Chapter 22: Late-Night Talk
The words caught in Julian's throat. "This…"
He tried several times but couldn't sort out his thoughts. It wasn't really about hygiene that bothered him. What made his ears burn was the shy, intimate realization of an indirect kiss. His still somewhat boyish mind remained painfully sensitive to things like this.
Thinking back on those hazy early memories, not many events stood out clearly. One thing he knew for certain was how close he and Isabella had been back then. She had always treated him so well, almost as if he really were her little brother.
He was sure his younger self had never harbored any improper thoughts toward her. He simply knew this big sister was beautiful, gentle, smart, and an incredible cook. He had liked her in the purest, most innocent way possible.
But now he was nearly eighteen, most of the awkwardness of adolescence behind him and standing on the edge of adulthood. He had developed a clear awareness of the line between boys and girls, along with the instinctive understanding that some distances should be kept.
"I didn't eat much."
Isabella studied the dazed look on Julian's face. He still hadn't picked up his fork. She realized he had truly grown up. He now understood the need to maintain proper boundaries with the opposite sex. Unlike when he was little… he wasn't quite as obedient anymore.
"Or does Jules find his sister disgusting now?"
Her voice remained soft and teasing, but something colder flickered far back in her eyes. If he wouldn't listen willingly, she would simply have to teach him again.
"No, no! That's not what I meant at all."
Julian quickly lifted the bowl and began eating. The rice tasted exactly the same as before, yet his mind kept repeating the fact that Isabella had just been eating from this very bowl.
In the end he still finished every grain. Looking at the leftover dishes on the table and the empty bowls in front of them, he said, "I'm full. Let me wash the dishes."
"Not yet." Isabella smiled, her gaze still locked on him. "Talk with your sister for a while first. It's been so many years… Jules has really grown up."
"Yeah. You've become even more beautiful, Isabella."
It was the truth. The Isabella in his memories had been about the same age he was now, similar in some ways to Margaret—gentle, lovely, and still carrying that fresh youthful charm. The woman before him now possessed an additional layer of mature elegance and warmth.
"So… did Jules miss his sister?"
"Of course I did. You left so suddenly without saying goodbye. I was sad for a long time."
"I see. I'm sorry about that." She tilted her slender neck, her long smooth hair falling over one shoulder. "At the time… my father passed away. The family called me back to handle everything."
Julian felt a sharp sting in his chest. He murmured quietly, "I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize. It wasn't your fault." Isabella reached out and stroked his hair again. She loved this obedient expression on him. Or rather… this was exactly how he was meant to be.
"Is your family doing okay now?"
"It's better these days. No one can control me anymore. What about you, Jules? I haven't seen your dad around."
"My father… he passed away a few years ago."
Julian lowered his head, eyes downcast, his voice growing very soft.
He had long since moved past the worst of the grief and grown used to life without his parents' protection. But seeing Isabella again brought everything rushing back in vivid detail, including his father's tired, aging face.
"I'm sorry. I brought up something painful."
"It's alright. I'm okay now. You just told me earlier not to apologize for things that aren't my fault."
"That's true." Isabella's smile returned, indulgent and fond like an older family member spoiling a child. "So you're a senior now?"
"Yeah. I graduate next year."
"Then… is there any girl at school you like? You've grown so handsome. There must be plenty of pretty girls around you, right?"
"No, nothing like that. I only have two or three friends I really talk to."
"Not even one girl you like?" Isabella tilted her head slightly, her long lashes lowering as her eyes filled with amusement. The playful question carried a hidden edge.
The first face that flashed through Julian's mind was Margaret Monroe. He didn't know why her image appeared so suddenly. Maybe he really did like her. But he kept denying it to himself, afraid to admit it or take any step closer.
"No… not really."
"Really? Why do you sound so unsure? Did Jules just think of someone specific?"
"No, I didn't…" Julian continued denying it, painfully aware of how obvious the lie was. His fingers twisted the hem of his shirt, palms damp with sweat.
"Alright, alright. Your sister believes you. With the SATs and college applications coming up next year, you should focus all your energy on studying anyway."
Isabella started clearing the bowls and stood up. When Julian moved to help, she waved him off gently. "Your sister can handle this. You're going to school and working part-time—you must be exhausted. Go back and rest early."
Julian didn't push it. A little embarrassed, he picked up his plastic bag. "Then I'll head out. If you need anything, Isabella, just knock on the door next door."
"Mhm, I will."
…
At 9:53 p.m., Julian sat on the edge of his bed. The cold night wind scraped against the windows. Scattered lights flickered faintly in the distance. The room felt freezing cold without any heat.
Reuniting with Isabella had been completely unexpected. The timing almost felt arranged by fate. Just as he was approaching adulthood and about to graduate and leave, she had suddenly reappeared—the same way she had once vanished.
He had always regretted that Isabella left without a proper goodbye. He never got the chance to thank her for all the kindness she had shown him back then. At least now she was back, and he finally had the opportunity to make up for that regret.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
A soft, measured knock sounded at the door. Julian walked over and opened it. Isabella stood outside holding a change of clothes, smiling at him with the same warmth as a gentle spring breeze.
"The water in my apartment suddenly stopped working. I can't shower or sleep properly over there. Would it be okay if I used yours and stayed the night?"
"Of course. You can take my room, Isabella." Julian stepped aside, giving her space to enter.
"Thank you, Jules. Sorry to impose like this."
"It's really no trouble. The bathroom is right there." Julian pointed to the frosted glass door. Noticing she only carried clothes, he added, "Shampoo and body wash are on the windowsill. I'll get you a clean towel."
"Mhm, thanks."
Isabella stepped into the small bathroom. The space was cramped and dimly lit, everything squeezed tightly together. Cold air still lingered inside.
She turned back toward Julian, who was standing in the doorway holding a fresh blue towel, and asked softly, "Then where will you sleep?"
"I'll take my dad's old room. It's a bit messy and needs some tidying. Once you're done showering, just go to sleep. The washing machine has been acting up, so you can leave your clothes for now. It's late—we can handle laundry tomorrow."
Julian handed her the towel and pulled the opaque glass door shut. "Call me if you need anything. I'll leave the slippers outside the door."
"Alright. Sorry for the trouble, Jules."
"Don't worry about it. Good night, Isabella."
"Good night."