The room remained quiet.
Not the heavy kind of silence from before—but something softer now. Steady. Calm.
Leah hadn't moved far.
At some point, exhaustion had caught up to her, and she had shifted slightly, resting her head against the edge of the bed, her arm still draped lightly across Izana as if she refused to let even sleep take her too far away.
The bowl of water sat nearby, the cloth folded over its edge.
The air had cooled.
Time had passed.
—
Izana stirred.
It was subtle at first—a faint shift beneath the blankets, a slow pull of breath that was deeper than before.
Then again.
His brows furrowed slightly as consciousness returned in fragments, dragging him back from the haze of fever and exhaustion.
His eyes opened.
Slowly.
The light felt different.
Softer.
Dimmer.
Later.
For a moment, his vision blurred, unfocused.
Then it steadied.
And the first thing he noticed—
Was her.
Leah.
Still there.
Right beside him.
Her head resting near his arm, her hand loosely curled against him like she had fallen asleep mid-watch.
Izana didn't move right away.
Didn't speak.
He just… looked at her.
Quietly.
Taking it in.
The way she hadn't left.
The way she stayed.
Even when he hadn't asked again.
His gaze softened, something unspoken settling behind his eyes as he watched her for a few seconds longer.
Then—
"…You're still here."
His voice was rough.
Low.
But clearer than before.
Leah stirred almost instantly.
Like she had been waiting for that exact moment.
Her head lifted slightly, her eyes blinking open as she adjusted to the light—and then immediately locking onto him.
"Iz…?"
Relief flickered across her face as she straightened.
"You're awake."
She moved closer without hesitation, her hand brushing gently against his forehead.
Still warm.
But not as bad.
"You're still here," he repeated quietly, watching her.
Leah met his gaze, her expression softening.
"I told you I would be."
There was no hesitation in her voice.
No doubt.
Just certainty.
Something in his expression eased further.
A quiet acceptance.
Leah exhaled softly, shifting slightly as she reached for the glass of water again.
"Sit up a little," she murmured, already moving to support him.
Izana didn't argue this time.
Didn't resist.
He allowed her to guide him carefully, her arm steady behind his back as she helped him sit up just enough.
Even that small movement seemed to take effort.
His breathing deepened slightly, but he didn't pull away.
Didn't push her off.
Leah noticed.
Of course she did.
"Slowly," she said, bringing the glass to his lips again.
He drank.
A little more this time.
Still not much.
But better.
She pulled it away after a moment.
"That's enough."
He didn't protest.
Didn't insist.
Just leaned back slightly as she adjusted the pillows behind him, making sure he was properly supported before settling him again.
"Don't move," she added, her tone gentle—but firm.
A faint flicker of something almost like amusement passed through his gaze.
"…You're strict."
Leah raised an eyebrow slightly.
"You're worse."
The corner of his lips shifted—just slightly.
Not quite a smile.
But close.
—
A knock broke the quiet.
Soft.
Measured.
Leah's gaze flicked toward the door immediately, her expression sharpening just slightly.
Izana's didn't change much—but there was a subtle shift in his posture.
Awareness.
"Come in," he said, his voice still rough but steady enough.
The door opened slowly.
Dante stepped inside, his presence calm and controlled as always—but his eyes immediately took in the scene.
Izana in bed.
Pale.
Weakened.
Leah beside him.
Close.
Watching him.
It didn't go unnoticed.
"…You're unwell," Dante stated simply.
"I'm fine," Izana replied without missing a beat.
Leah didn't even look at Dante.
"He's not."
The response was immediate.
Firm.
Unapologetic.
For a brief second—
Dante said nothing.
His gaze shifted between them, taking in the dynamic, the quiet authority in Leah's voice, the lack of resistance from Izana.
Then he nodded once.
"…Understood."
He stepped further into the room, his tone shifting slightly into business.
"There have been no further issues. The remaining matters have been handled."
Izana listened.
Or at least—
He tried to.
But it was clear the effort cost him more than usual. His focus wavered slightly, his breathing uneven for a moment before he steadied it again.
Leah noticed immediately.
Her gaze sharpened.
"That can wait."
Dante paused.
Izana glanced at her.
Leah didn't look away.
"You're not dealing with anything right now," she added, quieter—but no less firm.
Silence lingered for a second.
Then—
"…We'll discuss it later," Izana said, his tone calm, but without argument.
Dante inclined his head slightly.
"As you wish."
But before he turned to leave, his gaze lingered just briefly.
Not on Izana.
On Leah.
Then back again.
Something unspoken passed through that look.
Acknowledgment.
Understanding.
A quiet recognition of change.
Then he left.
The door closed softly behind him.
—
The room fell quiet again.
Leah exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing just slightly as she turned back to Izana.
"You shouldn't even be listening to that right now," she muttered, adjusting the blanket lightly over him.
Izana watched her.
Quietly.
His gaze softer now.
Less guarded.
Leah brushed her fingers lightly through his hair again, checking his temperature without even thinking about it anymore.
Still warm.
But better.
She sat down beside him again, closer this time.
Her hand resting lightly against his arm.
For a moment—
Neither of them spoke.
Then—
"…What are you thinking about?"
His voice was quieter now.
Curious.
Leah blinked slightly, pulled from her thoughts.
"…You," she admitted.
His brow lifted faintly.
"…Like this."
A pause.
"…Like what?"
Leah hesitated for just a second.
Then her gaze softened.
"Gentle."
The word settled between them.
Izana didn't respond right away.
Didn't look away either.
Leah's fingers shifted slightly against his arm.
"…You'd be a good father."
The words came quietly.
Almost like she hadn't meant to say them out loud.
But once they were there—
She didn't take them back.
Silence followed.
Longer this time.
Izana's gaze lowered slightly, something unreadable passing through his expression.
Then—
"…Only with you."
The response was soft.
Simple.
But it carried more weight than anything else he could have said.
Leah's breath caught slightly.
Her expression softened even more, something warm settling in her chest as she looked at him.
Neither of them spoke after that.
They didn't need to.
Leah shifted slightly closer, her hand still resting against him, her presence steady.
Unmoving.
Certain.
And this time—
As the quiet settled around them again—
There was no distance left between them.
No uncertainty.
No hesitation.
Because he didn't need to ask her to stay.
And she didn't need to say it again.
She was already there.