"No."
Isabella turned her head toward Zyran and pointed at Cyrus with one finger. "Look at him. He is."
Zyran crossed his arms and looked at Cyrus with exaggerated seriousness. "He is."
Cyrus looked between the two of them as if they were both impossible. "This is unfair."
Isabella smiled. "Heh."
Then she softened a little and said, "Relax. I told you already. I'm going to give birth soon, not die."
The sentence came out so casually that both men felt something twist inside them anyway.
Because that was exactly the kind of thing that frightened them.
She could still joke.
She could still smile.
She did not know.
The room fell quiet for one small breath again, and when it did, Isabella's suspicion returned immediately.
"What?" she asked sharply. "Why do you both keep doing that?"
"Doing what?" Zyran asked.
"That look."
"What look?"
"That one." She pointed between them. "That silent one. I hate it."
