ISABELLA — THE QUIET BEFORE THE ECHO
The waves rolled gently against the shore, sunlight glimmering over the horizon like melted gold. Isabella stood barefoot in the sand, the morning breeze tugging softly at her hair. A faint giggle came from behind her light, melodic, pure.
Ava.
Her daughter toddled toward the water's edge, chubby hands reaching for seashells, curls glinting in the sun. Isabella smiled, setting down the basket she carried and rushing over before the tide could sweep too close.
"Careful, little light," she murmured, scooping her up. "The sea takes as easily as it gives."
Ava squealed with laughter, clutching a tiny shell in her fist. Isabella kissed her cheek and turned back toward the small cottage that perched on the hill pale blue walls, ivy climbing the sides, flowers blooming at the windowsill.
Their home. Their safe place.
