2025-04-15 23:03:45
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346. Motherhood
The house was quiet in the early mornings.Isadora had never known this kind of stillness before —not the silence of loneliness, but the hush of something deeply content. The kind of quiet that came with purpose.Celeste stirred gently in her arms, rooting instinctively as Isadora adjusted her hold. The baby’s cheeks were still round with sleep, her tiny mouth puckered like a rosebud. She was only three weeks old, and already Isadora couldn’t remember what life had felt like before her.Motherhood came in strange waves. Some days it felt like flying. Others, like drowning.The nights were the hardest. The exhaustion carved deep, invisible valleys into her bones, and there were times— especially around 3 AM —when she cried quietly in the rocking chair, unsure whether it was joy or overwhelm or some in between space.Brandt, bless him, never made her feel alone in it. He took turns with the feedings, walked up and down the halls with a fussing Celeste, and stayed up late researching inf
345. Celeste
The snow in New York that year arrived early —soft, heavy flakes drifting past the windows like pieces of a forgotten dream. It had been two months since the wedding, and life had begun to stretch into something warm and quietly miraculous.Brandt and Isadora settled into one of Van and Ivy’s guest cottages, a spacious stone house tucked behind the main estate, its walls covered in ivy and the porch lined with winter lanterns. The inside was bright and homey, filled with soft throws, wooden floors, and a large hearth that crackled every evening.Brandt spent his days working remotely —his voice warm and steady in virtual meetings, his eyes always drifting to where Isadora sketched nearby. Her pregnancy had smoothed the edges of her usually sharp restlessness. She took long naps, read more, and spent mornings drawing the curves of her growing belly, learning its rhythm.Ivy visited often— usually with the twins in tow, their small feet thudding against the wooden floors and their arms
344. Second Wedding II
The days leading up to the wedding were a gentle storm of ribbons, laughter, and lists. Ivy had taken the helm, organizing everything from the florals to the food with her usual quiet precision. Isadora, though initially hesitant, eventually surrendered to the thrill of it all— testing cakes, sketching dress ideas in the early mornings, and letting herself lean into the joy of it.They’d decided on a small ceremony in a serene garden tucked just outside the city, where the maple leaves had begun their slow golden descent. It felt symbolic somehow— life cycling, seasons shifting, old fears falling away like crisp leaves.One morning, two days before the wedding, Ivy found Isadora in the sunroom, curled up with a cup of tea and a half filled sketchpad on her lap. The light caught the silver in her hair, and the softness in her expression. But her eyes weren’t quite settled.“You’re not drawing,” Ivy said gently as she approached, cradling her own mug of coffee. “That’s unlike you.”Isa
343. Second Wedding
The cab ride from the airport was long, winding through familiar streets that looked both unchanged and completely different in the warm wash of summer light. Isadora rested her hand over her belly, her fingers tapping absently against the soft fabric of her dress. Three months pregnant. It still didn’t feel real— except for the fatigue, the sudden aversions to certain foods, and the quiet hum of joy she couldn’t shake.Brandt sat beside her, unusually quiet, one hand resting gently on her knee. Every now and then, he’d glance at her like he still couldn’t believe she was real. His wife. His future.The taxi slowed at the front gate of Van and Ivy’s estate, and the guard gave them a warm nod of recognition before letting them through. Isadora felt her heart skip as the mansion came into view —home, in a way that felt deeper now. A place not just of comfort, but of family.As they stepped out, the front door swung open.“Isadora!” Ivy called, barefoot on the porch, her hair swept into
342. Married
The sun filtered softly through gauzy curtains, casting golden streaks across the sheets where Isadora lay, one arm draped over Brandt’s chest. The quiet hum of the ceiling fan and the gentle crash of ocean waves outside their beachfront villa in Tulum, Mexico, created a calm rhythm —like the world itself had stilled in honor of them.She stirred first, her hand brushing against his. Her wedding ring glinted faintly in the light, a simple yet elegant gold band that felt both foreign and deeply right. She couldn’t stop staring at it.Brandt was still asleep beside her, his breathing steady, his lips parted just slightly. Isadora studied him for a long moment. He looked so peaceful, so unguarded— like the boyish charm he carried had fully bloomed into the man who’d just become her husband. Her husband.She let out a quiet laugh at the thought, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. “We really did it,” she whispered, more to herself than him.Brandt blinked open an eye as he stretch
341. A Winter Wedding
The snow had begun to fall gently by dawn.Outside the chapel, the world was hushed under a fresh blanket of white. Icicles caught the soft morning light like crystals, and the evergreens around the property were dusted with frost. Inside, warmth radiated from the golden chandeliers and the rows of flickering candles that lined the aisle.Isadora stood before a tall mirror in one of the side rooms, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted the sleeves of her ivory lace gown. It was simple, elegant —fitted at the waist and flowing gently over her small baby bump. Her hair was swept up, a few soft strands framing her face, and a pale gold pin— the only thing she had to remember her mother— held the veil in place.Ivy stepped into the room quietly, holding a small bouquet of white peonies and eucalyptus. She took one look at her and stopped. “You’re… breathtaking.”Isadora turned to her slowly, her eyes misty. “Is this really happening?”“It is,” Ivy said gently, stepping forward. “It
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