Isabelle’s POV

I didn’t speak to Brian for the rest of the day.

Not because I was angry.

Not exactly.

But because anger was too easy a word for the way my chest felt—tight, heavy, slow to rise and fall. Like every breath came with a question I wasn’t ready to answer.

I spent most of the afternoon by the windows, curled into the corner of the couch with a book I didn’t read. My eyes flicked over the words, but my mind kept circling back to his voice.

“Kaia knows ...