Morning light spilled across the floor in pale streaks.
Leah stirred in the armchair, her body aching from the awkward position. When she lifted her head, she saw him immediately.
Izana stood by the window.
Still.
Rigid.
The blindfold was back on.
Her stomach dropped.
"Izana?" she said softly.
"I'm awake," he replied.
His voice was steady. Controlled.
Too controlled.
She pushed herself up slowly. "When did you wake up?"
"A while ago."
"You didn't wake me."
"There was no reason to."
She frowned. "Why are you wearing it again?"
Silence.
Then, "Because I need it."
"For the light?"
"For you."
Her chest tightened. "What does that mean?"
"It means you shouldn't be near me."
The words felt like a slap.
"Izana—."
"I almost fucking killed you."
The sharpness in his voice made her freeze.
"You didn't," she said quickly.
"I could have."
His hands clenched at his sides. "That's enough."
She stepped closer anyway. "You were in pain. The curse activated. That wasn't you."
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
His jaw tightened. "Leah, don't."
She reached toward him instinctively.
"Don't touch me."
The words were low. Tense.
Not angry — afraid.
Her hand hovered in the air before she slowly pulled it back.
"You're pushing me away again."
"I'm protecting you."
"This isn't protection!"
"Yes, it is!"
His voice rose — just slightly — but enough to make the air feel charged.
"You don't understand," he continued, breathing heavier now. "Yesterday I saw you and for a second I didn't see you. I saw a target. Prey. Do you understand how fucked that is?"
Her heart dropped.
"That wasn't you," she insisted.
"It was me."
"No."
"Yes," he snapped. "And if it happens again, I might not stop."
"You would."
"You don't know that!"
The room fell silent except for their breathing.
Leah's voice softened. "I trust you."
"You shouldn't."
"I do."
"That's the problem."
She swallowed. "So what? You're just going to lock yourself away? Avoid me? Pretend I'm safer without you?"
"If that's what it takes."
Her eyes stung. "You don't mean that."
"I do."
"You're scared."
"Of course I'm fucking scared."
That broke something in her expression.
"I'm scared," he continued, voice rougher now. "Because I built my entire life around control. And yesterday I lost it. And you were standing right there."
"I wasn't afraid of you."
"I was afraid of myself."
Silence.
The confession hung between them.
She stepped closer again despite everything. "Look at me."
He didn't move.
"Izana. Look at me."
"I can't."
"Because of the blindfold?"
"Because if I look at you right now, I might change my mind."
Her breath caught.
"I don't want to push you away," he said quietly. "But I have to."
"You don't."
"I do."
His voice hardened again.
"Go back to your room."
She stared at him. "You're serious."
"Yes."
"You'd rather be alone?"
"Yes."
"You'd rather hurt me like this than risk hurting me physically?"
His jaw tightened. "Yes."
The answer was immediate.
And final.
Her voice shook now. "You don't get to decide what I can handle."
"I do if I'm the danger."
"You're not a monster!"
"I don't know that anymore!"
The words echoed.
Leah flinched slightly — not from fear, but from the pain in his voice.
"Izana…"
"Leah, just—. " He exhaled sharply. "Just go. Please."
The please was barely audible.
But she heard it.
"You're not protecting me," she said softly. "You're punishing yourself."
He didn't respond.
"Fine," she whispered.
She turned toward the door, each step heavy.
Right before she opened it, she paused.
"I'm not afraid of you," she said quietly. "But I think you're terrified of yourself."
The door closed behind her.
Izana stood frozen.
Then, after a few seconds—
"Fuck."
His hands trembled slightly.
He pressed his palm against the cool glass of the window.
He had done the right thing.
He knew he had.
So why did it feel worse than the curse itself?
The gap between their doors felt longer than usual.
Leah walked slowly, her chest tight, her thoughts louder than her footsteps.
She hadn't expected him to soften.
But she also hadn't expected him to look so… terrified.
Not of her.
Of himself.
She reached her bedroom and shut the door behind her quietly. The sound echoed in the stillness.
For a moment she just stood there, back against the door, staring at nothing.
Her hands were shaking slightly.
"Fine," she whispered to the empty room. "If that's what you want."
Her voice sounded small.
She pushed away from the door and crossed to her bed — the same bed she had slept in since the day she arrived at the mansion. It wasn't unfamiliar. It wasn't temporary.
But today it felt colder.
She sat down slowly, pressing her fingers into the mattress.
Her head throbbed faintly.
Her throat felt dry.
She told herself it was just the argument.
Just exhaustion.
Just stress.
She lay back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling.
"He thinks he's protecting me," she murmured. "Idiot."
But there was no anger in it.
Only sadness.
Her body felt heavier by the minute.
She turned onto her side and pulled the blanket up, curling slightly.
Her wrist — still bruised from when he had grabbed her during the curse's flare — ached when it pressed against the mattress. She lifted it slightly and stared at the darkened skin.
"You hate yourself for this," she whispered. "Not me."
Her vision blurred for a moment.
She blinked slowly.
Why did the room feel warmer?
A faint shiver ran down her spine despite the heat rising in her cheeks.
She swallowed.
"Not now," she muttered weakly.
She pushed herself upright to grab a glass of water from her bedside table — and immediately the room tilted.
Her hand shot out to steady herself.
Her pulse felt strange. Fast.
Her breathing shallow.
She sat still for a moment until the dizziness eased.
"Just tired," she told herself firmly. "That's all."
But when she stood again, her knees felt unstable.
She made it two steps before gripping the edge of her dresser.
Her body felt wrong.
Too warm.
Too weak.
Her stomach churned faintly.
She swallowed back the nausea and forced herself to breathe slowly.
If she went to him now—
If she knocked on his door—
He would think she was using this to get close to him.
He would push her away again.
The thought hurt more than the nausea.
"No," she whispered.
She would not go to him.
Not after that.
She walked slowly back to her bed and lay down again, this time pulling the blanket tightly around herself.
Her skin burned, but she felt cold underneath.
Her thoughts felt foggy.
Her limbs heavy.
She closed her eyes.
Just rest.
That's all.
Rest and it will pass.
Across the hall, Izana hadn't moved from the window for several minutes after she left.
The silence she left behind was louder than any argument.
His jaw was tight.
His hands still slightly trembling.
He replayed every word in his head.
You're terrified of yourself.
He exhaled sharply.
"Yeah," he muttered. "No shit."
He adjusted the blindfold slightly.
The fabric grounded him.
Darkness was easier.
Darkness meant control.
He moved toward his desk and sat down, forcing himself into routine — documents, security reports, shipment confirmations.
Focus.
Distance.
Safety.
He told himself she was fine.
She was strong.
She would be safer away from him.
That was the point.
He didn't hear the faint cough through the walls.
Didn't notice that her breathing had grown uneven.
Didn't know that she had stopped trying to sit up because even that required too much effort.
Back in her room, Leah's eyes fluttered open briefly.
Her head pounded now.
Her skin felt hot to the touch.
She pushed the blanket off slightly, only to shiver seconds later and pull it back.
Her body couldn't decide.
Her throat felt raw.
She coughed softly into the pillow to muffle the sound.
The effort left her more exhausted than before.
She pressed her forehead against the cool fabric of the pillow, trying to ease the heat.
"I'm fine," she whispered weakly.
But her voice cracked.
Her chest felt tight.
Her thoughts drifted slowly, disjointed.
The argument replayed in fragments.
Go back to your room.
You shouldn't be here.
Her stomach twisted.
She curled tighter into herself.
Even if she wanted to go to him now, she doubted she had the strength.
But she wouldn't.
She wouldn't give him another reason to think she needed protecting from him.
Hours passed quietly.
Izana remained in his study, blindfold on, posture rigid.
Several times he paused.
Several times he almost stood.
Almost walked to her door.
Almost knocked.
But each time he remembered the way his vision had shifted during the curse's activation.
The way everyone had looked like prey.
The way he had nearly—
His hands tightened into fists.
"No," he muttered.
Distance.
That was safer.
As afternoon light shifted toward evening, Leah's condition worsened.
Her skin was flushed now.
Her breathing shallow and warm.
A faint tremor ran through her fingers.
She hadn't eaten.
Hadn't moved.
Hadn't called anyone.
Her body finally began to succumb to what stress and exhaustion had started.
She turned slightly, trying to find a cooler part of the pillow.
Her wrist brushed against her cheek, and she winced faintly at the soreness.
Her eyes fluttered open again, unfocused.
"Izana…" she murmured faintly — not loud enough for anyone to hear.
Then she drifted back into an uneasy sleep.
Down the corridor, separated only by walls and stubborn fear, Izana sat alone in the dimming light.
He thought distance meant safety.
He didn't realize that the space between them was becoming something far more dangerous.
And neither of them understood yet how close they were to breaking.