Lana's POV
Silence can be peaceful.
But not today.
Today, it felt like a punishment.
I stood in the kitchen, staring at the kettle as it boiled, pretending I wasn't thinking about him… but everything reminded me of Leo—
the cup he once used,
the chair he sat in,
even the window he stared out of when he was pretending not to stare at me.
I hated it.
I hated that after everything he'd done… my heart still reacted to the sound of his name.
A knock sounded at the door.
My heart stilled.
No.
It couldn't be him.
He wouldn't come.
I took a breath and opened the door anyway.
And there he was.
Leo.
Standing like a storm that had lost its way.
His hair was tousled, his eyes tired, as if sleep refused to visit him. Rain dotted his shoulders, slipping down his jaw.
"I need to talk to you," he said quietly.
I stepped back, unsure, but I didn't shut the door.
He walked in slowly, carefully—as if one wrong move would make me shatter.
"Lana…" His voice cracked the silence. "I don't want to fight."
I folded my arms, pretending I didn't feel the air shift around him.
"Then talk."
He looked at me, really looked at me, and something in his expression softened—something raw, something he wasn't used to showing anyone.
"I wasn't ignoring you," he said. "I just… didn't know what to say without making things worse."
I didn't respond.
I didn't trust my voice.
He took another breath.
"Every time I think I'm doing the right thing, I end up hurting you. And I don't want that anymore."
I looked away, staring at the floor, at anything but those eyes that could pull the truth out of me.
"Then stop doing it," I whispered.
He moved one step closer—close enough that I could feel his warmth.
"I'm trying," he said, voice low and honest. "But I don't know how to fix something I broke."
My chest tightened.
"Some things don't need fixing," I replied softly. "Some things just need honesty."
He closed his eyes for a second… and when he opened them, they weren't cold anymore.
They were full of fear.
Regret.
And something else that scared me more—
care.
"I'm scared, Lana," he admitted. "Scared of losing something I didn't even realize I wanted."
My heart skipped.
He didn't touch me.
He didn't try to.
He just stood there, waiting—letting me decide what this moment would become.
And maybe that was the first real apology he ever gave.