Freya's POV
It was after nine when Luna Victoria finally waved a hand, signaling it was time for everyone to retire upstairs.
I guided Isabella to her bathroom for her evening routine, my movements mechanical as I helped her bathe and blow-dried her hair afterward. The soft hum of the dryer filled the silence between us—silence that had become increasingly common.
As I ran the brush through her damp locks, I caught Isabella watching me through the mirror, her expression thoughtful, almost concerned.
"What is it?" I asked, our eyes meeting in the reflection.
She quickly shook her head. "Nothing."
Perhaps I was imagining things, or maybe she simply noticed my recent quietness. There was a time when bath time meant stories and chatter about her day, questions about mine. W
