The night had grown quiet by the time Isabella left the barracks.
Her apartment was only a short walk away—small, tidy, earned through years of discipline and restraint. She dropped her bag on the chair, kicked off her shoes, and stood still in the dim light.
Xavier's voice echoed in her head.
I love you.
She pressed a hand to her chest and breathed slowly until the ache settled into something manageable.
Then she turned back out.
Family came first.
---
The hotel was modest but warm, lights glowing softly behind the curtains. Isabella knocked gently, already smiling.
Lucia opened the door.
One look at her daughter and she froze.
Isabella barely had time to speak before her mother reached up and cupped her face.
"Who is he?" Lucia asked softly.
Isabella blinked. "Mama?"
Lucia smiled—not teasing, not accusing. Knowing.
"Your eyes," she said. "They look the way they used to."
Isabella's throat tightened. "It's not—"
Lucia shook her head gently. "You don't have to explain. A mother knows."
She pulled Isabella into a hug, warm and grounding. "I saw the way you came in from dinner. Like someone had knocked on a door you thought was sealed forever."
Isabella exhaled against her shoulder. "I didn't open it."
Lucia stroked her hair. "Yet."
---
Marcello sat at the small table, polishing his glasses.
He looked up.
And frowned.
"Something happened," he said.
Isabella smiled weakly. "Is it that obvious?"
"To your mother, always," he said. Then his voice softened. "To me… it's the way you're standing. Like you're bracing for joy."
She laughed quietly, tears threatening. "I didn't know that was a posture."
Marcello stood and placed a steady hand on her shoulder. "You've carried us for so long. It's strange to see someone else try to carry you."
She shook her head. "I didn't let him."
Marcello nodded, understanding more than she expected. "Good. Love that rushes in when wounds are fresh can drown instead of heal."
Lucia smiled at him. "But love that waits—"
"—can build," Marcello finished.
Isabella looked between them, heart full and aching all at once.
Andrea emerged from the bedroom then, half-asleep. "Why are you all whispering like it's a conspiracy?"
Lucia laughed. "Go back to sleep."
Andrea squinted at Isabella. "You okay?"
She nodded. "I am."
He studied her a second longer, then smiled. "Good."
---
Later, in her apartment, Isabella lay on her bed staring at the ceiling.
Her parents had seen it.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
But something returning.
She didn't text Xavier.
She didn't need to.
Some truths didn't require immediate answers.
Outside, the city hummed softly.
Inside, Isabella let herself rest—knowing that love had found her again…
And this time, she would meet it on her own terms.