Regret.
That was the word echoing in Leo's mind. Ever since he had given Bella her own dream room, she had spent more time there than by his side. He had thought it would make her happy, and it did, but now he found himself glancing toward that room far too often, waiting to hear her laughter or the soft patter of her footsteps returning.
It had only been a day. Perhaps tomorrow she would grow tired of it, he reassured himself. Yet deep down, he loved how she had grown closer to him, how she had stopped being so guarded. That treehouse, the shelves of plushies, the glowing lights around her desk, they had made her smile at him as if he had given her the world.
