The smell of coffee still filled the kitchen when I finished putting Giulia's lunchbox into her pink unicorn‑detailed backpack. Miguel had left earlier, mentioning an important meeting. I barely saw him — just heard the door close and his hurried steps down the hallway. Since the kiss... things had become a little different. A little quieter. A little more charged with thoughts neither of us could put into words.
But Giulia never changed. She was the thread of light through the tangle.
— Isa, can you do the princess braid today? — she asked, sitting on the stool at her bedroom vanity, brush already in hand.
I smiled, gently taking the comb.
— Of course I can. But you have to stay very still, princess.
She nodded with conviction, and while I began parting her golden hair, she stared at
