The moment Darien's footsteps faded down the hall, Daphne let out the slow, shaky exhale of someone who'd been bracing her ribs with pure attitude alone. She wiped her cheeks with the heel of her palm, sniffled once, and then turned to Isolde with a suddenly determined expression that made Isolde's stomach drop.
"Oh no," she whispered. "That face. That's the face you make when you're about to ruin someone's life."
Daphne crossed her arms. "Good. Because Nash is on the agenda for tomorrow."
Isolde's heart thudded. "Daph…"
"No, listen." Daphne sat up straighter on the bed, composure returning in uneven waves. "Tomorrow we're talking to him. And he gets to decide what he wants. You deserve clarity. And honestly? He deserves to stop being a confused goldfish."
Isolde blinked. "A… goldfish?"
"Yes. Because his memory is terrible, he keeps swimming in emotional circles, and he needs guidance." Daphne huffed. "But whatever he chooses, I'm standing by you."
