Morning came quietly.
Soft light filtered through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the room. For a moment, everything felt still—calm in a way that almost made the night before feel distant.
Leah stirred slightly, her body still heavy with sleep.
Warm.
Comfortable.
She shifted a little, instinctively turning toward the presence beside her.
Izana.
He was there.
Close.
Just like she had wanted.
For a brief second, she relaxed into it.
Then something felt… wrong.
Her brows furrowed slightly as her eyes slowly opened. The first thing she noticed was how still he was.
Too still.
Her gaze lifted to his face.
And her breath caught.
He looked pale.
Not just tired—pale.
His lips slightly parted, his breathing heavier than it should have been, uneven in a way that made her chest tighten instantly.
"…Iz?"
Her voice was soft at first, still thick with sleep.
No response.
Leah pushed herself up onto her elbow, her eyes scanning him more carefully now.
His body trembled slightly beneath the covers.
Shivering.
Even though he was wrapped in warmth.
Something wasn't right.
"Iz…"
She reached out, placing her hand gently on his shoulder, giving him a small shake.
Still nothing.
Her heart began to race.
"Izana, wake up…"
Her voice came out more urgent this time, her hand moving to his cheek, then his neck—
And the moment her fingers brushed his skin, she froze.
"…You're burning."
Heat radiated off him.
Too much.
Far too much.
Her breath hitched.
A fever.
The realization hit instantly—and just as quickly, the reason followed.
The floor.
Last night.
He had stayed there.
Outside the door.
Because of her.
Leah's hand trembled slightly as she brushed it back over his forehead, confirming it.
"Idiot…" she whispered, but there was no anger in it. Only worry. Only guilt.
Izana stirred faintly beneath her touch, his brows pulling together as a quiet sound left him.
"…Li…"
Barely there.
Unfocused.
Her chest tightened painfully.
"I'm here," she said quickly, leaning closer. "I'm right here."
But he didn't wake.
Didn't open his eyes again.
He was too weak.
Leah swallowed, forcing herself to steady.
Panicking wouldn't help.
She had to act.
Quickly.
"Okay… okay…"
Her hands moved to the edge of the blanket, pulling it back from him.
The moment the cool air touched his skin, his body reacted immediately.
A sharper shiver ran through him, his muscles tensing weakly.
Leah paused, guilt flickering again.
"I know," she murmured softly. "I know, it's cold…"
But she didn't stop.
She couldn't.
His fever was too high.
Her hands moved to his shirt next, fingers gripping the fabric as she tried to pull it up.
"…Come on…"
It didn't budge easily.
Of course it didn't.
Izana was much bigger than her, his body heavy and unresponsive as she tried to lift him slightly.
She shifted her position, bracing one knee against the mattress as she tried again—this time managing to lift him just enough to drag the fabric up his torso.
"You're not making this easy…" she muttered under her breath, her voice breathless with effort.
Still, she didn't stop.
Slowly, with effort, she worked the shirt off him, tugging it free and tossing it aside once she finally managed.
Her breath came out uneven as she looked at him.
His skin was flushed now, heat radiating off him even more clearly without the barrier of fabric.
"…Iz…"
For a second, she just looked at him.
Taking in how vulnerable he looked.
How unlike himself.
Then she shook it off.
Focus.
She needed to cool him down.
"This isn't enough…"
The thought came quickly, sharp and clear.
Leah pushed herself off the bed, moving quickly toward the bathroom.
Her steps were hurried, her mind already racing ahead as she grabbed a bowl, turning on the tap and filling it with cool water.
Not too cold.
Just enough.
Her hands shook slightly as she grabbed a cloth, dipping it into the water and wringing it out.
A small splash hit the counter.
She didn't care.
She turned immediately, heading back.
Her eyes flicked to the bed the moment she re-entered the room.
He was still there.
Still breathing.
Still shivering.
"Okay… I'm here…"
She set the bowl down beside the bed and quickly dipped the cloth again, wringing it out before placing it gently against his forehead.
Izana reacted faintly.
A small shift.
A breath.
Leah exhaled softly.
"…I know."
Her voice dropped, softer now.
Gentler.
She dipped the cloth again, then began carefully wiping his neck, her movements slow and deliberate.
Down to his shoulders.
Across his chest.
His skin was still too hot.
Too warm against the cool cloth.
But she kept going.
Steady.
Consistent.
Her hand moved without hesitation now, even as it passed over the long scar along his side.
This time, she didn't pause.
Didn't look away.
She simply wiped over it gently, carefully.
Like it was just another part of him.
Because now—
It was.
"You really stayed out there all night…" she murmured quietly, more to herself than to him.
Her hand moved back to the bowl, dipping the cloth again.
"…You're impossible."
There was a softness to her voice.
A quiet affection beneath the worry.
Izana shifted slightly beneath her touch, another faint sound leaving him.
"…Li…"
Her heart clenched.
"I'm here," she whispered again, leaning closer, one hand resting lightly against his chest as if to ground him.
"You're not alone."
She placed the cloth back on his forehead, adjusting it carefully.
Then again.
And again.
The motion became steady.
Rhythmic.
Dip.
Wring.
Place.
Wipe.
Repeat.
Time passed quietly like that.
Leah didn't leave.
Didn't move far.
One hand always stayed on him—his arm, his chest, his shoulder—just to feel that he was still there.
Still breathing.
Still with her.
Her gaze softened slightly as she watched him.
"…You don't get to do this again," she murmured under her breath.
Her fingers brushed lightly through his hair, pushing damp strands away from his face.
"You don't get to scare me like that."
Her voice wavered just slightly.
But she steadied it.
"You stayed… even after everything…"
Her hand rested lightly against his cheek.
Warm.
Too warm.
"…So you're not allowed to get worse."
The room fell quiet again.
Just the sound of his breathing.
Just the soft movement of water in the bowl.
Just her—
Staying.
Right there beside him.
Not leaving.
Not this time.