A week passed.
The mansion felt… different.
Not louder.
Not busier.
Just—
Tighter.
Footsteps echoed more than they used to.
Guards stood where there hadn't been guards before.
Doors stayed closed longer.
Checked twice.
Sometimes three times.
Leah noticed everything.
Of course she did.
Izana was out of bed now.
Not fully recovered.
But moving.
Walking.
Working.
Too much.
Leah stepped into the room quietly.
Paused.
Watched.
He was seated near the window.
Phone in one hand.
Documents spread out beside him.
His cast rested against the arm of the chair.
Unbothered.
Focused.
"…Iz."
No response.
"…Iz."
Still nothing.
She stepped closer.
"…Izana."
That got his attention.
His gaze lifted slightly.
"…You're ignoring me."
"…I was listening."
"…You weren't."
"…I was thinking."
"…That's not the same thing."
A pause.
Then—
"…What do you need?"
She crossed her arms slightly.
"…You're working."
"…Yes."
"…You're not supposed to."
"…I am."
"…You're not."
"…Li—."
"No."
Simple.
Firm.
He stopped.
Just for a second.
She stepped closer.
Reached down.
Took the papers from his hand.
Set them aside.
"…You're still healing."
"…I'm fine."
"…You're not."
A pause.
"…It's been a week."
"…And your arm is still in a cast."
"…Temporary."
"…Exactly."
Another pause.
Longer.
Then—
He leaned back slightly.
Exhaled.
"…You're not going to let this go."
"…No."
"…I figured."
She softened slightly.
Just a little.
"…You can work later."
"…Later?"
"…Yes."
"…Define later."
"…After you rest."
"…That's vague."
"…That's intentional."
A faint shift in his expression.
Almost a smile.
Almost.
She sat beside him.
Close.
Her hand resting lightly on his.
"…You've been pushing yourself all week."
"…I've been careful."
"…You've been stubborn."
"…That too."
A small breath escaped her.
Half frustration.
Half relief.
"…The mansion feels different," she murmured.
His gaze shifted slightly.
"…It is."
"…I don't like it."
"…You shouldn't."
"…That's not comforting."
"…It's not meant to be."
She looked at him.
Studied him.
"…You already know something."
A pause.
Then—
"…We're handling it."
"…That's not an answer."
"…It's the one you're getting."
Her lips pressed together slightly.
"…Iz."
"…Li."
Silence.
Not tense.
But not easy either.
She exhaled slowly.
Then leaned into him slightly.
Careful of his arm.
"…Just…don't do everything alone."
A pause.
"…I don't."
"…You try to."
"…Sometimes."
"…Too often."
He didn't argue.
Didn't need to.
Time passed.
Quiet.
Still.
Leah pulled away after a moment.
Standing slowly.
"…Where are you going?"
"…I'll be back."
"…That's not an answer."
She gave him a small look.
"…You're not the only one allowed to be vague."
A faint breath left him.
"…Fair."
The hallway was quieter than usual.
Leah walked slowly.
Her steps soft.
Measured.
Her eyes moved.
Every corner.
Every shadow.
Nothing out of place.
And yet—
Something felt off.
She reached the nursery.
The door slightly open.
She paused.
Then pushed it gently.
It creaked.
Soft.
The room was still unfinished.
Quiet.
Empty.
But not empty.
Not to her.
She stepped inside.
Slowly.
Her hand brushed along the wall.
Familiar.
Grounding.
She moved toward the window.
Light spilling in.
Soft.
Warm.
Her hand rested against her stomach.
A quiet breath left her.
"…It's going to be okay," she whispered.
To herself.
To everything.
Then—
A feeling.
Subtle.
Sharp.
Like something shifted behind her.
Leah froze.
Just for a second.
Her gaze moved.
The corners.
The doorway.
Nothing.
Empty.
Still.
But the feeling didn't leave.
Her fingers curled slightly.
"…You're imagining it," she murmured.
A quiet step back.
Then another.
Still watching.
Still listening.
Silence answered her.
"…Leah."
She turned quickly.
Izana stood in the doorway.
Watching her.
Calm.
Sharp.
Always sharp.
"…You followed me."
"…You left."
"…That doesn't mean you follow me."
"…It does today."
A pause.
She looked at him.
Really looked.
"…You shouldn't be walking this much."
"…You shouldn't be alone right now."
That stopped her.
Just for a second.
"…I'm not alone."
"…You were."
"…I was fine."
"…That's not the point."
He stepped inside.
Slow.
Controlled.
His gaze moved across the room.
Assessing.
Always assessing.
"…Why here?"
Leah looked around.
Then back at him.
"…It's quiet."
"…So is the rest of the house."
"…Not like this."
A pause.
"…This feels different."
His gaze lingered on her.
"…You felt it too."
Not a question.
A statement.
Leah didn't answer immediately.
Then—
"…For a second."
"…What kind of second?"
"…The kind I didn't like."
Silence settled.
He stepped closer.
Not rushed.
Never rushed.
Her shoulders relaxed slightly.
Just having him there.
"…You came anyway," she murmured.
"…Of course I did."
"…Even though you're injured."
"…That doesn't change anything."
"…It should."
"…It doesn't."
A pause.
Then—
She smiled faintly.
"…You're stubborn."
"…You've mentioned that."
"…I'll mention it again."
"…I'm sure you will."
She stepped closer.
Careful.
Her hand resting lightly against his chest.
"…You shouldn't overdo it."
"…Neither should you."
"…I wasn't."
"…You were alone."
"…For a minute."
"…That's enough."
A pause.
Then—
She leaned in slightly.
Resting her forehead against him.
"…You worry too much."
"…Not enough."
"…That doesn't even make sense."
"…It does to me."
Silence softened again.
Warmer now.
Safer.
For the moment.
Leah pulled back slightly.
Looking up at him.
"…You came to find me."
"…Yes."
"…Because you thought something was wrong."
A pause.
"…I don't ignore instincts."
"…Neither do I."
Another pause.
"…Then why did you stay?"
She glanced around the room.
"…Because I didn't want to run from it."
His gaze didn't waver.
"…You don't have to face everything alone."
"…I know."
"…Then don't."
She smiled softly.
"…Okay."
Simple.
Honest.
They stood there for a moment.
Quiet.
Still.
Together.
Then—
A faint sound.
Somewhere in the distance.
Subtle.
Almost nothing.
But enough.
Izana's gaze shifted immediately.
Sharp.
Focused.
Leah felt it too.
That same feeling.
Back again.
Stronger this time.
"…You heard that," she whispered.
"…Yes."
Silence.
Heavy now.
Not soft anymore.
Not safe.
His posture shifted slightly.
Protective.
Instinctive.
Even injured.
It didn't matter.
Leah's fingers tightened slightly against his shirt.
"…Something's not right."
"…I know."
The quiet returned.
But it wasn't empty anymore.
It was watching.
Waiting.
Closer than before.
And this time—
They both felt it.