ISABELLA'S POV
The sound of our front door unlocking at exactly 9:04 a.m. could only mean one thing: chaos was here.
Sure enough, Aria breezed in a second later like she owned the place, arms full of iced coffee and judgment.
I was curled up on the couch in an old T-shirt and sweatpants that had officially graduated from 'lounge' to 'pajama' status, a blanket draped over me like armor against the outside world. Laptop open but I was mostly scrolling through my phone with the enthusiasm of a cat sunbathing—utterly content and completely useless.
The house was quiet—Dad had left early for the clinic, and Leo was off somewhere, probably buried in lectures—or skipping them entirely. Either way, he wasn't here to witness the chaos that just walked in.
"You look comfortable," Aria said flatly, setting one of the coffees on the table in front of me like a bribe.
