After that day, meeting Isabella became part of my life. Every afternoon, as soon as the last school bell rang, I would hurry along the forest trail leading to the lake. Somehow, she was always there. Sometimes she sat on the large rock with a book resting on her lap. Other days, I would find her dancing barefoot across the soft grass while the wind played with her long hair. There were moments when she simply sang to herself, her voice blending so naturally with the rustling trees and the gentle ripples of the lake that it felt as though the forest itself was singing with her. Whenever she was around, the entire place seemed to come alive. On weekends, I stayed even longer. I brought books from the library, homemade sandwiches, fresh fruit, and sometimes pastries from the bakery near our house. She never asked me to bring anything, but she always greeted me with a warm smile that somehow made the trip worthwhile.
One day, I jokingly asked for her phone number so we could text each other instead of waiting until our next meeting. She simply smiled and told me that her phone had broken a long time ago. She said she had never bothered buying another one because she didn't really have a use for it. "We still have a telephone at home," she added so casually that I couldn't help but stare at her in surprise. I laughed to myself, amazed that someone my age could live without a cellphone. It was as if she belonged to a different generation, untouched by the world everyone else had grown so dependent on. In the end, I just smiled and let the thought go. After all, I could always find her here by the lake.
"I brought food," I announced one Saturday, raising the picnic basket.
She peeked inside.
"Oh?" she said, pretending to inspect everything seriously. "Nothing poisonous?"
I laughed.
"Only if you're secretly a monster."
She placed a hand over her chest dramatically.
"You've discovered my greatest secret."
I widened my eyes.
"I knew it!"
She giggled.
"I'm joking, Ace."
"I know."
"...Do you?"
"...Maybe not."
She laughed so hard that a flock of birds burst from the nearby trees, their wings fluttering noisily into the sky. Her laughter was bright and contagious, and before I knew it, I was laughing with her. We spent hours talking about almost everything—our favorite books, childhood memories, silly stories, and dreams for the future. Somehow, every conversation with Isabella felt effortless, as if we had known each other for years. One quiet afternoon, while we were sitting beneath the shade of the old tree overlooking the lake, I opened one of the books I had brought with me.
"Did you know octopuses have three hearts?" I asked proudly.
She blinked.
"Three?"
I nodded confidently.
"One pumps blood around the body, while the other two pump blood to the gills."
She smiled.
"Then why is their blood blue?"
I scratched my head.
"Uh..."
She waited.
"...I actually don't know."
She couldn't hold back her laughter.
"Because their blood uses copper instead of iron to carry oxygen."
I stared at her.
"How do you know all these things?"
She shrugged.
"I like learning."
"No," I said, narrowing my eyes playfully. "You're secretly a walking encyclopedia."
She laughed.
"Then ask me another question."
"Fine."
I pointed toward the sky.
"Why is the sky blue?"
"Because sunlight is made of many colors. Blue light scatters more easily in Earth's atmosphere than the other colors."
I blinked.
"You answered that way too fast."
She smiled proudly.
"My turn."
I crossed my arms.
"Go ahead."
"What is the strongest muscle in the human body?"
"The biceps."
She slowly shook her head.
"Nope."
"The legs?"
She shook her head again.
I sighed dramatically.
"I give up."
"The jaw muscle," she answered with a grin. "The masseter."
"I've been defeated."
"You've been defeated many times."
"Can you at least let me win once?"
She pretended to think about it.
"...No."
I laughed, shaking my head.
"You really enjoy proving me wrong."
"I enjoy watching your confidence disappear."
"Ouch."
She smiled sweetly.
"But I like talking with you."
For some reason, those simple words stayed with me far longer than any lesson I had ever learned in school. Day after day, we shared stories about our lives, laughed over the silliest jokes, exchanged random facts, and spent countless hours reading together in comfortable silence. Without even realizing it, the forest and the quiet lake had slowly become more than just a place I visited. Because of her, they had quietly become my favorite place in the world—a place where, for the first time in a long while, I felt at peace.