The atmosphere in the carriage became exceptionally awkward, and we all remained silent.
In the quiet space, only the steady breathing of our son could be heard, sleeping soundly in his father's arms.
Over half an hour later, the car arrived downstairs at Grace Chandler's place.
I got out of the car, ready to take over the child, but Daniel refused, saying softly, "Too heavy, I'll carry him upstairs."
"Ah? No need, I can do it myself." I instinctively refused.
In broad daylight, Grace Chandler must have gone to work at the company.
If he comes upstairs with me, and the child is asleep, it would just be the two of us alone.
Thinking of the ambiguous moments just now, I have a strange feeling, somehow sensing he might do something to me.
It's not that I'm being dramatic, but I truly haven't figured out our future, and don't want impulse and desire to take over, leading everything into chaos.
