Evening settled quietly.
The villa was soft with light.
Firelight from the hearth danced across the walls.
Leah sat on the couch.
Blanket pulled tightly around her shoulders.
Feet tucked beneath her.
Eyes fixed on the large window.
Snow fell steadily.
Thick.
Silent.
The wind howled outside.
Branches scraped lightly against the walls.
A storm had arrived.
She shivered slightly.
Izana moved in the kitchen.
Warmth from the stove glowing on his face.
Steam rising from a pot.
A soft hiss as the soup simmered.
The aroma drifted into the living room.
Leah inhaled.
"…Smells good," she murmured.
He glanced toward her.
"…It will be," he said softly.
His movements precise.
Deliberate.
Hands steady as he stirred.
Chopped vegetables glinting under the kitchen light.
The snow pressed against the windows.
Each flake landing on the frozen landscape outside.
"…The news says it could last two weeks," Leah said quietly.
Her voice calm.
Almost detached.
"…Two weeks," he repeated.
Testing the weight of it.
"…No one should leave their homes," she added.
"…No one," he confirmed, his gaze flicking to the television screen on the counter.
Izana stirred again.
Slowly.
Eyes on the pot.
"…Then we stay," he murmured.
"…I suppose," she said softly.
A pause.
"…Actually," he added, a faint smile tugging at his lips, "…I'm glad."
Her brows lifted slightly.
"…Glad?" she echoed.
"…To stay," he said.
"…Here. With you."
Her lips curved faintly.
"…I'm glad too," she whispered.
He set the spoon aside.
Wiped his hands carefully.
Stepped into the living room.
Eyes lingering on the snow.
"…It'll be quiet," he said.
"…Just us."
Leah leaned back slightly.
Head resting against the arm of the couch.
"…I like quiet," she said softly.
"…Me too," he murmured.
He moved closer.
Kneeling in front of her.
Hands brushing her knees as he passed.
"…Dinner is almost ready," he added.
"…Good," she said.
"…I'm hungry."
He smiled faintly.
The firelight highlighted the edges of his face.
Warmth contrasting with the cold outside.
He glanced at the news again.
Snow warnings, closures, streets blocked.
"…We'll be here a while," he murmured.
"…Until it passes," she said softly.
A calm settled between them.
The kind that didn't need words.
Izana returned to the kitchen.
Careful not to spill the soup.
He set the table.
Two bowls steaming.
Spoons arranged precisely.
"…Here," he said, carrying it over.
Leah reached for a bowl.
Hands brushing.
Warmth from his fingers.
"…Careful," he murmured.
"…I'm careful," she replied softly.
They sat across from each other.
Firelight flickering between them.
Outside, the wind rattled the windows.
Inside, the storm felt distant.
"…Two weeks," she murmured again.
"…We'll manage," he said quietly.
Her eyes softened.
"…With you, it doesn't feel long," she whispered.
He tilted his head slightly.
"…Good," he said simply.
They ate in quiet.
Spoons clinking softly against the bowls.
Steam rising.
Aromatic scents filling the room.
Small smiles shared between bites.
Leah's hand occasionally brushed his.
"…Soup's perfect," she murmured.
"…Told you," he replied, a faint smirk.
"…You did," she said softly.
"…And now we wait," he murmured.
Outside, the snow thickened.
Covering the trees.
The frozen lake glinting beneath the dim light.
"…It's beautiful," she said quietly.
"…Yes," he replied.
"…Even in a storm."
A pause.
"…I like storms with you," she said softly.
"…Then we'll make the most of this one," he murmured.
He reached across the table.
Fingers brushing hers again.
Small contact.
Comforting.
"…Call Elias?" she asked suddenly.
Izana nodded.
"…He needs to know," he said.
He reached for his phone.
Dialed quickly.
"…Yes, Elias. We'll stay until it passes," he said.
"…No rush."
Leah watched him.
Silent.
Warmth pooling in her chest.
"…Good," she murmured softly.
"…I like more time here."
"…As do I," he said simply.
He ended the call.
"…Everything settled," he added.
"…Perfect," she whispered.
A quiet moment passed.
The firelight flickered.
Snow piling outside.
"…Do you want to move closer to the fire?" he asked.
She nodded faintly.
"…Yes," she whispered.
He set his bowl aside.
Moved to the couch.
Blanket draped over both of them.
She nestled against him.
Warmth spreading.
Firelight painting their faces.
Hands found each other again.
Fingers intertwined.
"…Better?" he murmured.
"…Much," she whispered.
A pause.
"…This is nice," she said softly.
"…Quiet," he murmured.
"…Safe."
"…And warm," she added.
"…Exactly," he agreed.
The storm rattled the windows more fiercely.
Inside, the villa felt like a cocoon.
"…I don't mind staying," she said quietly.
"…Neither do I," he said softly.
"…Two weeks isn't so bad," she murmured.
"…Especially here," he replied.
A small laugh escaped her.
"…You always know how to make everything better," she said softly.
"…And you always make it worth staying," he murmured.
She tilted her head, resting against his chest.
"…I could sit here forever," she whispered.
"…Then we will," he said softly.
"…Until the snow stops."
Time stretched.
The storm outside became a backdrop.
Snow piling higher.
Winds howling.
Inside, warmth wrapped around them.
Blanket over both.
Fingers brushing.
Quiet laughter.
"…Dinner was perfect," she said.
"…I'll take credit," he murmured.
"…Partly."
"…Mostly," she whispered.
"…Agreed," he said softly.
Another pause.
"…I like watching it snow," she murmured.
"…Me too," he said quietly.
"…With you."
He brushed a strand of hair from her face.
Fingers lingering on her cheek.
"…Two weeks," she whispered again.
"…Two weeks," he agreed.
"…And more."
A quiet laugh escaped her.
"…I like that," she murmured.
"…Me too," he said simply.
The storm raged outside.
Inside, peace lingered.
Hands still together.
Bodies close.
Firelight warming them both.
No words needed.
Just presence.
Just quiet.
Just trust.
And for now—
That was more than enough.