The letter arrived on a quiet morning.
Lucia was the one who brought it in, wiping her hands on her apron as she squinted at the envelope.
"Isabella," she said slowly. "This one's for you."
Isabella took it absentmindedly.
Then she saw the seal.
The paper was thick. Official. Heavy with meaning.
Her fingers trembled as she read the first line.
We are pleased to inform you…
She sat down.
Hard.
Andrea rushed over. "What is it?"
She couldn't answer yet. Her eyes raced across the page, breath coming short.
Admission.
One of the best colleges.
Nursing program.
Tuition: Fully Covered.
Her vision blurred.
"No," she whispered. "This—this must be a mistake."
Lucia pressed a hand to her chest. "Isabella?"
Marcello stood slowly. "Read it out loud."
She did.
By the time she finished, Lucia was crying openly. Andrea was grinning like he'd just won a war. Marcello closed his eyes, relief written into every line of his face.
"Our girl," he murmured. "You made it."
But Isabella felt something else beneath the joy.
A quiet certainty.
---
Later that afternoon, when the excitement softened into disbelief, Andrea noticed the small box tucked beneath the letter.
"What's that?" he asked.
Isabella picked it up.
Wrapped neatly. No return address.
Just two words written carefully on the lid.
Happy Birthday.
Her heart skipped.
Slowly, she opened it.
Inside lay a smartphone—simple, elegant, untouched.
Beneath it, a folded piece of paper.
Her fingers hesitated before opening it.
Only three words were written there.
Call me.
And beneath—
A phone number.
Isabella stared at it for a long time.
Her chest tightened.
She knew.
She didn't need a name.
---
That night, long after the house had gone quiet, Isabella sat on the edge of her bed, phone in her hands.
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
Andrea's words echoed in her mind.
You don't need words to know.
She inhaled.
Exhaled.
And pressed call.
The line rang once.
Twice.
Then—
"Isabella?"
His voice.
Warm. Familiar. Steady.
Her breath caught.
"Yes," she whispered. "It's me."
On the other end of the line, Xavier closed his eyes.
"I was hoping you would call."
And just like that—
The distance that had haunted them for months finally cracked.
Not shattered.
Not yet.
But enough for light to slip through.