She scheduled the moment.But love never followed instructions.
Isabella sat on the front steps, precisely where the lighting was best for golden-hour tones.
She'd calculated it earlier that week.A five-minute window where the sun would catch the edges of her hair without making her squint.
Romantic, but not dramatic.Intentional, but casual.
Checklist Item 2.1: Public Compliment (Spontaneous Delivery Preferred).
She glanced at the folded slip of paper in her lap.
On it: a single compliment she hadn't given yet.Not because it wasn't true, but because it felt too real to be part of a checklist.
You look better when you're not trying to impress anyone.
She'd never said it out loud.
Maybe she wouldn't need to.Maybe Ethan would show up and say something ridiculous that made her abandon the line entirely.
Except he didn't show up.
She checked her phone again.No reply. No explanation.
She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and allowed herself exactly three seconds to feel... anything.
Three.Two.One.
Then she straightened, tucked the paper away, and stood up.
Someone passed by on the sidewalk. She caught the words:
"...Ethan and Claire were heading out earlier..."
Not whispered. Not shouted. Just said. Like it meant nothing.
But it meant something to her.
She didn't glare. Didn't sigh.
Just opened her Notes app and added a line to a document not part of any strategy.
Unstructured Thought Log — Entry #14You can't outrun someone who never knew it was a race.
She paused.
Then added another line beneath it.
And maybe that's why I started running in the first place.
She closed the app.
And walked home.
Not defeated.Not angry.
Just thinking.
She had the outline.She just hadn't expected the page to turn without her.