ADRIAN
La Sirena Blu hummed with noise and movement, but all I saw was Isabella’s face as she stepped out of the hallway. Her pulse fluttered at her throat, her eyes wide, her breath unsteady. Daniel had rattled her more than she wanted to admit.
I placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward our table. She leaned into the touch—barely, instinctively—but it was enough to steady her.
Then she froze.
I followed her gaze.
A middle‑aged couple stood beside our table, smiling warmly at her. Daniel’s parents. They didn’t know me. They didn’t know my family. They didn’t know anything except that their son had once brought Isabella home and spoken about her like she was his future.
And now they were looking at her like she still was.
“Isabella, dear!” Daniel’s mother called o
