She sat still for a moment—quiet, untouched bite on her tray, hands resting loosely on the table's edge.
The sound of laughter moved around her. Madeleine teasing Aaron about his cake hoarding. Chessa and Rin play-bickering over the sugar content in the drinks. Damien wiping frosting from his thumb like it was some kind of violation of his aesthetic principles.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't chaotic.
But it was warm.
And Isabelle felt… strange.
Not bad. Not uncomfortable. Just—
'...Refreshed?'
The word drifted in and settled oddly.
It didn't quite fit. Not the way she usually defined things. Refreshment came from efficiency. From order. From closing a tab in her schedule. A perfect mark. A flawless answer.
But this—
This was laughter she hadn't predicted.
Smiles she hadn't scheduled.
People drifting into her space—not with demands or obligations, but with good-natured presence. Chaos, yes, but tempered. Light. Natural.
And she hadn't been the one to organize it.
