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79: madness

A few months ago.

Snow fell slowly, like ice flakes crumbling from the gray sky, decorating the yard of her grandfather's house. The cold creeps in, freezing, but it's nothing compared to what I feel inside.

Isabella stood in the doorway, her stomach distended, her eyes looking at me with disappointment. At first glance, she looked strong, but behind her hard gaze, there was something fragile. Something that was breaking because of me.

I stood still, suffocated by the weight of the feelings I had harbored for too long. Her image during this time never left my mind. Her trembling lips and her pale cheeks made my heart squeeze. I knew I had hurt her more than words could fix.

"You flew from Madrid to Milan just to stay silent?" Her voice came out sharp yet shaky, like a wall beginning to crack but still holding. There was anger tucked away, and underneath, a sadness I'd made too deep. I could hear her unspoken cries, crackling between each word.

I sighed softly, the snow in my hair star
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