"Well… she snores in such a cute way I couldn't resist," Luca finally confessed, his voice wobbling under the crushing weight of Isabella's deadpan, soul-piercing stare.
He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, rubbed the back of his neck, then tried to smile—but even that faltered halfway through. His eyes darted to the side in desperation. A leaf. A rock. A very judgmental tree. Anything but her face.
The truth was, he hadn't meant to wake Glimora. He really hadn't.
He'd walked in to drop the fruits off like the responsible man-child he occasionally pretended to be. But then—there she was.
Curled in a little ball on top of one of Isabella's hide, her white fur puffed out like she'd just rolled out of a cloud. Her tiny chest rising and falling gently. Her chubby legs twitching slightly in sleep. Her long ears drooped over her face. And then—then—the sound.
