Ignis doesn't seem convinced of my sincerity, but he accepts to sleep in my bed. He's absent-minded and pale, but he does his best to hide his worries.
He's still thinking that our son doesn't like him, which can't be other than false. However, how could Lars start loving him if he's not around at any time?
«I don't want to be unhappy for the rest of my life because of miscommunication,» I say. «Tell me what the matter is, and I'll do my best to atone. What have I done to make you doubt me so much? To make you dislike our son, Ignis! Are you perhaps doubting he's yours, now? Is that the matter? All these intrigues are making you dumb!»
I haven't ever looked longer than appropriate at any man other than him. Why is he like this?
«It's not about you. It's about me...»
He lies down and settles under the blanket with the same expression of a man who's doing it out of duty.
