ISABELLA
Adrian called again.
The screen lit up with his name, vibrating against the tablecloth like a warning.
I canceled it.
Daniel pretended not to notice, though the muscle in his jaw tightened for a fraction of a second. He sat there, composed, polite, heartbreak tucked neatly behind his eyes.
After a long, heavy silence, he cleared his throat and offered me a small, gentle smile.
“Why don’t we… finish dinner?” he said softly. “For old times’ sake. I don’t know if we’ll ever share a meal again.”
The words hit me like a bruise.
I nodded. “Okay.”
We ate.
Quietly.
Like two people trying not to disturb the ghost of what they used to be.
My phone buzzed again.
And again.
I lost count.
Each vibration felt like a pulse against my ribs, a reminder of the storm waiting outside
