"What?" Michael asked, squinting.
I couldn't see any clues in Michael's expression. I only felt his anxiety and uneasiness hitting my heart even more violently. I blurted, "Is the thing you're busy with related to General Lovecraft?"
Michael's pupils contracted. I stared at his face and looked into his eyes.
Then, Michael slowly said, "No, it's not related to him."
I looked at him with suspicion. There was nothing wrong with Michael's performance, but a voice in my heart told me not to believe what he said.
I didn't know why I had such an idea. I had never doubted my mate before, but now I couldn't ignore my inner voice. I believed I might be neurotic.
"Really? You're not lying to me, Michael?" I asked with a dry throat.
I knew how cold my voice was.
No, it shouldn't be like this. I wanted a good chat with Michael, not in such a nervous and awkward atmosphere.
