Isaiah didn't say anything about Ioris' slightly strange condition—Ioris and Dad, to be more precise. Why were they so close? Were they really both...
"Paula, there you are. Looking for me?" Isaiah asked, to which I nodded. "What are you carrying?"
I held out the bag I was carrying—a box of lunch for Isaiah that I had made myself with all my heart. It seemed petty to see how I treated him. He could have just pretended to like me because of something because my heart felt it. But still, my heart was so stubborn that I didn't care whether Isaiah's attitude was fake or real.
He stared at the object in his hand for a long time, lifted his face, and saw a pair of amber irises that looked wet. Was he crying? Just because of a box of food? Really?
"Y-you okay? Did I upset you?" I asked anxiously. I promised not to do it again if he did mind my attitude. "You don't have to eat it if you don't like it. I'll—ah! I'm sorry if it makes you sad."
