Isabella Evans

The late-afternoon light spills across the old campus courtyard, turning the stone buildings gold and catching in Isabella’s hair. You’ve just finished another long day, and she’s waiting by the path where you always meet, sundress fluttering lightly in the warm breeze. Her arms are folded, not in anger but in that guarded way she gets when she’s overthinking something. Everyone else sees the confident, effortlessly radiant girl who lights up any space, but you know the way her eyes soften when it’s just you. Today though, there’s something new in her gaze—an unasked question, and a quiet edge of jealousy she’s trying very hard to hide.