chapter 1
CHAPTER 1 (Isabela’s POV)
I still remember the night Nathan took me on our first date.
The restaurant was small, almost hidden between two bigger buildings in New York. It smelled like garlic, butter, and freshly baked bread. The kind of place people only found if they were shown or if they were looking for something quiet. I remember thinking it felt safe. Warm. Honest.
That night, I had been nervous more nervous than I wanted to admit. My hands shook when I reached for my glass of water, and I worried I would say something wrong. Nathan noticed. He always notices things like that.
He smiled at me then, reached across the table, and said, “Relax, Isabela. I’m just happy you’re here.”
That was one year ago.
Now, one year later, we’re sitting in the same restaurant, at the same corner table. Everything looks the same the soft yellow lights, the framed photos on the walls, the low hum of conversation around us. But the feeling between us is different.
It’s deeper.
Settled.
Like something that has grown roots.
Nathan sits across from me, stirring his drink slowly. He does that when he’s thinking, when something is on his mind. He probably thinks I don’t notice, but I do. I notice everything about him. The way his dark hair falls slightly into his eyes. The way he presses his lips together when he’s deciding how to say something.
“You’re quiet,” I say gently. “Everything okay?”
He looks up, and when our eyes meet, he smiles. Not the smile he uses with strangers or colleagues. This one is soft. Private. Just for me.
“I was just thinking,” he says. “About how fast this year went.”
I smile. “Fast in a good way or a scary way?”
He chuckles softly. “Both. But mostly good.”
I relax back into my chair. “Good. I was starting to think you were about to tell me something serious.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What if I am?”
My heart jumps, even though I tell myself not to overthink it. We’ve been together a year. A solid, comfortable year. No drama. No games. Just real life. Still, his tone makes my stomach flutter.
I laugh lightly. “Then say it.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone. He taps the screen once, then turns it toward me.
Two airline tickets.
I stare at the screen, confused. “What’s this?”
“Plane tickets,” he says.
“I can see that,” I reply slowly. “Where are we going?”
“Singapore.”
The word hangs between us.
“Singapore?” I repeat.
“Yes,” he says, sitting a little straighter. “My childhood friend Maxwell is getting married. It’s a big wedding. Big family event. I want you to come with me.”
My mind starts racing before my mouth can catch up.
Singapore.
Asia.
Meeting his people.
Nathan has never talked much about his family. When I ask, he answers lightly, vaguely, or changes the subject altogether. I never pushed. I didn’t want to seem nosy or demanding. He lives simply here no flashy cars, no designer clothes, no signs of anything excessive. I assumed his family was… normal. Whatever that means.
“That’s far,” I say honestly.
“I know,” he says quickly. “But it matters to me.”
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. His touch is warm, steady. His thumb moves slowly over my knuckles, calming me without trying.
“I want my family to meet you,” he adds.
My chest tightens.
“Your family?” I repeat.
“Yes.”
I searched his face. “You don’t talk about them much.”
He pauses. Just a second. But I notice.
“They’re… traditional,” he says carefully. “And very protective.”
“Protective of you?” I ask.
He smiles slightly. “Of the family.”
I nod, even though I don’t fully understand. “When is the wedding?”
“In a few weeks. I want us to go together since it's a free period for you from work.
I know you have a lot to do this period that you are free but I would love you to come with me, please.
Don't worry, I will make sure the trip is stressfree and you are comfortable.
There’s something gentle about the way he says it. Like he’s trying to ease me into something without overwhelming me.
I look at the tickets again.
“Okay,” I say.
He blinks. “Okay?”
“Yes,” I say more firmly. “I’ll go.”
Relief spreads across his face so clearly that it makes me smile.
Later that night, as we walk through the cool New York streets, his hand slips into mine like it belongs there. The city lights reflect in his eyes, making him look almost unreal.
“You won’t regret it,” he says quietly.
“I hope not,” I reply, meaning more than just the trip.
When I get home, I lie awake, staring at the ceiling.
I don’t feel afraid of Nathan.
I trust him.
What scares me is everything I don’t know.
His family.
His past.
The world he hasn’t shown me yet.
I tell myself it’s just a trip.
Just a wedding.
Just a visit.
But deep down, something tells me this is the beginning of something much bigger.
