Goodness, I'm so sorry for the unexplained hiatus! Things have been crazy - school is coming to a close, leaving for vacation next week, so many plans to work out for the dance recital...
I'm sorry. Though I can't promise anything, I will attempt to be more consistent with the chapters. : ) Hope you're all doing well.

To claim Phineas and Isabella were in constant accord would be false. They argued – they argued and they argued, to the point where Isabella questioned her agreement to marriage. Today's strife had come from miscommunication; nothing particularly new. Phineas lay in bed, however, frustrated with the looming doubt. That was certainly new.

It was new, and he had had enough of it.

"Isabella… Isabella, wake up!" The young man turned to shake his wife, immediately regretful of his actions. Disturbing such peace was his last wish.

Isabella's eyes slowly adjusted to her surroundings. "My goodness, Phineas, it's three in the morning. Is everything okay?"

"Can I please ask you something?" Accompanied was an expression so closely resembling a child, Isabella couldn't help but comply.

"Sure," she nearly laughed.

He began with no hesitation. "Just, for one second, imagine circumstances where you wake up, and I'm still in a really deep sleep."

"Ah, but you woke up when I was still asleep – peacefully, at that."
"Mmm, hypothetical situation. That's beside the point."
"Touché."

"Regardless…" he would chuckle, but tension was still palpable. "A bright light shines through the window – brighter than anything you've ever seen before. A train pulls to the side of the house. It's golden, and the sun is gleaming along its windows. The conductor walks out, joyfully. He tells you the train will take you anywhere you've ever wanted to be. 'You'll never be happier,'" Phineas feigned the conductor. "Would you… go? To wherever the train would be taking you?"

Silence prevailed for a few moments. "Well, those are silly circumstances," Isabella retorted. She appeared to be serious, as per Phineas' terms… Would she really disregard his emotions like this?

"Isabella," he pleaded, "can I just have an answer without any jovial-"

"You're worried about all of these arguments, huh?"

Wordlessly, his knees drew to his chest. "I just… it's horrible, Isabella. All I want is for you to be happy all the time, but I'm always doing something wrong. Miscommunication, power struggles. Never is it intentional – that makes it hurt even more. I don't want you to leave, but I feel like you're going to one day."

Isabella's eyebrows furrowed. For such an irrational fear of displaying fear, rare exceptions as these worried her.

"Phineas, am I laying besides you?" she inquired.

Almost feeling it necessary to confirm, the question forced his glance sideways. "Yes. Yes, you are."

"Is my hand wearing the ring you crafted for me – just for me – six months ago?"
"Yes."
"Do I consistently nurture the home you built as a symbol of us?"
"Yes, but—"
"Do you love me?"

Phineas' eyebrow rose in mirth. Her knowledge of that answer was plenty existent, and he knew.

"Considering..." She smiled of empathy. "No, I wouldn't leave."

Moonlight gleamed subtly, and owls cooed their usual sign of peace. Phineas, though, refused to accept the gesture. Isabella had never seen him like this. Lines resided between his eyebrows, shoulders hunched in despondency. His innocence was present as ever… Did that only hurt him? Was he so naïve as to think her love would stray?

"You don't – you don't even understand, do you?" she asked, shocked at the revelation. "Phineas, all of my dreams are constituted here. You have to remember that. We have our rough days, but… our mistakes teach us about life. That's why we're sharing it together. You're everything to me, Phineas. Minutes without you would be like… excuse the poor analogy, but a desert without rain." She reached a hand to his cheek. "Our relationship is just indigenous. We were meant to stay together, and I will never leave you. Always remember that. Promise?"

Days later, Phineas remembered. Sirens, blindingly fluorescent lights, nor the roaring shouts of doctors could vex his memory. Her laughter remained through the cries of family members. Ebony locks, cerulean eyes, bright smiles flashed through his mind at the surgeon's words. "Our deepest apologies for your loss," they empathized. "She was a wonderful woman." Phineas failed to listen, legs buckling to the ground with his tears.

A beep. His hands drew from his face, allowing sight. The sound grew louder; more rapid.

Her voice became resonant. Though weak, Isabella's eyelids granted view of Phineas. Warmth was ushered through her smile when their hands joined.

She stayed.