"Miss J, but what’s your real na?" Bella asked curiously, tucking her feet under her on the chair. "If you don’t mind asking, I an."
Miss J laughed, that warm, lodic sound that made Bella feel like everything was okay. "You want to know?"
"Yes, yes! I really want to know." Bella nodded eagerly, even though Miss J couldn’t see her. "I’ve been calling you Miss J in my head, but that’s like a secret identity na. I want to know the real you."
Another laugh, softer this ti. "You’re so sweet, Isabella. Always curious. Always wanting to connect."
"Is that bad?"
"No, sweetheart. It’s beautiful." A pause. "Hmm. My original na... it’s one I don’t use much anymore. But for you, I’ll share."
Bella leaned closer to the phone, as if that would help her hear better.
"My na is Jocelyne."
The word was soft, elegant, a na that sounded like whispered secrets and old poetry.
"Jocelyne," Bella repeated slowly, tasting the syllables. "Jocelyne. That’s so pretty. It sounds classic but modern at the sa ti."
Miss J, Jocelyne, chuckled softly. "It’s French originally. ans ’joyful.’ My mother had high hopes for ."
"Joyful," Bella whispered. "That fits you. You make feel joyful when we talk."
A long pause on the other end. When Jocelyne spoke, her voice was thick. "You’re very special, Isabella. Do you know that?"
Bella blushed. "I just say what I feel."
"That’s exactly what makes you special." A soft breath. "No one has called joyful in a very long ti."
"Well, you are. To ." Bella hugged her pillow. "Jocelyne. Can I call you that? Or do you prefer Miss J?"
"You can call Jocelyne. Or Jojo. My nephew used to call Jojo when he was little."
"Jojo," Bella tested, grinning. "That’s adorable. It sounds like a nickna for soone who gives the best hugs."
Jocelyne laughed, a real, warm laugh. "I do give excellent hugs, as a matter of fact."
"Then Jojo it is."
"Jojo it is." A pause. "Thank you, Isabella. For asking. For caring."
"Thank you for telling , Jojo. I feel like I know the real you now."
"The feeling is mutual, sweet girl. The feeling is mutual."
---
"Bella..."
Leo’s voice died in his throat as he reached the doorway of her PC room.
She was inside, curled up in her chair, phone pressed to her ear, and she was glowing.
Not the usual smile she wore for him, the sweet, loving one that made his heart lt. This was different. This was pure, unfiltered joy. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, her whole body practically vibrating with happiness as she laughed at sothing the person on the other end said.
He stopped in the doorway. Didn’t announce himself. Didn’t move.
Just watched.
Who was this? Who made her smile like that? Happy like he’d never seen her before? She was always cheerful, always bright, his little bunny who brought light into every room. But this... this was different. Deeper. Freer. Like a weight he hadn’t known she carried had montarily lifted.
He leaned against the doorfra, arms crossing over his chest, curiosity burning through the remnants of his guilt.
"You’re making a painting inspired by ?" Bella’s voice was breathless, disbelieving.
On the other end, Jocelyne’s warm laugh filtered through. "Yes, sweet girl. I’ve been looking for inspiration everywhere, the usual places, the dark corners where my art usually lives. But then I kept thinking about you. About our conversations. About the way you see the world."
Bella’s blush deepened. "?"
"You." Jocelyne’s voice softened. "I want to make sothing different, Isabella. Not my usual gloomy, deep paintings full of pain and longing. I want joy in my art for once. I want lightness. Warmth. I want to paint the way you make feel."
Bella pressed a hand to her chest, overwheld. "Jocelyne..."
"I’m serious. You’ve inspired . This old artist, painting the sa shadows for years, and then a sweet girl with pink cheeks calls and suddenly I want to paint sunshine." A soft laugh. "You’re magic, you know that?"
Bella shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. "I’m not magic. I’m just ."
"That’s exactly the magic." Jocelyne paused. "I’m going to call it ’Isabella’s Light.’ What do you think?"
Bella couldn’t speak for a mont. When she finally did, her voice cracked. "I think... I think that’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for ."
"Sweet girl. Don’t cry."
"I’m not crying." Bella wiped her eyes, laughing through the tears. "Okay, maybe a little."
"That’s my fault. I’ll make it up to you. You’ll see the painting when it’s done. If you like it, it’s yours."
"Mine?"
"Yours. Who else would it belong to? You’re the inspiration."
Bella buried her face in her knees for a mont, overwheld. When she looked up, she was smiling brighter than before.
"Jocelyne?"
"Yes, sweet girl?"
"Thank you. For everything. For being my friend. For listening. For painting sothing beautiful because of ." She sniffled. "I didn’t know I could have sothing like this."
"A friend?"
"Soone who sees . Really sees . And thinks I’m worth painting sunshine for."
Jocelyne was quiet for a mont. When she spoke, her voice was thick too. "You’re worth a thousand paintings, Isabella. Don’t ever doubt that."
They talked a while longer about the painting, about life, about nothing and everything. Bella laughed, cried, laughed again.
And Leo watched from the doorway.
Watched his wife light up in a way he’d never seen.
Watched her share pieces of herself with soone else.
Sothing twisted in his chest. Not jealousy, not exactly. Sothing more complicated. Gratitude, that she had this. Guilt, that maybe he hadn’t been giving her enough. Wonder, at the depth of the woman he’d married.
He slipped away quietly before she noticed him. But her laughter followed him down the hall.
He went into his study, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.
For a mont, he just stood there, leaning against the wood, her laughter still echoing in his ears. That sound. That pure, joyful sound. He wanted to be the reason for it. He wanted to see her light up like that because of him.
He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts.
Assistant 5 answered on the first ring. "Sir!" His voice was cheerful, always ready. "What do you need?"
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