Beyond His Silence

chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 (Isabela’s POV)

My mother is sitting on the edge of my bed, holding up a dress like she’s judging it in court.

She lifts it higher, turns it slightly, then shakes her head.

“No,” she says firmly. “This one won’t do.”

I groan and fall back against my pillows. “Mom, it’s just a dinner. In New York.”

She doesn’t even look at me. She keeps inspecting the dress, as if it personally offended her.

“It’s not just dinner,” she says calmly. “You’re meeting your boyfriend’s family.”

That sentence alone makes my stomach tighten.

I and nathan will be leaving in two day. My suitcase is wide open on the floor, clothes spilling out like they escaped on their own. Dresses hang off the chair, shoes are scattered, and my room looks like a small fashion store exploded.

I sit up and grab a simple blue dress from the bed. “Okay. What about this one?”

She finally looks at me, eyes narrowing slightly as she studies it.

“Hm.” She tilts her head. “Pretty. But too casual.”

I let out a short laugh. “You’re acting like I’m meeting royalty.”

She shrugs, completely unbothered. “You never know.”

I roll my eyes but sit beside her anyway, smoothing the wrinkles on the bedspread. For a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence stretches, comfortable but heavy.

“Nathan doesn’t talk much about his family,” I say quietly.

Her hands pause mid-fold.

“That can mean many things,” she replies carefully.

I turn to her. “Like what?”

She sets the dress down and thinks for a moment. “Maybe they are poor.”

I blink, surprised. “Poor?”

She nods gently. “Yes. Some men don’t like to talk about it. Especially good African boys. They carry responsibility early. They work hard, send money home, take care of siblings, parents, cousins… everyone.”

The image settles slowly in my chest.

“He does help people,” I admit. “He’s generous. Sometimes I notice he sends money without talking about it.”

She smiles knowingly. “Then you see.”

I lower my gaze, thinking about Nathan how he never complains, never boasts, never explains himself. How he lives simply, comfortably, but never excessively.

“He always changes the subject when I ask,” I say softly.

“Because pride is complicated,” she replies. “Some men feel shame where there shouldn’t be any.”

I sigh. “I don’t care if they’re poor.”

She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “I know you don’t.”

She stands and walks toward the chair, picking up another dress. This one is different. Soft. Elegant. Not flashy, not dull. It looks like confidence without trying.

She holds it up. “Wear this.”

I reach out, touching the fabric between my fingers. “You really think so?”

“Yes,” she says without hesitation. “It’s respectful. It gives a good first impression. It says you are serious, but still yourself.”

I swallow. “What if they don’t like me?”

She turns to me fully now. “Isabela, listen to me.”

I meet her eyes.

“You are smart. You are kind. You are disciplined. You worked hard to become a professional nurse. You carry yourself with dignity. Any family should be proud to meet you.”

My chest tightens, and I quickly look away.

“I’m proud of you,” she adds softly.

“Thanks, Mom,” I whisper.

She kisses my forehead, the way she did when I was younger, when the world felt simpler.

“Go to Asia,” she says. “Enjoy it. Even if nothing else comes from it, it is an adventure. You’ve always wanted to see that part of the world.”

I nod slowly. “I guess I have.”

“Don’t go there afraid,” she continues. “Go there as yourself. That is enough.”

Later that night, after she leaves my room, I sit on the floor beside my suitcase. I fold the cream-colored dress carefully, smoothing it before placing it on top of everything else.

I stare at it for a long moment.

Nathan’s face comes to mind his gentle smile, the way he avoids certain conversations, the warmth in his eyes when he looks at me.

Maybe he’s just protecting something, I think. Or protecting me.

I zip the suitcase shut and lie back on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

New York feels familiar. Safe.

Asia feels unknown.

And somewhere between those two places, my life is quietly shifting.

I close my eyes, hoping that wherever Nathan is taking me… I’ll be enough when I get there.