The willow leaves swayed gently above them as the world fell away. It was just the two of them now—two hearts, two breaths, one long night.
Mary rested her head lightly on Isabelle's shoulder, the weight of expectations momentarily quieted.
"I can't believe I'm marrying Thomas," she muttered.
Isabelle gave a mock gasp. "Oh, don't say his name. You'll ruin the night."
Mary laughed softly. "Do you know what he spoke about last time we were alone?"
"Tell me," Isabelle said, grinning.
"He spent ten minutes explaining why his horses are fed better oats than anyone else's in the county."
Isabelle burst into laughter. "Of course he did! He strikes me as the type who talks more to mirrors than people."
Mary smirked. "And then he complimented my hands. Said they were... 'efficient.' Efficient!"
Isabelle wiped a tear of laughter. "God help us all."
They both giggled for a moment, their laughter curling up toward the stars. The world felt lighter, even if just for that breath in time.
But the moment sobered as Mary went quiet.
She turned slightly, watching Isabelle in the moonlight. "Do you really like singing in those clubs?"
Isabelle blinked, surprised by the question. "I love singing. Always have."
"But… not there, right?" Mary hesitated. "Not in those clubs where men stare like they own you. Not when they're thinking… things."
Isabelle gave a small, sad smile. "It's how I survive, Mary. Those men pay for drinks and rooms and smoke-filled nights, and sometimes, if I sing long enough, they forget I'm a person."
Mary's eyes dropped. "I hate that."
Isabelle gently touched Mary's hand. "It's not forever. It never was."
A pause.
"I'm leaving for London," she said softly.
Mary looked up sharply. "What?"
"Tomorrow night."
"Why?"
Isabelle exhaled slowly, as if letting go of something that had been sitting on her chest. "Because I've stayed long enough to remind myself of you… and now I don't know how to stay without losing pieces of myself all over again."
Mary felt her chest tighten. "So this is… the last time?"
"I didn't say that," Isabelle replied gently. "But it's the last time like this."
They sat in silence for a long moment. The willow swayed above them like a slow lullaby.
"Do you hate me?" Mary whispered. "For not choosing you?"
"No," Isabelle said, without hesitation. "Because you came tonight. And because a part of you already did."
Mary leaned in again, her forehead gently touching Isabelle's.
They didn't kiss. They didn't cry.
They just sat there, two souls brushing against something impossible.
A final inhale of a world that might have been.