Isabella's POV.
I shut the door behind me and let the quiet surround me. With nothing else to do, for a while I just sat on the edge of the bed with my phone in my palm, no real intention of doing anything but scrolling, just letting the tiny screen pulse with other people's lives so mine didn't feel so loud and lonely at the same time.
Ian's name lit the top of my screen. A string of messages I hadn't opened yet. He has been checking in every day since the wedding blow-up, a hundred variations of Are you okay, Bella? and I'm sorry I did what I did and I miss you. I touched his name and the messages spilled out and I read them like they were a balm and like they were a burn.
God. Ian.
