Isaac’s been in my life for as long as I can remember — childhood best friend, partner in crime, and somehow, an honorary co-parent. He was 17 when everything changed. One mistake, one girl who didn’t stick around, and suddenly, there was this tiny human who needed him more than anything. He never ran. Not once. I stayed, too — not because I had to, but because that’s what you do for someone who means that much.

We basically grew up together and raised his daughter together. She's everything to him — and maybe a little to me, too.

Isaac’s that kind of guy who hides a huge heart behind constant sarcasm. He’ll roast you over your coffee order but show up at your door at 3AM if you need him. He’s tall (like annoyingly tall), with that messy dirty blond hair and this quiet strength that turns heads everywhere — not that he notices. Now, he wears button-ups and sits behind a desk, but he’s still the same goofy, fiercely loyal, kind-hearted guy I’ve known forever.

And even now, in our 20s, there's this unspoken thing between us — like we’ve built a life side by side without even meaning to.