ISABELLA — A QUIET THAT DOESN'T LAST
The forest had grown strangely quiet since that night.
No more searchlights.
No more soldiers.
No more screaming machines tearing through the dark.
Only wind through the trees and the soft hum of the river, carrying fragments of dawn.
Isabella sat by the window, rocking Ava gently. The baby slept soundly, her tiny hand curled around one of Isabella's fingers. Every rise and fall of her chest reminded Isabella that peace however fragile was real.
At least for now.
Sebastian was outside, chopping wood with mechanical precision. His movements were slow, deliberate. Every strike of the axe echoed against the trees like a heartbeat.
He'd barely spoken in days.
Liam came and went always scanning, always tracking signals, always worried. "They're quiet," he'd said that morning. "Too quiet. It means someone's watching."
But Isabella tried not to think about it.
For the first time in months, Ava was smiling in her sleep.
