They had shifted topics now, their lunch containers nearly empty, the conversation winding into something quieter—less confrontational.
Damien leaned back, about to respond—when he paused.
His gaze drifted to the far side of the window. A sudden shift in expression. That lazy smirk softened into something smaller, quieter. Real.
A smile.
Isabelle caught it immediately. Her brows knit slightly. "What?"
"Nothing," he said, still staring out the window.
"You smiled."
"I do that sometimes."
She tilted her head, following his gaze—just rooftops and tree branches swaying in the wind. No students. No birds. Nothing unusual.
"…What did you see?"
"Something nice."
She narrowed her eyes. "Liar."
Damien turned back to her with a faint grin. "Just because you didn't see it doesn't mean I'm lying."
Isabelle held his gaze for a moment longer, then huffed. "You're insufferable."
"And yet," he said, gesturing to the empty seat beside her, "here I am. Still invited to lunch."
