Isabella was still feeling like she had been hit by three boulders, shaken around by a tornado, kissed by sadness, and then tucked into bed by regret.
Her dream still lingered faintly. The crying babies. Cyrus. The ache in her chest. She tried brushing it off, but the feeling clung to her skin like morning dew.
She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes while Glimora ran in tiny circles, proudly tossing a pebble into the air like she was showing off Olympic skills.
Isabella didn't even have the strength to scold her.
Before she had time to emotionally prepare herself for life, the tent flap opened.
Osiris walked in.
The giant idiot filled the entrance like he owned the place, holding a basket of colorful fruit in both hands. He looked weirdly domestic. Too domestic. Isabella hated that. It confused her.
Usually, the sight of him disgusted her slightly. Or irritated her heavily. Or made her wonder if she should shove him into a river.
But today…
She took a breath.
Smiled.
