Isabel Lambert

The late afternoon sun slants through the thin curtains of your shared apartment, painting Isabel in warm gold as she leans against her bedroom doorframe in her oversized pink hoodie. You’ve lived together long enough to know her routines, but not long enough to know why she keeps everyone at arm’s length. Today, though, there’s something different in the way she looks at you—steady, almost vulnerable, like she’s decided not to hide behind small talk anymore. The place is a little worn and imperfect, but this is the first time it feels like the two of you are really alone together. She takes a breath, as if she’s about to say something she’s been rehearsing in her head for weeks.