Morning came slowly.
Not rushed.
Not interrupted.
Just… quiet.
Soft light filtered through the curtains, settling gently across the room.
Nothing moved.
Nothing stirred.
For once—
There was no urgency waiting.
No tension lingering beneath the surface.
Just stillness.
—
Leah was already awake.
She wasn't sure when she woke up.
Or if she ever fully fell asleep.
But she hadn't moved.
Not even once.
Because—
Izana was still on top of her.
Exactly where he had fallen asleep.
His arms still loosely wrapped around her.
His head still resting against her stomach.
His weight—
Still very much there.
Leah let out a quiet breath, her eyes drifting down to him.
"…You're still heavy," she murmured softly.
There was no response.
Of course not.
He was still asleep.
Completely.
Deeply.
Her fingers were still in his hair.
They had barely stopped moving the entire time.
Slow, gentle strokes.
Over and over.
At some point, it had just become natural.
Automatic.
Leah shifted slightly beneath him—just enough to ease the pressure on her back.
But she didn't try to move him.
Didn't try to wake him.
Because she knew—
He needed this.
More than he would ever admit.
Her gaze softened as she watched him.
The way his expression stayed relaxed.
The way his breathing remained steady.
He hadn't stirred.
Not once.
Not even slightly.
"…You really didn't wake up at all," she whispered.
And that—
That was rare.
For him, it meant everything.
Leah's fingers slowed slightly, brushing softly through his hair again.
Then—
Slowly—
Very slowly—
Izana stirred.
It was subtle.
A small shift.
A slight tightening of his arm around her.
Then—
His breathing changed.
Leah stilled slightly, watching him carefully.
His eyes opened.
Slowly.
Red eyes, still heavy with sleep, settled on her.
For a moment—
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
He just looked at her.
Leah smiled faintly.
"…Good morning."
Izana blinked once.
Then again.
As if grounding himself.
"…Morning."
His voice was lower than usual.
Rougher.
Still touched with sleep.
Leah tilted her head slightly.
"You used me as a pillow."
A small pause.
Izana didn't move.
Didn't lift his head.
Didn't let go.
"You didn't stop me."
Leah huffed a quiet laugh.
"I couldn't. You passed out instantly."
Another pause.
Izana's gaze remained on her.
"…I didn't wake up," he said.
It wasn't a question.
It was a realization.
Leah shook her head gently.
"Not once."
Silence settled for a moment.
But it wasn't awkward.
It was… thoughtful.
Izana's grip around her tightened slightly.
Not possessive.
Not controlling.
Just—
there.
Grounded.
"…I didn't notice," he murmured.
Leah's expression softened.
"I know."
She watched him for a second longer.
Then—
A small smile returned.
"You also talk in your sleep."
That got his attention.
His gaze sharpened just slightly.
"…What did I say?"
Leah's smile widened just a little.
"Something important."
A pause.
Izana studied her carefully.
"…Leah."
There was a quiet warning in his tone.
Not sharp.
But present.
Leah laughed softly.
"You said you love me."
Silence.
A brief one.
But meaningful.
Izana didn't look away.
Didn't deny it.
Didn't question it.
Instead—
His gaze softened.
Just slightly.
"Then I meant it."
Leah's breath caught just a little.
Even though she expected that answer.
Even though she already knew.
Hearing it like that—
Calm.
Certain.
Without hesitation—
Still did something to her.
Her fingers moved gently through his hair again.
"…Good," she murmured softly.
Neither of them spoke for a moment after that.
They didn't need to.
—
Eventually—
Leah shifted slightly beneath him.
"…Okay, now you actually have to move," she said lightly. "I think I lost feeling in my legs."
Izana blinked once.
Then slowly lifted himself off her.
Reluctantly.
Leah sat up, stretching slightly before glancing at him.
"…Feel better?"
A pause.
Then—
"Yes."
Simple.
But real.
—
Later that morning—
The mansion felt… different.
Quiet.
But not tense.
Still.
But not heavy.
For once—
Nothing felt like it was waiting to happen.
Leah glanced at Izana as they walked.
"You're not working today."
He looked at her.
"…I don't have anything urgent."
"That wasn't a suggestion."
Izana's lips curved slightly.
Barely.
"…I noticed."
Leah reached for his hand, lacing her fingers with his.
"Come on."
He didn't resist.
—
The garden was calm.
Open.
Sunlight spread across the grass, warming everything it touched.
Leah stepped onto it first, then turned slightly—
And pulled Izana with her.
She sat down first.
Then shifted.
Turning slightly—
And settling in between his legs.
Leaning back against his chest.
Comfortable.
Natural.
Like it had always been that way.
Izana adjusted instinctively.
His arms coming around her.
Resting lightly.
Holding her without hesitation.
Leah let out a quiet breath.
"…This is nice."
"It is."
Simple.
But softer than usual.
Leah tilted her head slightly.
"…What do you want now?"
Izana didn't answer immediately.
His chin rested lightly against the top of her head.
His arms remained around her.
Steady.
Secure.
"…What do you mean?"
"Everything's done," Leah said quietly. "No more threats. No more… him."
A pause.
"…So what do you want?"
Silence.
Longer this time.
Not empty.
Just… thoughtful.
Then—
"…You."
Leah blinked slightly.
Her cheeks warmed just a little.
"…That's not a full answer."
"It is."
Leah laughed softly.
"You're impossible."
"Yes."
She shook her head, smiling.
Then leaned back into him a little more.
Comfortable.
Safe.
Her hand resting over his where it sat around her.
"…You can want more than one thing, you know."
Izana was quiet for a moment.
Then—
"…I know."
Leah tilted her head slightly.
"…And?"
A pause.
Then—
"…A life where you're still here."
Her expression softened instantly.
That—
That was different.
That wasn't control.
That wasn't power.
That wasn't strategy.
That was—
Him.
Leah's fingers intertwined with his more tightly.
"You're stuck with me."
"Good."
Leah smiled.
Then closed her eyes briefly, letting the warmth of the sun settle over them.
Letting the quiet stay.
Letting the moment exist without interruption.
And for once—
There was nothing else pulling them away.
No past.
No pressure.
No weight waiting to return.
Just this.
Just them.
And a future that, for the first time—
Didn't feel uncertain.
But open.