The mansion gates closed behind them with a low, echoing clang.
Leah watched them through the car window until the iron bars disappeared from view, her reflection staring back at her in the glass. The familiar grounds stretched ahead—wide paths, trimmed hedges, stone walls that had once felt imposing but now only felt… empty.
They were home.
And somehow, that made everything feel heavier.
Izana didn't say a word as the car slowed to a stop beneath the covered entrance. He sat rigid in the back seat, shoulders tense, eyes fixed forward. The bandage beneath his coat was already darkening again, and Leah noticed the slight tremor in his hand when he reached for the door.
He was still bleeding.
Still hurting.
Still pretending he wasn't.
"I'll walk," he said when one of the guards stepped forward to assist.
The guard hesitated. "Sir—."
"I said I'll walk."
The edge in his voice was enough to end the conversation. He stepped out of the car, weight shifting carefully, movements precise and controlled. Leah followed a step behind, watching him closely.
Every instinct in her screamed to reach out.
She didn't.
Inside, the mansion was quiet—too quiet. Staff bowed their heads as they passed, eyes sliding away quickly, pretending not to notice the stiffness in Izana's posture or the faint line of blood that had already seeped through his sleeve.
Leah clenched her hands at her sides.
They climbed the stairs slowly. When they reached the upper floor, Izana stopped in the hallway, directly between two doors that faced each other across the corridor.
His room.
Her room.
"So," he said flatly. "This is where we split."
Leah nodded. "Yes."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The space between the doors felt charged—like something unsaid pressed thickly into the air.
"You should rest," Leah said quietly. "You lost a lot of blood."
He scoffed, turning toward his door. "You keep saying that like it'll suddenly matter."
Before she could respond, he opened his door and stepped inside, closing it firmly behind him.
Not slammed.
Not gentle.
Just… closed.
Leah stood there for several seconds before opening her own door.
Her room was exactly how she'd left it. Neat. Ordered. Untouched.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the opposite door through the narrow gap beneath it. The thought that he was only a few steps away—and yet completely unreachable—settled heavily in her chest.
That night, sleep didn't come easily.
Leah lay awake, listening.
The mansion had its own rhythm at night—distant footsteps, the occasional creak of old walls settling, the hush of wind against stone. Normally, it was comforting.
Tonight, it felt like waiting.
A sharp noise broke the silence.
Leah sat up.
It came from across the hall.
A muffled crash. Followed by a sharp, breathless curse.
"Fuck—!"
She was out of bed before she realized she'd moved.
Her hand hovered over the door handle.
He told you to keep your distance.
Another sound—something knocking over. Something breaking.
"Izana," she whispered.
She opened the door.
Across the hall, his door was ajar, light spilling out unevenly, flickering. She could hear his breathing now—ragged, uneven, like he couldn't quite pull air into his lungs properly.
Leah crossed the hallway and pushed the door open carefully.
Izana stood near the foot of the bed, one hand braced against the mattress, the other clutching at his head. His coat lay discarded on the floor, shirt wrinkled and stained, bandage soaked through.
The lamp on the nightstand flickered violently.
"Izana?" she said softly.
He snapped his head up.
For a terrifying second, his eyes didn't focus.
They slid past her.
Then locked onto something behind her.
"Get away from me," he said hoarsely.
Leah froze. "It's just me."
His breathing grew faster. "You're not—." He swallowed hard. "You're not supposed to be here."
The shadows along the walls stretched unnaturally, bending at sharp angles. Leah blinked—and for a moment, even she saw it. Shapes that didn't make sense. Movement where there shouldn't be any.
Then it was gone.
Izana staggered back a step.
"Fuck," he hissed. "It's hallucinations again."
Leah didn't move closer. She stayed exactly where she was—near the door, hands visible, voice steady.
"What do you see?" she asked.
His jaw clenched. "Things from before." His voice dropped. "Things I buried."
The lamp flickered again.
Izana squeezed his eyes shut. "This is why you don't stay near me."
"This is why you shouldn't be alone," she countered gently.
He laughed—a harsh, broken sound. "You think being here helps? This curse doesn't just hurt me. It wants collateral."
She swallowed. "I'm not touching you. I just want to make sure you don't collapse."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, he turned away, shoulders sagging. "Sit. If you're staying."
Relief washed through her.
She sat on the chair near the wall—not the bed. Not close enough to crowd him.
Minutes passed.
Izana's breathing slowly evened out. The flickering light steadied. The shadows returned to normal.
He sank onto the edge of the bed, exhaustion dragging him down.
"You should go back to your room," he said eventually. "I'm not worth losing sleep over."
Leah stood. "I will."
She hesitated at the door. "But if it happens again… just open your door. You don't have to come to mine."
He didn't respond.
But he didn't tell her no.
She returned to her room and closed the door quietly. From her bed, she could still see the faint line of light beneath his door.
Across from hers.
Close.
Too close to ignore.
Izana lay back, staring at the ceiling.
The curse receded for now, leaving behind its usual aftermath—pain, exhaustion, and the cruel clarity of knowing it would return.
But something was different.
When the hallucinations faded, Leah was still there.
She hadn't run.
She hadn't crossed boundaries he hadn't allowed.
She'd simply… stayed.
That thought lingered as sleep finally claimed him.
Between two doors.
Between two choices.
Between isolation and something far more dangerous—
Being seen.