Page 46 of Beneath the Surface

As he spoke, he held her tighter, letting her feel the steady beat of his heart, grounding her in the moment. He could feel she was trying to stay strong. To soothe her, Brad grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV, scrolling through the channels until he found a nature documentary, the sounds of birds and wind filling the room.

They sat like that for a while. As the evening settled in, they moved to the kitchen, working together in silence to prepare dinner. It was a simple but comforting meal—cooking side by side, exchanging small smiles and glances as they chopped vegetables and stirred pans.

Dinner was quiet, filled with unspoken concerns, but there were also fleeting moments of normalcy—brief smiles, the warmth of connection in their shared silence.

The remnants of their dessert sat on the coffee table—plates pushed aside, glasses half-full with wine, the warm scent of the meal still lingering in the air. Brad leaned back on the couch, his arm stretched along the top of the cushion, a relaxed smile tugging at his lips. Isobel sat cross-legged, her eyes bright and alive in a way he hadn’t seen in weeks, a playful grin lighting up her face as she recounted one of her old college stories.

“And then,” she said, laughing, “the professor walked in, saw the entire whiteboard covered in, I don’t know, Shakespearean insults, and just shook his head. He didn’t even say a word, just turned around and left. I’ve never seen a room of students sober up so fast.”

Brad chuckled, shaking his head. “You? Writing Shakespearean insults? Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“Oh, come on,” she shot back, her tone mock-defensive. “It was creative! And, technically, educational.”

“Technically,” he said, teasing. “Though I’m pretty sure the Bard didn’t intend for his work to be used as… what was it again? ‘Thou rank onion-eyed miscreant’?”

She dissolved into laughter, her hand lightly slapping his knee as she shook her head. “No, no—it was ‘thou gleeking, boil-brained canker-blossom.’ Much more poetic.”

Brad couldn’t help but laugh with her, the sound filling the room and softening the edges of the night. It felt easy, this moment between them. Natural. As though they had slipped into an unspoken rhythm, their laughter and words creating a melody that erased the tension of the past few weeks.

When the laughter finally subsided, Isobel leaned back against the arm of the couch, tucking a strand of hair behind herear. “I’ve missed this,” she said softly, her smile lingering but gentler now. “Just… feeling normal. For a little while.”

Brad looked at her, his amusement fading into something warmer, deeper. “Me too,” he admitted. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a night like this. Actually, during our Chinese meal.”

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, the room seemed to shrink around them, the world outside fading into irrelevance. The warmth between them was palpable, a steady hum that neither could ignore. Isobel’s gaze flickered to his hand still resting on the cushion beside her, and she hesitated before speaking again.

“Do you ever think things… will be normal again?” she asked quietly.

Brad’s expression softened, his smile tinged with nostalgia. “Yeah, I do.”

Her lips curved slightly, but there was a trace of sadness in her eyes. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“We will figure things out. And you need to give yourself time to heal. But it will get better.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “You think so?”

Brad leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “I do. You’re still you, Belle. Still brilliant, still passionate, still…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Still the person who makes everyone around her better.”

A soft laugh escaped her, and she looked down, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “You’re too good at this, you know? Saying the right thing.”

“I’m just being honest,” he said simply.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—it was charged, filled with the unspoken things neither of them was ready to say aloud. Brad glanced at her again, his expression turning serious.

“I’m glad you agreed to come home with me,” he said after a moment.

Her gaze lifted to his, and her smile returned, warmer now, tinged with something she couldn’t quite name. “Me too.”

Neither of them moved, the space between them seeming to shrink without either of them noticing.

Then Isobel exhaled softly, breaking the spell. “It’s getting late,” she murmured, though there was no urgency in her tone.

Brad nodded, standing slowly and offering a hand to help her up. Her fingers lingered against his as she rose to her feet. As he walked her to her room, their easy banter resumed, the heaviness of the moment giving way to something lighter.

Isobel smiled. “I feel safe here. And I really appreciate you going out of your way to make me comfortable.”

"Good night, Belle. Sleep well."

“Good night, Brad. Thank you again.”

---