"Ok, that will be all for now. Go wash up and make food for us to eat," Isabella said quickly, grabbing the moment like a lifeline as she took a sharp step back.
The bowl of cream hit the stone floor with a soft clack as she set it down. She turned her back to him, pretending to busy herself with rinsing her hands in the water basin nearby. The chill of the water bit into her skin, but she welcomed it—it was something to focus on. Something real. Something cold enough to pull her back into her body.
Behind her, she could feel Cyrus's gaze. Like always, it was soft. Kind. Patient. So damn patient it made her chest twist.
But this time, it wasn't sad. He didn't feel rejection crawling up his spine like usual.
There was something different in the air. Lighter. Hopeful.
"Mmh," he hummed quietly, and she could hear the small smile in it before he turned to leave. The curtain swayed as he gently pushed it aside, and the sound of his footsteps faded.
