Olivia didn’t answer, but her crying intensified, her chest rising and falling in a heavy rhythm.

“Cry,” Ísis insisted in a whisper. “Let it out. Get rid of that knot that’s choking you. No one here is going to judge you.” She gave her a small, sad smile. “And listen… you can trust me. I keep secrets better than recipes.” She paused, her gaze steady. “He won’t find out anything. If that’s what you’re afraid of. I just want to help.”

Her voice carried a rare balance—lightness and conviction, the