The mansion was quiet.
Not tense.
Not sharp.
Just… quiet.
Days had passed.
Nothing happened.
No alerts.
No strange movement.
No updates that mattered.
At first, no one trusted it.
Every sound still meant something.
Every silence felt like it was hiding something else.
But then—
Nothing followed.
No second wave.
No delayed attack.
No sign of him.
The tension didn't disappear.
It loosened.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Leah noticed it first.
Of course she did.
The guards were still there.
But they didn't stand as rigid.
Their hands weren't always near their weapons.
Their eyes didn't follow every step.
The staff moved more freely.
Voices returned to the halls.
Soft at first.
Then normal.
Doors weren't checked twice.
Or three times.
Just once.
Like before.
The mansion felt like a home again.
Not a place under watch.
Leah walked down the hallway.
Barefoot.
Unhurried.
Her steps didn't pause at corners.
She didn't hesitate before turning.
Didn't listen for something that wasn't there.
She didn't look over her shoulder.
Not once.
That alone felt different.
She slowed near the large window.
Sunlight spilled across the floor.
Warm.
Soft.
Real.
Her fingers brushed lightly against the glass.
A quiet breath left her.
"…It's quiet."
Soft.
Almost to herself.
"…It is."
Izana's voice behind her.
Steady.
Calm.
She turned slightly.
He stood a few steps away.
Watching her.
His posture had changed.
Subtly.
Less tension in his shoulders.
Less sharpness in the way he stood.
Still controlled.
Always controlled.
But not on edge.
His arm remained in a cast.
White.
Marked.
Covered in ink.
Her drawings still there.
Unfaded.
Untouched.
"…You're walking more," she noted.
"…I've been cleared to."
"…That doesn't mean you should overdo it."
"…I'm not."
A pause.
She gave him a look.
"…You are."
A faint shift in his expression.
Almost amused.
"…A little."
"…Iz."
"…I'm careful."
"…You always say that."
"…And I mean it."
She exhaled softly.
But there was no frustration behind it this time.
Just habit.
She stepped closer.
Her hand reaching for his arm.
Light touch.
Careful.
Her fingers brushed along the edge of the cast.
Avoiding pressure.
Gentle.
"…Does it still hurt?"
"…Less."
"…That's not a real answer."
"…It's an improvement."
"…I'll take it."
Her hand lingered for a second longer.
Then dropped.
Silence settled.
But it didn't feel heavy.
Didn't press in.
Didn't wait for something to break it.
It just existed.
"…Dante said there's nothing," she murmured.
"…Nothing at all."
Izana didn't answer immediately.
His gaze shifted slightly.
Thinking.
Then back to her.
"…Yes."
"…So it's over."
The words came slowly.
Carefully.
Like she was testing them.
A pause.
Then—
"…It seems that way."
That was enough.
Her shoulders eased fully.
The last bit of tension slipping away.
"…Good," she said quietly.
She meant it.
A small silence followed.
Then—
"…Come sit," she added.
Gesturing toward the sitting area.
He followed without question.
They settled on the couch.
Close.
Comfortable.
Leah shifted slightly.
Turning toward him.
Her attention already back on his arm.
"…Let me see."
"…You've seen it."
"…Let me see it again."
A faint pause.
Then he adjusted.
Letting her take his arm more easily.
Her fingers traced lightly along the cast.
Slow.
Careful.
"…You've been using it," she murmured.
"…A little."
"…You're not supposed to."
"…I'm adapting."
"…You're stubborn."
"…You've mentioned that."
"…I'll keep mentioning it."
"…I don't doubt that."
A small smile tugged at her lips.
She leaned back slightly.
Still close.
Her shoulder brushing his.
"…It's strange," she murmured.
"…What is?"
"…Not feeling like something's about to happen."
A pause.
Then—
"…You got used to it."
"…I didn't want to."
"…No one does."
She tilted her head slightly.
Studying him.
"…You don't look as tense either."
A small pause.
"…There's no reason to be."
She watched him for a second longer.
Then nodded.
"…Then it's really over."
This time—
He didn't hesitate.
"…Yes."
That settled it.
Leah leaned back into the couch.
Her body finally relaxing fully.
Her head tilted slightly.
Resting back.
Eyes half closing.
"…I forgot what this felt like," she murmured.
A pause.
"…What?"
"…Not waiting."
Silence.
Soft.
Understanding.
"…You don't have to anymore," he said.
Her eyes opened slightly.
She looked at him.
Really looked.
"…Neither do you."
A faint pause.
Then—
"…No."
That word carried something quieter.
Something final.
Leah shifted again.
Turning slightly toward him.
"…We can actually plan things now."
"…We could before."
"…Not like this."
A pause.
"…Not without thinking something would interrupt it."
He didn't argue.
Didn't correct her.
"…Then plan," he said.
She smiled faintly.
Small.
But real.
"…You're agreeing too easily."
"…Should I argue?"
"…Usually you do."
"…Not about this."
Her smile deepened slightly.
She leaned her head lightly against his shoulder.
Careful.
Always careful.
"…It feels normal again," she said quietly.
A pause.
Then—
"…It does."
They stayed like that.
No urgency.
No tension.
Just stillness.
Leah's hand moved slightly.
Resting against his.
Her fingers brushing his lightly.
He didn't pull away.
Didn't move.
Just let it stay.
"…We'll be okay," she murmured.
A quiet beat.
"…We will."
The mansion remained still around them.
No tension.
No pressure.
No weight pressing in from the outside.
Just calm.
Leah closed her eyes briefly.
Letting it settle.
Letting it stay.
For once—
She didn't feel like she had to be ready.
Didn't feel like she had to listen.
Didn't feel like something was coming.
Nothing was.
Nothing was waiting.
Everything had… stopped.
"…It's really over," she murmured softly.
A pause.
Then—
"…Yes."
And this time—
Neither of them questioned it.
The quiet held.
Soft.
Steady.
And for the first time in days—
It felt safe.