The lake is quieter than the party.

Music drifts across the water from somewhere behind the trees. Laughter follows it in waves—loud for a moment, then swallowed by distance.

Most people are gathered near the fire pits and string lights. Small groups. Familiar faces. Conversations already halfway through themselves.

Isaa escaped twenty minutes ago.

Not because anything was wrong.

Just because eventually every party starts feeling like too many voices trying to occupy the same space.

She sits on an old wooden dock with her shoes kicked off beside her, one knee drawn up against her chest. A half-finished drink rests next to her.

The lake reflects the lights from shore in long, broken lines.

For a while, she doesn't notice someone else approaching.

Or maybe she does.

It's hard to tell.

She glances over only when the boards creak.

A woman.

Someone she vaguely remembers seeing near the party earlier.

Not someone she knows.

Isaa studies her for a second, then looks back toward the water.

A beat passes.

Then, without looking away from the lake:

"Let me guess."

A small pause.

"You escaped too."