2025-07-13 17:43:56
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339. Back Home
The wheels touched down on the tarmac with a soft jolt, and Isadora let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. The familiar scent of America wafted into the plane cabin the moment the doors opened —less of a smell and more of a feeling, really. Of home.She looked over at Brandt, who grinned at her with his usual calmness. His hand found hers easily, fingers curling around her own, now adorned with a delicate diamond ring. Her stomach fluttered —not from nerves this time, but from the little life she carried within her. Still so small. Still so quiet. But so real.Van and Ivy were waiting at the airport, standing just outside the arrival gate, bundled in winter coats and practically bouncing on their feet. When Ivy spotted them, she squealed and ran toward Isadora with open arms.“Oh my God, you’re glowing!” Ivy gushed, hugging her tight.Van gave Brandt a one armed hug and clapped him on the back, then pulled Isadora into his arms too. “We missed you two,” he said warmly
338. The Proposal
The snow crunched beneath their boots as they walked back to their apartment, the world muffled and white. The pregnancy news lingered between them like a glowing ember, warming the cold air. Isadora clutched Brandt’s arm, still silent, still processing.Three months.She hadn’t planned for this. Not now. Not ever, really.And yet— somehow, it didn’t feel like a mistake. If felt like something she had been waiting for. When they reached the apartment, Brandt held the door open for her like he always did, and she stepped into the warmth of their shared space. He helped her out of her coat, careful and gentle, like she might break. She laughed softly.“Don’t start treating me like I’m made of glass,” she warned playfully.He grinned. “You’re not made of glass. You’re steel wrapped in silk. But you’re carrying our future now. Forgive me for being a little extra.”They moved to the kitchen. Isadora leaned against the counter while Brandt made her tea —he knew the one she liked when she w
337. The Greatest Surprise
It was late afternoon in Havana, and the warm golden light filtered lazily through the balcony curtains of their rented seaside apartment.They had spent two months in the hotel and the couple decided it was high time to get their own space, since it was obvious that they had no intention of leaving Cuba anytime soon. Isadora sat barefoot on the cool tiles, her sketchbook open on her lap. The faint scent of mangoes from the market still lingered in the air. She was sketching Brandt as he read on the couch, one leg stretched out, the other tucked under him in that relaxed, boyish way of his.She didn’t realize she’d been staring at him so long until he looked up.“What’s that look for?” he asked, voice light, though his eyes were curious.Isadora hesitated, then closed her book slowly. “You look like someone I might never have met if life had gone the way I planned.”He smiled. “Do you regret that?”“No,” she said, quietly. “Not anymore.”They talked for a while— about her past, about
336. Love
The morning was already golden when Brandt returned to the room, sandals dusty, cheeks flushed from walking too quickly.“Don’t change,” he said, grinning.Isadora raised an eyebrow, still in her robe. “You say that like I planned to wear a ballgown to breakfast.”“Not breakfast,” he said. “Adventure.”“Adventure?”He nodded and held up two paper tickets. “Boat ride. Private one. Picnic basket included. We leave in forty five minutes.”Isadora tilted her head, amused. “You planned something without asking me?”He smiled sheepishly. “You always plan the beautiful things. I wanted to try.”Her eyes softened. “You’ve got forty five minutes to pack sunscreen, bug spray, and something that doesn’t smell like that street taco you insisted on trying last night.”“No promises.”★★★The boat wasn’t fancy. A little wooden vessel with chipped blue paint, an old motor, and a sail that flapped lazily in the breeze. But it was charming — and quiet. The captain was an older man named Tomás, who bare
335. A Letter To Me
It was still dark outside when Isadora slipped out of bed.Brandt slept deeply, his arm curled beneath the pillow, face half hidden by the sheet. She stood quietly beside him for a moment, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, the calm that always seemed to settle over him when he dreamed.She’d had no such luck with sleep.The past few days had stirred something in her. Not restlessness, exactly — but an ache. A quiet knocking from the inside out, asking her to look back before she moved forward.So she pulled on a robe, padded barefoot to the desk near the window, and sat down with a blank page.Not her sketchpad.Just a piece of paper and a pen.And then she began to write.Dear Van,No — that’s not quite right. This letter isn’t for you. Not really. Not anymore.But I’m going to let myself pretend for a moment that it is.There was a time when I thought the world ended with your silence. When I believed the only way to survive was to carry myself like a fortress. Strong. I
334. What Comes Next?
It started with a question.Not a loud one. Not even a confrontational one.Just a simple, offhand question that slipped out of Brandt’s mouth as they returned from the artist’s market late one afternoon.“Do you think we’ll go back soon?”Isadora was unlocking the hotel door, the sun casting a golden streak across her shoulder. She paused, key in hand.“Back where?”“Home,” he said, shrugging. “Or… wherever we’re supposed to go next.”The word supposed settled oddly in the space between them.She said nothing as she pushed the door open.Inside, the room smelled faintly of her lavender oil and saltwater. The same as always. But suddenly, it didn’t feel like sanctuary.It felt like a question mark.Brandt noticed the shift, even before she turned away from him to drop her bag on the table.“You okay?”“Fine.”That word. The eternal red flag.He stepped closer. “I didn’t mean it like that.”“Like what?”“Like we have to go back. I was just… thinking out loud. Wondering.”Isadora turned
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