Accidentally become a father-Chapter 73: Discrepancy

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And it showed.

She didn’t speak again right away.

Her eyes moved.

Not toward me.

Toward the room.

Slower than before.

More detailed.

Like rereading something she had skipped over.

Her steps shifted slightly.

Toward the small table.

She stopped.

Looking at the surface.

No dust.

No stains.

Items neatly arranged.

Remote control.

Empty mug.

Small ashtray.

All perfectly aligned.

Consistent spacing between objects.

Her eyes moved down to the floor.

Clean.

No trash.

No clothes scattered around.

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She turned slightly.

Toward the kitchen.

Her steps were slow.

She didn’t ask for permission this time.

She was already inside.

I didn’t stop her.

There was no need.

She stood in front of the kitchen area.

Looking at the sink.

Dry.

No piled-up dishes.

The stove was clean.

No burnt food scraps.

The small side rack.

Spices arranged.

No clutter.

She opened the refrigerator.

Her movements were smooth.

Quiet.

Inside:

Eggs.

Vegetables.

Water.

A few basic ingredients.

Not much.

But enough.

She closed the fridge.

Gently.

She didn’t turn around immediately.

Remained silent for a few seconds.

Like replaying something in her head.

Then, she finally looked back at me.

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Her gaze changed again.

It wasn’t just observation anymore.

Evaluation.

"...You cook?"

"Yes."

"...Over these past three days?"

"Yes."

She gave a small nod.

Once.

Brief.

Like making a mental note.

"...What did she eat?"

"Porridge."

"...Just that?"

"At first."

I paused for a moment.

Processing the sequence.

"Then normal meals."

She didn’t respond immediately.

Her eyes shifted slightly to the side.

Processing the answer.

"...How many times a day?"

"Three."

"...Fluids?"

"Enough."

She nodded again.

Slower this time.

Deeper.

But her eyebrows didn’t relax.

There was still a slight tension there.

She looked toward the futon again.

Yuna was still asleep.

Position unchanged.

Blanket neat.

Not tangled.

She observed that for a few seconds.

Longer than before.

---

"...Did you adjust the room temperature?"

"Yes."

"...Cold compresses?"

"Yes."

"...Medicine?"

"Yes."

Short answers.

Consistent.

No hesitation.

No doubt.

She fell silent.

For a while.

Her hand gripped her bag slightly tighter.

Not out of nervousness.

More like... holding something back.

"...Did you know the correct dosage?"

"Yes."

"...Based on?"

"The label."

Silence.

She looked at me again.

Longer.

Deeper.

Like trying to find a flaw.

A discrepancy.

Something that didn’t add up.

But nothing surfaced.

All the answers were correct.

All the actions were appropriate.

Too appropriate.

She shifted her gaze.

Toward the floor near me.

Stopped.

---

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

Focused.

There—

No futon.

No sleeping mat.

Just bare floor.

A slight crease from a folded jacket.

And the imprint of my earlier sitting position.

She looked at it for a few seconds.

Longer than anything else.

Then slowly raised her gaze to me again.

Her face remained neutral.

But this time—

Not entirely.

Something slipped through.

Just a little.

---

"...Did you sleep there?"

A direct question.

Sharper than before.

I looked toward that spot on the floor for a moment.

There was nothing to hide.

"Yes."

She didn’t speak right away.

Her lips parted slightly.

Then closed again.

Suppressing a reaction.

Professional.

"...For three days?"

"Yes."

Silence.

Longer than before.

She took a breath.

Deeper this time.

Not entirely stable.

"...Why?"

I thought for a second.

Looking for the simplest answer.

"It’s closer."

She didn’t move.

Her eyes remained on me.

Trying to process that.

"If she wakes up, I’m right there."

I gestured slightly toward the futon.

A small movement.

Enough to explain.

She followed the direction with her eyes.

Looked at Yuna again.

Then back to me.

No words for a few seconds.

"...Did you not feel the need to sleep?"

"No."

"...Eat?"

"I did."

"...When was the last time?"

I paused.

Thinking.

Couldn’t remember exactly.

---

"I don’t know."

She finally reacted.

Very slight.

Her eyebrows went up.

And down again.

Fast.

But this time, it wasn’t completely concealed.

A wider crack.

She averted her gaze.

Slightly to the side.

As if needing a second of distance.

To reconstruct everything.

Healthy child.

Controlled environment.

Proper care.

Guardian—

Outside normal parameters.

"...I understand."

She said it again.

But this time it was clearly different.

The same tone.

The meaning was not.

She didn’t understand yet.

And she was understanding less and less.

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