Until now, Marian still found herself smiling whenever the memory of their Disneyland trip surfaced—sometimes unexpectedly, sometimes when the world was quiet and her thoughts wandered. It wasn’t just the rides or the bright colors or the way the castle glittered under the afternoon sun. It was Isabella.
The way her eyes lit up at everything, as if magic truly existed and Disneyland was its beating heart. The way she laughed—full-bodied, unrestrained, the kind of joy that came from a place untouched by disappointment or fear. Marian remembered how Isabella’s small hand fit perfectly in hers, how she skipped instead of walked, how she insisted on pointing out every character as if they were old friends.
That happiness—pure and unfiltered—was something money could never buy. It was fleetin
