Iris POV:

The thrill of anticipation bubbled up inside me as Ace drove us through the bustling streets of Manhattan.

Today was special—it had been far too long since I last saw my brother, and the thought of reuniting with him filled me with equal parts joy and nerves.

I missed him terribly, and Ace's willingness to bring me here meant so much.

But every single time I glanced at Ace, my gaze inevitably drifted to his lips.

His lips.

I swallowed. No, no, no.

Brain, we are not doing this today.

Unfortunately, my brain was a traitor.

Because those lips reminded me exactly what they had been doing this morning.

The memory struck like lightning—warmth spreading from my cheeks all the way down my spine, wrapping around my body like a shameful, traitorous embrace.

No.

No!

That was not an appropriate thought to have right now. Think of Isaac, Iris!

Your brother. Family. Purity.

I slapped my own cheeks.

Gosh, it was such a dirty thing to do.

Do all people feel this way?

But Ace didn't seem the least bit affected. He was completely normal.

Unfazed. Like nothing had happened.

How?!

Wasn't he even a little awkward about it?

A little flustered?

Was he secretly embarrassed?

Or was he just—comfortable with it?

I peeked at him from the corner of my eye.

He looked just as he always did—confident, self-assured, completely in control.

One hand on the steering wheel, the other resting lazily on his lap, his posture relaxed.

Meanwhile, I was sitting here vibrating like an over-caffeinated squirrel.

"Mini," Ace's deep, velvety voice broke through my spiraling thoughts.

I nearly jumped out of my seat. "Yes?!"

Smooth, Iris. Very smooth.

His eyes flickered toward me, then back to the road. "Are you nervous?"

His hand shifted—warm fingers rubbing my bare thigh.

I almost ascended to heaven.

The warmth of his touch shot up my entire body, and I tensed like a deer caught in headlights.

Oh.

Oh.

Right. The dress.

The traitorous, sinful dress that exposed so much skin thanks to Ace's preferences.

I resisted the urge to yank the hem down to my knees.

"What are you thinking?" His tone softened as his hand continued tracing slow, absentminded patterns on my thigh. "You look troubled."

I stared blankly at him, my brain running in every direction except the one I needed.

Gosh, my ears were on fire.

I panicked. "Nothing! Just sleepy."

The worst excuse in history.

Ace definitely didn't believe me, but he didn't push.

He just hummed, as if making a mental note.

Meanwhile, deep in my subconscious, my inner voice cackled like an evil villain.

"Possibly considering his lips on your vagina."

I choked.

Oh. My. Jesus.

What was WRONG with me?!

DIRTY IRIS. BAD IRIS.

STOP IT.

RIGHT. NOW!

I shook my head furiously, as if I could physically shake away the memory and the thoughts that came with it.

Why was I like this?

I needed to go to church. Find a priest. Bathe in holy water.

Suddenly, I felt Ace's hand slide dangerously close to my no-no place, and my breath caught in my throat.

Holy mother of all things sacred.

I froze like a criminal caught red-handed, my entire body betraying me with a full-body blush.

I slowly turned my head, expecting a smirk, expecting to see some hint of mischief in his face.

But no.

Ace's eyes were still on the road, completely normal, calm, and focused—as if his hand wasn't millimeters away from kitty pitty.

HE'S NOT EVEN THINKING ABOUT IT.

He's not the pervert here— IT'S ME.

The realization hit like a truck.

I felt even worse. My shame deepened.

As if I was the one being indecent.

As if I was the shameless one, daring to read into things that weren't even there.

Buddha. Help me.

I swallowed, forcing my hands into my lap, gripping the hem of my dress.

The rest of the drive passed in tense silence—or rather, I was tense while Ace remained cool and unbothered.

Meanwhile, my mind was in shambles.

My brain? An absolute battlefield.

One side of me screamed, "Think about something else! Think about anything else! The weather, building, grocery shopping—LITERALLY ANYTHING."

The other side of me?

"But his fingers are right there, and—"

NO. NO.

I am not this person. I refuse.

By the time we finally arrived at Greenwich Village, I was three seconds away from needing an exorcism.

But all of that melted away when I saw Isaac's house.

A thrill of excitement surged through me, washing away my inappropriate thoughts.

The house was simple yet elegant, its ruddy brick exterior exuding a rich, timeless charm.

It looked like him.

Neat. Put-together. Safe.

My heart fluttered.

"Mini."

Ace's deep voice snapped me out of my daze, his thumb tapping gently on my thigh.

I looked at him, eyes shining with anticipation. "Yes! Can we go now?"

Ace nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips—not his usual smirk, but something softer.

Without wasting a second, I flung open the car door and bolted toward the house, my legs carrying me with a burst of energy.

But then—I stopped.

I turned around.

Something was off.

Ace hadn't followed.

He was still in the car.

Frowning, I tilted my head. "You're not coming?"

Ace remained where he was, hands resting on the steering wheel, looking at me with a quiet intensity.

"No."

I blinked.

What?

"Why?" I asked, confused.

Ace held my gaze for a few seconds, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

Then, he looked away. His jaw tightened like he was fighting something inside himself.

It was weird.

But I didn't want to push.

"Alright... but in case you change your mind, come inside," I said, offering him a grin before spinning around and heading for the door.

As I walked away, I could feel his eyes still on me, his presence lingering even from a distance.

But he didn't move.

Despite his evident dislike for my brother, he was here.

And the most interesting part?

He'd never even met my brother.

As I approached the front door, I glanced back one last time at Ace.

There he was—slumped in the driver's seat, looking like he'd rather wrestle a bear than get out of the car.

Still, my excitement bubbled over, and I turned back to the door, ringing the bell impatiently.

I bounced on my heels, hands tingling with anticipation.

Isaac. My brother. My only brother.

The door swung open.

Instead of Isaac, a young woman answered the door, her expression one of confusion.

"...Hello," she said, her voice cautious, eyes scanning me.

I blinked back at her. "Hello! Is this Isaac's house?"

As soon as the words left my mouth, I winced.

What if Isaac was just renting?

What if she was his landlord and now she thought I was here to evict him?

My soul nearly left my body.

The woman's expression shifted slightly, and I was about to start digging my own grave when she finally answered.

"Yeah... May I know who you are?"

Relief flooded through me so fast I nearly swayed. Thank God.

"I'm his sister," I said, my enthusiasm cranked up to maximum volume.

For a split second, her smile faltered. Just a flicker, but I saw it.

Weird.

But then she recovered, her expression smoothing back into something polite but guarded.

"Come inside," she said, stepping aside.

Okaaay... she's odd.

I walked in, cautiously glancing around.

No weird shrine to my brother.

No murder-y plastic sheets on the floor.

So far, so good.

"Sit here," she gestured toward a couch.

I perched on the very edge of the cushion, back straight, hands on my lap.

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to act normal or start marking my territory as the sibling. Kidding.

Meanwhile, my eyes wandered around the house.

It was cozy. Warm. Lived-in.

A stack of books sat on the coffee table.

A sweater was lazily draped over the armrest of a chair.

There were actual photos on the walls—Isaac with a bunch of people I didn't know, smiling like he belonged.

It was nice.

Way nicer than Ace's cold, vast, horror-movie-mansion.

Ace's house was the kind of place where if you screamed, no one would hear you.

Also—huge houses?

Terrifying.

They take forever to clean.

If someone gets lost, you might never find them.

And let's be honest—ghosts absolutely prefer mansions.

Big empty corridors? Ghosts.

A grand staircase? Ghosts.

A creepy, dimly lit hallway with a single flickering light? Oh, you bet, that's ghosts.

I cleared my throat, sitting up straighter.

Focus, Iris.

You're here to see your brother.

Not to evaluate the house for ghost activity.

"Iris."

A deep voice sent a shock through my system.

I turned so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet. Isaac.

There he was—standing at the top of the staircase like a scene straight out of a dramatic soap opera.

Except this was real.

And he looked... different.

The Isaac I remembered had always been a little scruffy, his hair an untamed mess, his expressions full of warmth.

But now?

His once-boyish face was framed by a light beard, his fluffy hair was shorter and neatly styled, and his sharp features made him look older, more put together.

He had changed.

A small part of me panicked. What if he wasn't the same Isaac anymore?

No. Impossible.

Before my mind could spiral, my body moved on its own.

I bolted toward him, throwing myself into his arms like I always used to, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist.

"ISAAC!" I squeaked, squeezing him as hard as I could.

"I missed you so much! Where were you all this time? I waited for you all these years, but you didn't call me or anything!"

The words poured out of me at lightning speed, a mix of relief and pent-up frustration bubbling to the surface.

Finally. I had found him. Finally.

I pulled back slightly, tilting my head up at him with an eager grin—

—only to be met with a face as blank as a brick wall.

My stomach dropped.

"Iris," he said, voice cool, distant. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

I blinked.

Wait.

What?

Not even a "Wow, you look great"? Not a single "I missed you too"?

I tried to shake it off, letting out a breathy laugh. "We haven't seen each other in so long, and this is the first thing you say? Not even a hug?"

I playfully slapped his arm, hoping to break whatever weird tension was in the air.

This was Isaac. My brother. He loved me. He—

"Iris, I am damn fucking serious!"

The sudden bite in his tone made me flinch.

His hands pried my arms off of him, pushing me back.

I stumbled, my heart hammering in my chest.

He had never spoken to me like that before.

My fingers curled into the hem of my dress, gripping the fabric like a lifeline. "M-My friend helped me find your address," I stammered.

Why was he acting like this?

His eyes narrowed.

"Why are you here?"

The way he said it—like I was some unwanted stranger—made something cold and painful settle deep in my gut.

"I... I-I missed you," I whispered, voice small. "That's why I came here. Do you need me to go back?"

"Yes."

No hesitation.

No guilt.

No warmth.

Just a single, merciless word that felt like a knife straight through my heart.

My breath hitched.

"S-Stop joking," I let out a nervous chuckle, gulping down the lump forming in my throat. "Isaac, come on. It's me. It's—"

But his expression didn't change.

He wasn't joking.

Something inside me shattered.

I took a shaky step back.

He doesn't love me anymore.

The realization hit like a tidal wave, knocking the air from my lungs.

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision, making the room spin.

And before I could stop myself, my body acted on instinct.

I ran.

I ran out of the house like I was being chased, like if I stayed a second longer, the weight of his rejection would crush me entirely.

I burst through the door, my chest aching, my vision swimming.

And then—

Ace.

He was there, leaning against the car door, his expression unreadable. Cold. Confused.

But the second his eyes locked onto me—his entire demeanor shifted.

"Mini," he called, his voice dipping into something softer, something gentle.

I didn't stop running until I crashed into him.

"Ace," I choked out, gripping onto him like a lifeline, my face burying into his chest as the first sob tore through me.

His arms immediately wrapped around me, pulling me against him.

I felt Ace's hands continue to rub slow, soothing circles on my back.

"Isaac... Isaac... he... he doesn't love me anymore," I choked out between my sobs, my face pressing against Ace's neck.

My brother didn't want me.

The words repeated over and over in my head, each time twisting deeper, like a cruel joke the universe was playing on me.

"Shh... it's okay, Mini," Ace murmured, his lips pressing a soft kiss on my cheeks.

"Do you want to go back again?" he asked, pulling back just enough to look at me. "Maybe he's joking or something."

I shook my head violently, whimpering softly.

Joking?

No. That hadn't felt like a joke.

That had felt real.

I didn't want to see Isaac again, not after what he just said.

I didn't like Isaac anymore.

Ace didn't push me further. He just continued holding me close, letting me drown in his warmth.

And then—

"Iris."

Isaac's voice.

I stiffened immediately, my hands curling into the fabric of Ace's shirt.

His tone was different now—not cold, but laced with confusion, maybe even softness.

Ace exhaled sharply but didn't move, his hand settling protectively on the small of my back.

I turned around reluctantly, my heart still aching, my throat raw from the effort of holding in another sob.

Isaac was standing at the door, watching us, his expression unreadable.

Ace's fingers brushed my cheek, wiping away my tears, and then—he set me down.

I immediately latched onto his arm, holding onto him tightly, like I was afraid Isaac would say something else to hurt me.

I didn't even look at him.

"Who is he?" Isaac asked suddenly, his eyes narrowing as they flickered to Ace, suspicion creeping into his voice.

Ah. There it is. The protective older brother act.

The same older brother who just told me to leave.

"Why... W-Why do you care?" I snapped, sniffing and rubbing my nose aggressively, my voice shaking from anger and betrayal.

I heard Isaac sigh. "Iris... I was just joking earlier, but you ran away before I could even clarify anything."

I froze.

What?

Isaac let out an exasperated chuckle, rubbing the back of his head, his lips twitching like he was fighting a smile.

"Now, are you still mad at me, Small Pig?" he teased, opening his arms for a hug.

...Excuse me?

I blinked, staring at him in utter disbelief.

I felt my left eye twitch. I was about to die from heartbreak, and this idiot was JOKING?

Do I look like I have a strong heart?!

My brain short-circuited for a second.

Ace's hand started rubbing comforting circles on my back again, his palm firm and warm against my dress, before giving me a small nudge toward Isaac.

I huffed. Betrayal.

Even Ace was siding with him now.

Still, I found myself smiling, despite my absolute need to strangle Isaac in his sleep.

Despite everything... he was still my brother.

My second father, as Dad used to say.

"After I'm gone, Isaac will be your second father."

I hesitated, my feet feeling like they were stuck in cement, before slowly—very slowly—stepping toward him.

One step.

Two steps.

Three—

And then I sprinted, slamming into him so hard he let out a grunt.

I hugged him firmly, burying my face into his shoulder, inhaling the familiar warmth I had missed for so long.

"Don't do that again," I muttered against his shirt, my voice dead serious, "and I'm not a pig anymore."

"Okay, okay," Isaac chuckled, patting my head, but as he backed away, something about his grin felt... off.

There was a tension between us now. Something unspoken. Like a barrier.

"Who is he?" Isaac asked again, his gaze sharpening as it flicked back to Ace. The tension in his voice made it clear.

He didn't trust him. Not a good start.

I forced a grin, trying to push away the awkwardness pressing down on my chest.

"Isaac, this is Ace, my boyfriend. Ace, this is Isaac, my brother," I said, my voice light and casual. Too casual.

Isaac's head snapped toward me so fast I thought he might get whiplash.

"You've got a fucking boyfriend?" he blurted out, his eyes bulging in shock.

I blinked.

...Wait.

Did—Did Isaac just swear?

I almost gasped out loud.

Saint Isaac? My angelic, pure, brother?

I squinted at him in disbelief. "Did you just cuss?"

"That's not the point!" he snapped, still looking at me like I'd just announced I was moving to Mars.

I scowled, stepping back to Ace's side and wrapping my arms around his. "Yeah, I have a boyfriend."

Isaac ran a hand down his face before letting out a snicker. "He looks too old for you."

My mouth dropped open.

"Ace is not old!" I shouted, scandalized.

I glanced up at Ace, expecting some kind of reaction—maybe annoyance, maybe amusement—but he just stared at Isaac blankly.

Expressionless.

Unbothered.

Ace rarely showed emotions on his face, and when he did, it was always subtle, almost impossible to read.

One thing I'd noticed? He didn't blink often.

Like, seriously. Sometimes I'd catch myself staring at him just to see when he'd finally blink.

It was kind of unnerving.

Like a tortoise.

Or an owl.

Isaac crossed his arms. "Full name?"

Before Ace could respond, I cut in quickly—perhaps a little too proudly—"Ace Salvatore."

The room fell silent.

Isaac's eyes flicked to Ace's. Ace held his gaze, unmoving.

The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife.

I cleared my throat—loudly. "Sooo.."

"Come inside," Isaac interrupted, his voice suddenly lighter, a small smile on his lips.

...What? That's it?

No more interrogation?

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

Ace, however, didn't move. He leaned down, his breath warm against my ear.

"Mini, work," he whispered, his tone smooth and knowing.

Then—he winked. Dayum...

Before I could process anything, Ace turned and slid into the car, the door shutting with a quiet finality.

Then—he drove away.

Isaac frowned as he watched the car disappear down the street.

"...He left?" he asked, sounding almost offended.

"Um... Yeah, he has a lot of work to do," I mumbled, fumbling with my words.

"What a mannerless boyfriend you have," Isaac clicked his tongue, shaking his head like a disappointed parent.

I huffed loudly, crossing my arms. "He is a busy man."

Isaac snorted. "Too busy to introduce himself properly?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Yes."

Isaac lifted a brow, clearly not buying it, but I wasn't about to explain Ace to him.

For one, I didn't even understand Ace half the time.

And two—Isaac didn't need to know.

"Yeah, yeah," Isaac muttered, waving a dismissive hand.

He nodded toward the door, his expression shifting into something more neutral, more unreadable before motioning for me to follow him inside.

We talked for hours—or, well, I talked.

Isaac listened, asked questions, and told just enough to keep the conversation going.

He explained why he never came back. "I lost my phone, so I lost all my contacts. I couldn't find your address."

Believable.

But something about how he said it felt... Off.

Like he was reading from a script.

His tone was too even, too controlled, as if he'd rehearsed those words over and over in his head before saying them.

But I pushed that thought aside.

I wanted to believe him.

I needed to believe him.

Because if I didn't, that meant Isaac—my second father—was lying to me.

Then, I mentioned Ace.

And that's when Isaac's real interest sparked.

The moment I said his name, Isaac's posture shifted—just slightly, but I noticed it.

His eyes became sharper, his attention too focused.

He asked about Ace a lot—more than any brother should ask about his sister's boyfriend.

At first, the questions seemed normal.

"What does he do?"

"How long have you been dating?"

But then—

"Where did you meet him?"

"What's his last name?"

"Does he have any family?"

"Where does he live?"

Each question was a little too specific, his tone a little too careful.

Like he was fishing for something.

I couldn't put my finger on why, but the whole conversation felt wrong.

So—I lied.

"Oh, Ace? He's a model," I said smoothly, forcing an easy smile.

A safe answer.

Isaac's face didn't change.

He just nodded, accepting it too easily, as if it was exactly what he expected me to say.

And that?

That made my stomach twist.

I also met Delilah, the young woman from earlier.

She was introduced as Isaac's girlfriend.

She was pleasant—polite, even friendly—but there was still something about her that made me feel...

Uneasy.

Maybe it was the way her smile never quite reached her eyes.

Or maybe it was the way she watched me—not in an obvious way, but enough for me to notice.

Like she was assessing me.

Like Isaac was.

Like both of them were.

I tried to ignore it.

I wanted to enjoy being with my brother again, to pretend everything was okay.

But the longer we talked, the more that feeling grew.

Isaac's responses were always perfectly fine on the surface.

But they lacked something—warmth, sincerity, the ease of the brother I once knew.

It was like he was wearing a mask.

Like he was playing the role of the loving brother, but he wasn't really feeling it.

And That scared me.

Isaac had changed.

I didn't know why or how.

But I could feel it—like a knot in my stomach that just wouldn't go away.

Ace POV:

It was 10 at night when I finally arrived back at the house, feeling a rare mix of excitement and irritation.

Today, it was just me and Iris.

The guys were all out having fun—Hudson's words, not mine.

Finally! Their asses had stepped out of my house.

For once, I could get some peace.

No unnecessary noise, no interruptions. No one to ruin the night.

I tossed my keys on the console, stepping into the empty hall, the silence immediately striking me.

Not a single sound.

No soft footsteps. No quiet muttering. No off-key humming from that tiny weird menace.

Where is she?

A sharp, cold sensation coiled in my stomach, and I clenched my jaw, pushing the unwelcome feeling aside.

It was fine.

She was here.

She wouldn't leave.

She wouldn't dare.

Tch.

I forced myself to relax as I strode toward the kitchen, but the only person there was Ares, standing stiffly in front of the CCTV cameras.

At my approach, he inclined his head in a silent greeting.

I waved him off.

He returned to work immediately.

I didn't need to ask if he'd seen her. If something had happened, Ares would have reported it by now.

And if she had left—

I exhaled slowly.

Not possible.

Not. Fucking. Possible.

I turned on my heel, heading toward my bedroom.

I pulled off my coat and tossed it onto the bed, already picturing her curled up in the sheets, waiting for me.

But as I turned, a muffled scream cut through the night.

I froze.

The muscles in my back locked, instincts sharpening in an instant.

Iris.

Without a thought, I strode toward the tall glass, my pace quick, controlled.

My eyes narrowed as I spotted a small, wild-haired figure bolting from the dark stretch of trees.

Running.

Barefoot. Again.

My jaw twitched. Again?

I was going to tie shoes to her damn feet if this kept up.

Glue them on, maybe.

She stumbled slightly before regaining her balance, her movements frantic as she made her way toward the center of the yard.

And then I saw them.

Frogs.

A whole fucking parade of them, hopping behind her like they had some kind of vendetta.

Iris spun around suddenly, gripping something in her tiny fist.

A dandelion?

She pointed a finger at the frogs, her brows furrowing with intense concentration, her lips moving silently—

Was she... talking to them?

I blinked.

What the hell was I looking at?

Iris's expression darkened.

A slow, almost sinister grin spread across her lips as she whispered something to the night.

Weirdo.

And then, as if sensing me, her gaze snapped to the glass doors.

Our eyes met.

And then she smiled.

Wide.

Bright.

As if she had been waiting for me.

My heart did something annoying in my chest.

Tsk. Why would she?

She must be over the moon that she got her stupid, useless brother back.

Her loving older brother.

My ass.

I despise him.

I may not know much about him yet, but—

Tch.

He is a nuisance. For me.

Suddenly, she waved, frantically.

I raised my hand— Stopped mid-air.

What an idiot.

A scowl tugged at my lips as I dropped my hand back down.

She was kneeling on the ground now, her gaze flicking to her now empty hand with the betrayal of a woman who had lost everything.

The hand she had used to wave......Had been holding a dandelion.

Now?

It was nothing but shreds, floating away into the night air, scattered and gone.

Iris's lips parted slightly, her gaze following the last lingering tufts of white.

I could almost hear her tiny heart breaking.

She sat there, motionless.

And then—

She sprang up so fast I barely caught it.

What the hell.

She turned and ran. Again.

Before I could stop myself, I took three quick steps backward, my entire body tensing on instinct.

I turned around and ran.

It was night.

She was barefoot.

The forest was dense and full of thorns, sharp stones, and things that could hurt her.

What if she fell?

What if she—

"Iris," I called, my voice sharp, authoritative.

The weight of my tone cut through the air, commanding.

I took off toward the tree line, my strides long, purposeful.

But before I could step into the forest, I saw her silhouette emerge from the darkness.

She wasn't running anymore.

She walked slowly, cradling something delicately in her hand.

The dandelion.

Tch.

"Don't play here at night," I ordered, my voice firm, clipped.

She didn't even acknowledge me.

Didn't even glance my way.

Her entire focus was still on the dandelion.

Annoyance flickered through my chest.

The frogs.

They were still following her.

I frowned.

So she wasn't afraid of them?

Then why the hell was she running from them earlier?

She walked right past me, her tiny frame brushing against my side before she stopped in the center of the yard.

Then, she nodded.

A small, almost imperceptible motion of her head.

A silent invitation.

I exhaled through my nose, stepping forward until I stood directly in front of her.

She looked up at me.

Her tiny hands lifted, holding the dandelion between her fingers.

And then, in the quietest voice—

"Blow on it," she whispered.

"Tsk." I narrowed my eyes, glancing between her determined expression and the flimsy little weed in her grasp.

She clenched her lower lip between her teeth, sighing in defeat.

I shouldn't care.

I shouldn't–

I exhaled slowly—and blew.

The tiny florets detached immediately, drifting up and away in a soft, weightless dance, carried off by the breeze.

Iris's lips curved slightly.

"Now you'll live a healthy life," she whispered, like it was some divine truth.

I frowned. What?

"What?" I murmured, brows furrowing.

She put her hands on her hips, completely serious.

"Well, I made a wish," she said matter-of-factly. "And you blew on the dandelion."

I stared.

"...And?"

She blinked at me, like I was slow.

"So now it'll come true. Obviously."

A dry scoff left my lips.

"Don't they say if you say your wish out loud, it won't happen?" I pointed out.

She huffed, completely unfazed.

"But I made the wish for you," she emphasized, "so I have to tell you. Otherwise, next time, when you blow on a dandelion, you'll waste your wish."

I blinked at her.

Next time?

I deadpanned. "Yeah, because I have so much free time to run around blowing on some prickly white ball and making wishes."

She giggled.

"Then I'll just give them to you."

I paused.

"...What?"

"Dandelions. Lots of them."

Her eyes sparkled with something softness and mischievous as she clasped her hands together.

"I'll pick so many! You can make so many wishes!"

My muscles loosened, my body betraying me with a faint, unwilling amusement.

I just stared at her.

Her face was bright, animated, twinkling.

She was still talking, her voice rising and falling in excitement.

But my ears felt muffled.

I couldn't hear her.

I could only see.

The way her eyes sparkled in the dim moonlight.

The way her tiny hands gestured animatedly.

A strange, uncomfortable ache twisted in my stomach.

She suddenly turned, still mumbling something to herself as she walked away.

I blinked, exhaling sharply.

Focus!

I clenched my fists, then released them, shoving my hands into my pockets and followed her.

The warmth of the house wrapped around us as we stepped inside, but the silence still lingered, like something unseen was waiting, watching.

Iris walked ahead, humming softly, completely unbothered by the night's events.

I, on the other hand, wasn't.

Her words ringed inside my mind.

As we reached the stairs, a question nagged at me.

"Do you hate frogs?" My voice cut through the quiet. "Back there, you were—"

Before I could finish, she cut me off.

"No. Pfft~ I can grab frogs with my hand," she said, grinning, smug.

I stared. What.

She? This tiny menace? Grabbing frogs?

"Then why the hell—"

She waved a hand, dismissing it like it was nothing.

"It's just... we were racing."

We?

"The frogs and I," she clarified, as if that explained anything.

I narrowed my eyes. Racing.

I opened my mouth to say something—

She gasped dramatically and shivered, adding unnecessary sound effects like a bad horror movie.

"But then I felt like a ghost was chasing me, so I ran out quickly."

Tch.

A ghost.

I rubbed my temple, sighing. "Iris—"

"But then the first dandelion broke because of my stupidity," she continued, pouting. "So I went back again. It was scary."

Scary.

Not because of the dark.

Not because of the forest.

Not because she was alone.

Because she wanted another dandelion.

For me.

Something sharp twisted in my chest, an uncomfortable, suffocating weight pressing against my ribs.

Why?