Isabella
The world outside was quiet. Too quiet.
The cabin stood deep in the northern mountains, hidden beneath the tall pines that swayed like silent sentinels. Morning light slipped through the frost-laced windows, painting pale streaks across the wooden floor.
Isabella stirred beneath the thick quilt, her body aching in that dull, constant way that reminded her she was still healing. The faint scent of cedar smoke and coffee lingered in the air, grounding her in the fragile peace they'd built in the last two weeks.
Her hand moved automatically to her belly rounder now, warm and alive. The baby kicked faintly, as if reminding her it was still there, still fighting, even after everything.
She smiled faintly. "Good morning, little fighter."
For a long moment, she stayed still, listening to the quiet crackle of the fire and the distant drip of melting snow. But beneath the peace, her mind churned restlessly.
