Isabela finally had the break she desperately needed. After the adrenaline of the fashion show, the sudden quiet of the penthouse felt almost unnatural. The stillness pressed against her like a heavy blanket , no ringing phones, no fittings, no one calling her name.
By midmorning, she was restless. She paced the living room, coffee in hand, complaining softly about how silence could feel louder than noise.
Ethan, half, hidden behind a newspaper, watched her with a faint smile.
"You look ready to redesign the entire city just to keep busy," he said, amusement warming his tone.
She dropped onto the couch beside him. "Don't tempt me. I actually sketched a furniture layout for the living room just to pass time."
He laughed , a sound she didn't hear often enough. "I think you've earned a change of scenery."
By afternoon, he'd arranged one.
Within hours, they were on a short flight to Whistler, British Columbia , a retreat wrapped in mountain air and pine, scented calm. The resort was a masterpiece of wood and stone, surrounded by peaks so tall they seemed to touch the clouds.
When they checked in, Ethan requested adjacent rooms. It was a quiet acknowledgment of boundaries neither wanted to test, but both felt.
Isabela didn't mind. She needed the space to breathe, to simply be again.
The First Morning
By sunrise, she was already exploring the charming village , tiny cafés with steaming mugs in hand, painted cups, boutiques filled with art and knit scarves, laughter spilling from ski shops.
She treated herself to a full Canadian breakfast: pancakes stacked high, scrambled eggs, and a mug of coffee strong enough to wake her soul. Afterward, she slipped into the heated outdoor pool, the steam rising against the cool air, her body finally relaxing after weeks of tension.
When she returned to her room, she felt lighter, like the world had hit "reset."
She showered, dressed in floral shorts and a white tank top, packed sunscreen, and made her way to Ethan's room.
She knocked lightly , once, then twice , before trying the handle. The door opened.
Ethan stood by the window, phone pressed to his ear. His tone was low but sharp, threaded with an authority she rarely heard outside of boardrooms.
"No, that's not what we agreed on," he said, pacing. "If it leaks, everything changes , keep it contained, do you understand?"
The words froze her mid step.
He noticed her before she could retreat. "I'll call you back," he said into the phone, hanging up quickly. Then, with a smooth shift, his entire posture softened.
"Ready for our escape?" he asked, setting the phone aside with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Isabela studied him, curious. "I am. Did you eat?"
"Just coffee and a sandwich," he said, grabbing his jacket. "We'll fuel up as we go. No work talk, no stress , today's about getting lost."
She smiled, choosing not to ask what that phone call was about. Not yet.
A Day Without Deadlines
They started in the heart of the village, wandering from one cozy café to the next, sampling pastries and local drinks. Isabela tried maple lattes for the first time and declared them too sweet; Ethan teased her and ordered another just to prove her wrong.
They explored artisan shops, tucked away bookstores, and street stalls filled with jewelry carved from stone. Every so often, Ethan would pause to take a photo , not of the scenery, but of her when she wasn't looking.
By late afternoon, they had left the crowds behind, following a winding trail into quieter woods where sunlight filtered through tall trees like liquid gold.
The silence between them was easy this time. No weight, no need to fill it.
For the first time in weeks, they talked about ordinary things , childhood memories, travel dreams, and their favorite meals. Ethan's laughter came easier, his usual reserve replaced by something open, almost tender.
As the day ended, they stopped by a lookout point where the whole valley unfolded below them, the mountains glowing pink in the setting sun.
"Beautiful," Isabela whispered.
Ethan looked at her. "Yes," he said quietly , but he wasn't looking at the view.
The Second Day
The next morning, they traded sandals for sneakers.
Ethan had planned a light mountain biking session on the lower trails. It started as a leisurely ride but soon turned into a challenge , Isabela determined to keep up, Ethan trying not to show off. They both ended up laughing breathlessly at the end of the path, covered in dust but exhilarated.
"Admit it," she said, wiping her brow. "You slowed down for me."
"Never," he said, grinning. "You nearly ran me off the trail twice."
They cooled off with a walk through the forest, the air crisp and clean. Birds darted between branches, and the rhythm of their steps fell into sync.
At a small clearing, a car passed on the nearby road. Isabela's eyes followed it, thoughtful.
"I really need to learn to drive properly," she said. "I can manage short distances, but I want to really drive. Confidently."
Ethan's expression softened. "Consider it handled. Tomorrow, I'll rent a car. We'll find some quiet roads, and I'll teach you."
She smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. "You'd do that?"
"For you? Yes."
Evening Reflections
They spent the rest of the day wandering through Whistler Village's shopping mall, picking out souvenirs and laughing at overpriced winter gear. A small art gallery near the exit caught Isabela's eye , paintings of mountains and skies, all painted in deep, emotional strokes.
She lingered in front of one piece , a woman standing at the edge of a forest, half in shadow, half in light. The title read Becoming.
Ethan stood beside her. "Reminds me of you," he said softly.
"How?"
"You're still stepping out of the shadows," he said. "But you already shine."
The words caught her off guard, and she looked away quickly. "You're getting poetic, Lawson."
He smiled. "Must be the altitude."
As evening settled, Ethan surprised her again , two tickets to a small theatre show at 10 PM. "It's supposed to be good," he said. "Something different."
She agreed instantly. After weeks of pressure, a night out felt like freedom.
Back in her room, Isabela stood before the mirror, curling her hair loosely and slipping into a simple black dress. She hadn't dressed up for fun in months. As she applied lipstick, she caught her reflection and smiled at the woman staring back , relaxed, confident, alive.
Maybe this trip wasn't just a break. Maybe it was the beginning of something she hadn't dared to imagine.
Across the hall, Ethan fastened his cufflinks, his thoughts briefly drifting to that morning's call , and the traitor.
He looked at his reflection, the faint lines around his eyes deeper than usual.
Not now, he told himself. Not tonight.
He left the room with one thought in his mind: whatever storm waited beyond these mountains, he'd keep it from touching her.