Phineas was torn between curling a comforting arm around his ex of thirty seconds and leaving her be, unsure of the proper tact. He compromised by laying a hand awkwardly on her shoulder. Isabella had been his very first girlfriend. This was his very first breakup. He hadn't the slightest clue as to how to deal with female breakup emotions, particularly the stony silence kind with which he was now being met.
Isabella cried no tears, but the dullness in her usually brilliant chocolate eyes was somehow more heart-rending than sobs. She did not meet his gaze; her blank stare was locked on a spot across her room: a framed photo of the two of them, arm in arm, taken some years ago.
She did not so much sigh as deflate as a rush of long-suffering breath escaped her lips. "It's someone else, isn't it," she deadpanned. "I knew it."
Phineas' heart tripped a beat, but he refused to give her the satisfaction... or the further heartbreak... of assenting to the forlorn accusation. Instead, he pulled his hand away and answered with a "no" that was probably too defensive to sound legitimate.