When up-and-coming model Isabelle meets talented but jaded photographer Milo, sparks fly despite their age difference. Their romance becomes the talk of the New York City fashion scene, fueling rumors and speculation about their scandalous affair. A...
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Waking up to the familiar warmth of the desert air wrapping around her like a comforting embrace, the nostalgia hit her hard. The golden hues of the sunrise over the horizon - she was jet-lagged- painted the sky in a palette of reds and purples, casting a serene glow over the landscape.
Nobody was up yet, but she walked out barefoot into the morning air in their backyard. The morning was cool from the cold night.
She fed the dog and got ready for the day. She knew the day was mostly going to be lounging around, but it was a welcome change after her last few, hectic New York weeks.
She looked over the cacti standing tall, and the smell of desert sage evoked a sense of belonging. Struck by how the cactus garden looked like the ocean floor.
Her mom was the first to get up. The scent of her mother's homemade cooking filled the air soon enough, triggering memories of family brunches and laughter. Also heartbreak in a way that can only come from your family.
But Isabelle couldn't help but smile, grateful for the grounding feeling of being surrounded by the love of her family. And yet, she had a strange sense of disconnectedness. As if they were on a different wavelength.
She understood it, her parents had their own lives here. Their problems and joys, and their realities were quite far from each other. But she was still their daughter, and she yearned for that familiar connection with her mother, to make her feel like she did when she was little...but something was happening. Nobody was doing anything wrong per se, but she felt like they were looking at her but they weren't seeing her.
It made her uncomfortable. Was it because she didn't tell them about Milo? She never kept anything from her parents, but she realized that something as special and fragile as her relationship with Milo should be protected.
Yet, it was bursting from her chest.
So after many days of replaying this scenario in her head, it inevitably all came out. She couldn't keep it in any longer.
"Mom, Dad, there's someone I ...met," Isabelle began tentatively over a family dinner. "His name is Milo, and he's a photographer."
Her parents exchanged knowing glances, their smiles hiding a touch of concern. Isabelle could sense their reservations but decided to share more about Milo, hoping they would see what she saw in him. Or at least the context.
She wished she had more girlfriends to talk about this with, but her parents would have to do.
"He's not like anyone I've ever met," she started, and all of a suddent couldn't stop. "Milo has this way of capturing the essence of a person, of telling a story through his photographs. And he sees something in me that no one else does."
Her parents listened, their expressions softening as Isabelle spoke from the heart. Yet, the doubt lingered in the air, an unspoken concern that tugged at the edges of her consciousness.
