The morning sun spilled across the breakfast table.
Leah sipped her tea, watching Izana quietly read over some papers.
The hum of the city drifted faintly through the open window.
"…Iz?"
He looked up, his expression calm, unreadable.
"Yes?"
She hesitated, then went for it.
"…Would it be okay if I went to the mall later today?"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"No," he said immediately.
Leah blinked.
"Just… why?" she asked, keeping her voice soft.
He leaned back, gaze steady.
"I cannot guarantee your safety," he said simply.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her cup.
"…I'll be careful," she said quickly, leaning forward. "I promise. I know you're worried, but I'll be careful."
He studied her for a long moment.
Long enough that her stomach fluttered nervously.
Finally, he nodded slowly.
"…Bring Dante with you," he said.
Her eyes widened.
"You'd let me go… with Dante?"
"Yes," he replied, calm as always.
"I have a meeting," he explained, "I can't go with you. But Dante… he'll watch over you. Keep you safe."
Her lips curved into a small, relieved smile.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He leaned forward, brushing his hand lightly against hers.
Then, just for a moment, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
"Be careful," he murmured.
"I will," she said, smiling faintly.
A few hours later, Izana had left for his meeting.
The mansion was quieter, though the faint hum of the city outside reminded her it wasn't empty.
She stepped out, and her eyes immediately found Dante waiting by the car.
He stood casually, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the car door open.
"Morning, Leah," he said, voice laced with his usual teasing tone.
"Morning," she replied, smiling.
"You ready for trouble?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
She laughed softly.
"Only if you drive safely," she said.
Dante smirked.
"Always. Izana would kill me if something happened," he said.
"Exactly why I don't want to go alone," she replied.
He chuckled, opening the passenger door.
"After you," he said.
She slid inside and buckled her seatbelt.
"You've been with him a long time," she said quietly as Dante started the engine.
He nodded.
"Since I was eighteen. He was nine. I've seen him do… a lot. Not all of it pretty. Not all of it easy."
Her fingers drummed lightly against her lap.
"I know he's… complicated," she said softly.
"You're understating it," Dante replied, smirking faintly.
She laughed quietly.
"But I love him," she said simply.
Dante glanced at her, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"You've got guts, Leah," he said.
She shook her head, smiling.
"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just stubborn."
The car moved through the busy city streets.
Leah watched the sunlight glint off the buildings, her mind drifting.
She hesitated, then asked, "Dante… do you know what Izana likes? For Christmas?"
He glanced at her.
"Why? Planning a gift?"
She nodded.
"I… I want to. But he never says what he likes or doesn't like. I don't even know where to start."
Dante's smirk softened.
"Izana's never had the easiest life," he said quietly.
Leah looked at him, listening carefully.
"Everything he's learned, everything he's built… it's because he had to. He's careful with what he allows himself to want. With who he lets close. You… you're special. You've seen him differently than anyone else."
Her stomach fluttered.
"So… gifts?" she prompted gently.
Dante chuckled softly.
"Forget expensive. Forget flashy. He's not about that. Something small. Something meaningful. Something that shows you see him. That you notice him. That you care. That's all that matters."
Leah let out a soft breath, considering his words.
"Okay," she said quietly. "Simple and meaningful. I can do that."
Dante grinned faintly.
"Don't overthink it. You've already got him wrapped around your finger, Leah."
She laughed softly, shaking her head.
"Not quite yet," she said.
"Maybe not yet," he replied, smirking.
They drove in silence for a few moments, the city passing in a blur.
Leah's mind wandered to Izana—the way he had pressed a kiss to her forehead that morning, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, the faint mysterious smile she sometimes caught.
He was… impossible.
But she loved him anyway.
And she wanted this gift to matter.
More than the material, more than the paper and ribbon—she wanted it to speak to him.
To the real Izana.
Dante glanced at her.
"You thinking too hard, Leah?" he asked, voice teasing.
She laughed quietly.
"Maybe a little," she admitted.
"You're overcomplicating it," he said. "Simple. Meaningful. That's all."
"I know," she murmured.
"But what does that even mean?"
Dante shrugged.
"Something small that shows you notice him. Something personal. Something he'll keep. Or use. Or… think of you when he sees it."
Leah nodded slowly.
"That… that makes sense," she said quietly.
Dante smirked again.
"You'll figure it out. You always do."
She smiled faintly.
"You're just trying to make me panic," she said.
"Maybe a little," he admitted. "But mostly, I just want to make sure you don't get lost in the crowd."
The mall appeared ahead, bustling with shoppers.
Leah took a deep breath, adjusting her coat.
"Here goes nothing," she whispered.
Dante opened the door for her.
"Remember," he said, voice serious but warm, "simple, meaningful. Don't overdo it. And stay safe."
"I will," she said firmly.
He gave a small nod.
"I'll wait in the car," he said.
She nodded again.
Then she turned toward the entrance, stepping into the chaos of holiday shoppers.
Lights twinkled. Music played faintly in the background.
Smells of cinnamon and roasted nuts filled the air.
Her mind wandered again to Izana.
To the rare moments when he showed warmth.
The morning's kiss.
The way he watched her decorate the tree.
The way he held her.
She wanted this gift to reflect that.
To reflect him.
To reflect them.
Dante leaned back in the car, watching the mall entrance.
"She's going to do fine," he murmured quietly.
He knew Izana.
He knew Leah.
And he knew this was more than a simple Christmas gift.
It was a message.
A message of love. Of understanding. Of the life they were slowly building together.
Even in the chaos of his world.
Even with enemies lurking.
Even with the weight of the Grimshaw name.
It was theirs.
And Dante smiled faintly, knowing Leah understood that in her own way.