Morning light slipped through the curtains.
Soft.
Quiet.
Warm.
Izana stirred.
A slow breath.
Then another.
His eyes opened.
The ceiling came into focus.
Familiar.
Still.
Then—
A presence beside him.
He turned his head slightly.
Leah was there.
Already awake.
Sitting close.
Watching him.
Her expression softened the moment their eyes met.
"…You're up," she murmured.
"…Eventually," he replied, voice still low.
A faint smile touched her lips.
"…You sleep more when you're injured."
"…I'll keep that in mind," he said.
"…You should."
A quiet pause settled between them.
Comfortable.
Easy.
He studied her for a moment.
"…You didn't leave."
She tilted her head slightly.
"…Was I supposed to?"
"…No."
"…Good," she said softly.
Her hand moved.
Lightly brushing against his cast.
Careful.
Curious.
"…Does it hurt?"
"A little."
"…That means yes."
"…That means manageable."
She gave him a look.
"…You're not convincing."
"…I'm not trying to."
That earned a small breath from her.
Not quite a laugh.
But close.
Her eyes shifted.
Something on the bedside table caught her attention.
A pen.
Simple.
Harmless.
Or not.
Her gaze lingered.
Then slowly—
She looked back at him.
There was something in her expression now.
Mischief.
Quiet.
Dangerous.
Izana noticed immediately.
"…What are you thinking?"
"…Nothing," she replied.
Too quickly.
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
"…That's not true."
"…Maybe not."
Her fingers reached for the pen.
He watched her.
Didn't stop her.
"…You're going to regret that," he said quietly.
"…Am I?"
She turned the pen between her fingers.
Then—
She leaned closer.
The tip of the pen touched his cast.
A small line.
Then another.
A tiny heart appeared.
Neat.
Precise.
Izana looked down at it.
Then back at her.
"…You're serious."
"…Very."
Another heart.
A small smiley face beside it.
She focused completely.
Careful with every stroke.
"…You're decorating me now," he murmured.
"…Improving," she corrected softly.
A faint breath left him.
Almost a laugh.
"…Of course you are."
More lines.
More shapes.
A small sun.
Then words.
Iz.
Simple.
Right in the center.
His gaze lingered on it.
Something softened.
Just slightly.
"…You wrote my name."
"…I know," she said.
"…Bold of you."
"…I'm not subtle."
"…I've noticed."
She kept going.
Filling the empty space.
Little doodles.
Tiny messages.
Mine.
Don't move.
A small arrow pointing at one of the hearts.
Izana watched all of it.
Quiet.
Amused.
"…You're enjoying this too much."
"…I am," she admitted.
No hesitation.
That made him shake his head slightly.
"…I should've stopped you."
"…You didn't."
"…I didn't."
A pause.
"…That's on you."
"…I know."
His hand moved.
Reaching for the other pen.
Left hand.
Slower.
Less controlled.
He held it awkwardly.
"…This is inconvenient."
Leah looked up.
Then down at his hand.
And smiled.
"…You're struggling."
"…I'm adjusting."
"…You're struggling."
He ignored that.
Brought the pen down.
Tried to draw.
The line wobbled immediately.
Uneven.
Crooked.
Leah watched closely.
Then—
A quiet laugh slipped out.
"…Iz."
"…Don't."
"…What is that?"
He looked at the shape.
Paused.
"…It was supposed to be a circle."
"…It's not."
"…I can see that."
She leaned closer.
Pointing lightly.
"…It looks like it gave up halfway."
"…It did," he replied flatly.
That only made her smile more.
He tried again.
Another shape.
Slightly better.
Still uneven.
Leah shook her head.
"…You're hopeless with your left hand."
"…Temporarily."
"…Sure."
"…You're enjoying this."
"…A lot."
A pause.
"…I can tell."
She added another drawing.
Right next to his attempt.
Perfectly round.
Smooth.
"…There," she said softly. "…That's how it's done."
He glanced between the two.
His.
Then hers.
A faint exhale left him.
"…That's unfair."
"…It's accurate."
"…I'll remember this."
"…You should."
Silence settled again.
Light.
Easy.
Leah's hand moved slowly across the cast.
Adding one last small heart.
Then stopping.
She leaned back slightly.
Looking at her work.
Satisfied.
"…There."
Izana followed her gaze.
The cast was covered now.
Hearts.
Words.
Little drawings.
Messy in some places.
Perfect in others.
"…You've made it impossible to ignore."
"…Good."
"…That was the goal?"
"…Yes."
A quiet pause.
Then he leaned forward slightly.
Careful.
Measured.
His lips pressed gently to her forehead.
Warm.
Soft.
Lingering just a second longer than necessary.
"…You're trouble," he murmured.
Leah didn't move away.
Instead—
She leaned in closer.
And kissed the tip of his nose.
Light.
Quick.
Playful.
"…So are you."
He looked at her.
Really looked at her.
A faint smile forming again.
"…That wasn't fair."
"…Neither was your kiss."
"…Mine was strategic."
"…Mine was better."
"…Debatable."
"…Not really."
She shifted closer.
Resting lightly against his side.
Careful of his arm.
Always careful.
Her hand found his again.
Fingers threading loosely with his.
"…You scared me," she said quietly.
The tone changed.
Softer now.
Real.
Izana's gaze didn't leave her.
"…I know."
"…I didn't like it."
"…I figured."
She tightened her hold slightly.
"…Don't do that again."
A small pause.
"…I'll try not to."
"…Try harder."
"…Alright."
The moment eased again.
Not heavy anymore.
Just honest.
Leah exhaled slowly.
Then looked back at the cast.
"…You're stuck with that now."
"…I noticed."
"…And everything on it."
"…I also noticed."
A faint pause.
"…You don't mind?"
He looked down at it again.
At the hearts.
The words.
Her handwriting.
Every mark she left behind.
Then back at her.
"…No."
Simple.
Certain.
Leah smiled.
Soft.
Genuine.
"…Good."
She leaned in again.
Resting her forehead lightly against his.
Close.
Warm.
Steady.
"…Because I'm not done."
A quiet breath left him.
"…I figured."
They stayed like that.
For a moment.
Maybe longer.
Time didn't feel important.
The room was quiet.
The light gentle.
His arm still.
Her presence steady.
And for once—
Nothing else pressed in.
No tension.
No danger.
Just this.
"…Stay," she whispered.
"…I am."
"…Not like that."
A pause.
Then—
"…I'm not going anywhere."
That was enough.
Leah relaxed slightly against him.
Her hand still holding his.
Her drawings still scattered across the cast.
A quiet claim.
A soft promise.
Something that stayed.
Even when everything else didn't.
And for now—
That was enough.