Finally, Sunday evening arrived, and Isa was packing for her new place. Kelly and David were helping her move her belongings. Their car came to a halt in front of a sturdy stone-brick fence. They stepped out, unloaded Isa’s luggage from the trunk, and watched as the driver pulled away.
Kelly, dressed in a flowing white gown, still had her wide-brimmed church hat perched on her head, resembling something fit for a beach day. She let out a deep sigh, as if expelling the exhaustion from their long journey. Grabbing Isa’s largest suitcase, she turned to the stone fence, a slow smile spreading across her face.
“This place looks expensive,” she chuckled, then eagerly latched onto David’s hand. “We should go in.”
Isabella let out a small laugh as Kelly pulled David along, nearly dragging him inside the company staff housing.
When her mother had learned that only essential company staff were given apartments for convenience, she had wasted no time telling nearly all their neighbours about Isabella’s new job and how prestigious it was. She had even gleefully recounted how bitter their neighbours had looked upon hearing the news—relishing the envy she hoped to inspire once their fortunes began to change.
Isabella shook her head, tsking softly. She grabbed her leather suitcase, and followed her mother inside.
They stepped into Isabella’s apartment and moved down a narrow hallway leading to the living room.
Kelly’s mouth fell open as she took in the space.
The medium-sized room had polished wooden floors. Two plush wine-colored armchairs faced each other with a cozy sofa nestled between them, adorned with crisp white pillows. A few steps behind the sofa stood a sleek glass dining table surrounded by black chairs—a stark contrast to the cramped wooden table and chairs they had always squeezed into a corner near their tiny kitchen at home. An open doorway near the dining area led into a modern, compact kitchen.
Kelly set down the suitcase and wandered toward the dining space, her eyes gleaming. She stepped into the kitchen, trailing her fingers over the cool ceramic cabinets.
“Our kitchen is nothing compared to this,” she murmured, awe in her voice. Though not particularly large, the kitchen felt spacious and well-organized.
“Come check out my room,” Isabella called from the hallway, scooping David into her arms. “Come on, Dav.” She kissed his chubby cheek, and he nodded eagerly, his brown eyes sparkling.
Isabella led them down the hall facing the dining room and pushed open a door at the end.
“Wow!” David gasped, wriggling out of her arms. “I want to stay here!”
He darted toward the neatly made bed resting against the left wall and leaped onto it, bouncing with unrestrained glee. Laughter burst from his lips, echoing through the room, his brown eyes—so much like Isabella’s—alight with joy.
Isabella’s smile widened as she watched him, his laughter filling the room like sunlight spilling through a window. Seeing him so carefree, so full of joy, made her heart feel lighter, as if the weight of their past struggles had begun to lift.
She had wanted this—wanted to make her family happy. To give them a better life.
And this was only the beginning.
Kelly stepped into the room and gave Isa a playful nudge on the shoulder.
“See? You have your own apartment now.” She scanned the space, her lips curving with approval.
The room was modest yet comfortable. The single bed rested against the left wall. A wooden wardrobe was seamlessly built into the right wall, with a small dressing table beside it. On the opposite side of the bed, a work desk and chair were neatly arranged. Soft white curtains draped over the window, filtering in warm evening light.
“Look at all this space compared to your tiny, stuffy room back home,” Kelly remarked, strolling to the bed before flopping onto it with her arms outstretched. A grin spread across her face.
“It’s so soft,” she whispered, eyes drifting closed.
Isabella laughed, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She wanted to pull out her phone and capture this moment—the rare sight of her mother looking this content.
It had been so long since Kelly had truly smiled.
For years, exhaustion had etched itself into her features—creases lining her forehead, lips perpetually pressed into a tight frown, eyes dim with weariness. Her hands bore the scars of relentless hard work, her skin paled from fatigue. She had carried the weight of their struggles alone. Not any more.
I won’t let her do it all by herself. I’ll do my best, Isa thought, her gaze fixed on her mother’s relaxed form.
And I’ll keep making her proud.
She couldn’t bear the thought of Kelly slipping back into that distant, burdened state—not after even a glimpse of comfort.
Before Isabella could dwell on it any longer, Kelly sat up and reached for one of the suitcases. “We need to start unpacking your things, Isa.”
“I’ll help!” David chirped, hopping down from the bed.
“You’ll hurt yourself, Dav!” Kelly scolded.
David blinked, his excitement dimming as he lowered his head. Isabella chuckled and scooped him up again.
“Don’t mind Mum, Dav,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Let’s go get my other suitcase.”
David’s smile returned, and he nodded enthusiastically.
A Few Hours Later
Isabella’s desk was cluttered with her laptop, books, pens, sticky notes, and a small working clock. Her wardrobe overflowed with oversized tops, baggy jeans, office shirts, and a mix of gowns and skirts. The bed was neatly covered with her yellow bedsheet, its center adorned with sunflowers image. The warm colour brightened the room, blending with the soft scent of her perfume and Vaseline cream.
Placing her hands on her hips, Isabella scanned the room and nodded in satisfaction. She walked toward her leather suitcase, ready to zip it shut, when something caught her eye—a familiar black bag tucked inside. Her fingers brushed against its rough fabric, and a soft smile tugged at her lips.
Her guitar.
She pulled it out, her movements slow and deliberate, as if handling something sacred. Her headphones lay nestled beside it, forgotten until now. Without thinking, she set them on the desk and ran her fingers over the guitar case. Time had worn it down, its fabric thinning, shedding tiny woolen strands like an aging relic.
The guitar was more than an instrument—it was her only true companion. The only thing that begged her not to stop singing. The only thing that breathed life into her and set her heart ablaze with passion… just like the boy who had given it to her.
Though years had passed and life had pulled them apart, his face remained vivid—like a dream she could never quite shake. His piercing blue eyes, so striking they seemed almost transparent, haunted her memories. He had been the one who gave her courage when fear threatened to silence her voice.
She could still hear her mother’s sharp reprimands whenever she sang.
“I want you to be a lawyer. A lawyer, Isa. Not a musician!”
No one—neither her mother nor her so-called friends—had supported her dream. But he had. He had listened, believed, and told her that even the dead would wake to hear her voice. And she had believed him. She had chased the dream, clung to his faith in her even after life had stolen him away. She had followed her passion and left everything else behind.
But… it was time to let go.
A bittersweet smile played on her lips as she wondered—if they ever met again, would he be disappointed? Would he understand?
She imagined him standing with his hands on his hips, shaking his head the way he always did.
“You don’t believe in yourself, Isa.” He had said those words when she hesitated to enter their school’s singing competition. “Then trust me when I say your voice isn’t ugly. It’s beautiful. And it’s not just the trees and birds that should hear it—people should, too.”
A quiet chuckle escaped her, but it was cut short as a lump tightened in her throat. She sniffled, blinking rapidly against the tears welling in her eyes.
Then—footsteps.
Her mother’s firm, deliberate stride. And David’s eager, bouncing steps.
Heart pounding, Isabella sprang into action. She yanked the wardrobe open, shoved the guitar and headphones inside, and buried them beneath layers of fabric. Just as she shut the door, her mother entered. Isa quickly sat on the dressing table.
Kelly clasped her hands and took a seat at the desk, scanning the room with a critical eye.
“Everything’s set,” she said, resting a hand on her hip.
David, ever observant, pointed at Isabella’s face. “Aunty Isa, your eyes are red!” he exclaimed.
Isabella’s breath still. She blinked, her eyes widening as her mother turned toward her. Forcing a laugh, she scooped David into her arms. “You’re imagining things, Dav.” She ruffled his hair, settling him on her lap. “My eyes are fine.”
Kelly’s gaze remained skeptical. “I think he’s right. Your eyes—”
“Oh, Mom!” Isabella rubbed at them hastily. “Maybe it’s stress. You know… my eyes get red when I’m tired.”
The last thing she needed was for her mother to suspect anything. She could still hear the conversation from dinner replaying in her mind—her mother’s thinly veiled warning that she could quit the job and disappoint her all over again. If she found the guitar, if she sensed even a flicker of hesitation, she’d return to that cold, unyielding disappointment.
Isabella’s pulse quickened as she cast a glance at the wardrobe.
What if her mother opened it?
“It’s getting late, Mum.” She stood, glancing at the clock on her desk. “It’s past eight. You should head home.”
“I don’t wanna go!” David squirmed out of her grasp and bolted toward the bed, flopping onto it and burying his face in the pillow.
Isabella blinked, stunned.
“Dav…” She cleared her throat. “You have school tomorrow.”
“It’s not that late,” Kelly mumbled. “And I don’t trust you. You and your rough lifestyle—you might forget to iron your dress for tomorrow, so I’ll help you.”
Before Isabella could protest, Kelly was already moving toward the wardrobe.
Her breath hitched. Pulse hammering, she stepped in front of it, blocking the way. Her palms were slick with sweat, her heart a wild drumbeat against her ribs.
“I’ll do it, Mum.” She flashed an exaggerated smile. “You’ve done enough already.”
Kelly crossed her arms, eyeing her from head to toe.
Her mother’s gaze lingered on her outfit—her usual oversized round-neck shirt, baggy jeans, and the black-stringed pendant resting against her chest.
“When will you change this style of yours? Do you still think you’re a rock star? It’s time to dress like a proper lady. People laugh at you, you know?”
Isabella’s jaw tightened.
Did she ever care about what I wanted?
“And when was the last time you even dated?” Kelly scoffed. “You don’t have friends. How do you live like this, Isa?”
The truth was, no one had ever believed in her dream.
Her last relationship—back in university—had ended like all the others. He had mocked her, just like everyone else. So she had walked away, refusing to surround herself with people who didn’t understand.
Being alone didn’t hurt. It was peaceful. She could exist in her own world, with her music, without anyone tearing her down.
But suddenly, she wished she could disappear. Run away—from this house, this community, this suffocating weight of responsibility. For just a moment, she longed to be free.
Isabella swallowed hard, forcing herself to glance at the clock again. The room felt smaller, emptier, despite the people standing in it.
“You should start going home,” she murmured, moving to the bed and scooping David into her arms.
David wriggled, letting out a cry of protest. Heat rushed through Isabella’s veins, but she forced a deep breath, steadying her voice.
“Get down, Dav,” she said softly, smiling through the tension. “You have school tomorrow.”
“No! I don’t wanna leave!”
“You sister is right,” Kelly interjected, picking him up and kissing his chubby cheek. “Be a good boy, Dav. Let’s go home.”
David sniffled but rested his head against her shoulder in defeat.
As Kelly gathered her handbag, she cast Isabella one final glance. “Make sure you iron your dress,” she warned. “And don’t mess up this job with your incompetence.”
Isabella’s fingers curled into fists. She forced herself to unclench them as she followed her mother to the door.
“Call me when you get home,” she whispered, throat tight.
Kelly nodded. “Okay, dear.”
As soon as the door shut behind them, Isabella returned to her room and collapsed onto the bed. She buried her face in the pillow, gripping it tightly, muffling the quiet sob that escaped into the fabric.
Thanks for reading!
ns52.15.53.236da2
