The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts

"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.

It wasn't even a full snore. It was like… like a soft baby hiccup wrapped in a sigh, followed by a faint whistle. So light it could've been mistaken for the wind through the leaves if you didn't know better.

But Luca did know better. And instead of doing what a normal person would do—leave—he crouched there.

Watching her.

Like a creep.

And every few seconds, she'd snuffle, scrunch her little pink nose, and let out a sleepy hum that made his heart melt into goo.

"I mean, what was I supposed to do?" he muttered, more to himself than Isabella. "She sounded like a sleepy flute."

Isabella didn't say a word.

Not a single blink.

Just stood there with her arms folded across her chest, her weight tilted to one side, her head slightly cocked like she was preparing his eulogy in her mind.

The silence stretched longer than Luca's attention span.

And under the force of it, he started to question every life decision that had led him here. Why did I come back? Why didn't I run into the woods? Am I sweating badly again?

Desperate for oxygen, he cleared his throat too loudly—like someone pretending they weren't choking on their own shame.

"I'll—uh—I'll go distribute the shampoo," he said, voice pitching upward like he wasn't sure if it was a suggestion or a wish.

And then he spun on his heel so fast, he nearly tripped over a stick that absolutely wasn't there a second ago.

"Tell them to come here instead," Isabella's voice rang out behind him—low and calm, but sharp enough to slice through any attempt at escape. "I have something to tell them."

Luca froze mid-step like someone had yanked his puppet strings.

"Ah. Yes. Right. Definitely. Of course," he said too quickly, nodding too much, his whole body moving like a marionette that had seen the face of death.

And with the awkward energy of a man who just got caught whispering to a snoring creature, he bolted like the floor behind him was set to explode.

Once he was gone, Isabella looked down at Glimora, who was still happily nestled in her arms, little limbs curled in like a spoiled princess. Her white fur gleamed in the light and her nose wiggled with excitement, like she knew she was about to be doted on.

"Oh yes, you're so cute, aren't you," Isabella cooed, her entire face softening. She rubbed her nose against Glimora's like they were sharing ancient secrets only fluffy creatures and emotionally constipated girls could understand. "You woke up just to cause chaos, huh? Is that it?"

Glimora responded with a giggle-snort that sounded like a squeaky hiccup, her tiny mouth curved into a grin that made her look like a troublemaker caught mid-crime.

"Who's the prettiest little snoring beast?" Isabella asked in a baby voice, now gently bouncing her. "You are. Yes, you are. You snore like a little bug stuck in a teacup and that's okay because you're adorable."

Glimora let out a high-pitched squeal and wiggled so much Isabella had to reposition her.

"Okay, okay! Chill, miss chaos, you'll twist my wrist again," Isabella said through a laugh. "You really are a menace. A cute, fluffy menace with no sense of personal space."

She poked Glimora's puffed-up cheek, watching her squint and giggle again, and she chuckled. The kind of chuckle that made her shoulders loosen. The kind that peeled stress off like bark from a sun-warmed tree.

She was so caught up in baby talking and tickling her that she completely forgot someone was still there.

Someone tall.

Someone quiet.

Someone who, at that very moment, was staring at her with the most unreadable expression possible.

Kian.

She didn't notice.

Not until the weight of his stare suddenly crawled across her neck like a ghost dragging its fingers over her skin. Her giggles died down. Her spine straightened. And slowly—slowly—her head turned.

And met his eyes.

Oh no.

The way he was looking at her…

Like he was watching a foreign creature.

Not in a bad way.

Not even cold.

Just… conflicted.

Silent. Intense. Like the sight of her laughing like that, soft like that, with a snoring mythical creature pressed to her chest, had done something to him he didn't quite understand.

Isabella blinked. Her smile faltered.

"…I'm done," Kian said quietly, voice as calm as always, but something in it hit her hard.

And just like that—BOOM.

Isabella felt like she had been caught mid-dance with a carrot on her head. Total embarrassment.

"Oh. Ah. Thank you," she said quickly, clearing her throat and shifting Glimora to one arm as if that would somehow erase the baby voice and the three full minutes she'd spent pretending to be a mothering goose.

Kian didn't say anything.

He didn't need to.

His gaze had already branded her soul with silent judgment.

Which only made her fluster more.

"I'll go feed her now. She seems hungry," Isabella mumbled, already halfway to turning away. "You can head back if you want."

She tried to walk off with dignity, chin raised, pace calm—but inside, she was screaming.

And then—

"I want to have some fruits too."

That one line stopped her mid-step like she'd walked into a wall.

She turned slowly. "Huh?"

Kian stood still. Completely unmoved by her horror. No smile. No glint. Just that neutral, composed expression like he hadn't just casually requested to join a picnic with her and her fluffy daughter.

Her brain: Fruits?? Now? With me?

Her heart: He wants to—what—the—he wants to sit and eat with me? Like a normal person??

Glimora, on the other hand, had no such internal conflict.

She immediately frowned. A very loud, very visible pout formed on her tiny face. Her little arms folded, and she pressed her cheek against Isabella's collarbone as if to say Mine. He can starve.

Isabella blinked.

Bit her lip.

Looked from Kian to Glimora and back again.

And tried—tried—to play it cool.