The rest of the morning stretched into a long, slow exhale. I finished my walk with Ivy and Captain, the sun now high enough to warm my shoulders, but the cool dread in my stomach remained. Back home, Dad was on the couch reading a newspaper. He glanced up, his kind eyes taking in my distracted air.
"Everything alright, Izzy?" he asked, a knowing, gentle note in his voice. He'd seen me through enough minor cataclysms over the years to recognize the particular storm clouds gathering behind my eyes.
"Yeah, Dad," I said, too quickly. "Just… thinking." I managed a weak smile that felt more like a grimace and quickly herded the dogs toward their water bowls, the clatter of ceramic providing a welcome distraction. Telling Dad would be another hurdle, a different kind of conversation altogether. But one step at a time. Adrien first. Always Adrien first.
