The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the monitors and the faint creak of the bedframe as Izana shifted slightly. Leah stood near the edge of the bed for a moment, watching him breathe, unsure of whether to sit, kneel, or simply stay standing.
"I… can come in, right?" she asked softly, almost more to herself than him.
Izana's red eyes blinked open, catching the morning sunlight in a way that made Leah's chest tighten. He turned his head slightly to look at her, jaw tense, as if weighing the situation carefully.
"Yeah," he said quietly, voice low and hoarse. "You can."
Leah hesitated, then slowly moved closer and settled on the edge of the bed. Her hands hovered above his, unsure where to place them without crossing boundaries he might not be ready for. "Izana… I just wanted to… check on you," she said softly, trying to sound calm. "Make sure you're okay."
He flinched slightly at the concern in her voice, a mix of vulnerability and the sharp tension of the past two years lingering in the room. "I… I'm fine," he muttered, though the subtle wince when he shifted betrayed him.
Leah noticed immediately. "You don't have to hide it from me," she said gently. "I'll help you if you need it. You don't have to pretend to be okay."
Izana's red eyes narrowed just slightly, the usual control and calm she remembered now tinged with a trace of something raw and unsettled. "I just… don't want to talk about it," he said, a sharper edge in his voice.
Leah flinched, startled. He had never snapped at her like this. Her stomach dropped. "Izana…" she whispered, unsure how to respond. "I… I didn't mean—. "
He exhaled slowly and rubbed his forehead. "I know. I'm… I'm sorry. It's just…" He trailed off, gaze shifting to the wall. "Everything's… weird. Everything's changed."
Leah's heart ached at seeing him like this. Two years apart, injuries, the aftermath of everything they had endured—it had hardened him in ways she didn't fully understand yet. She reached out, gently brushing a hand along his arm. "I know," she said softly. "I understand. But… I'm here now. We can start… slowly."
Izana turned his gaze back to her, the red of his eyes catching the sunlight. He gave a faint, almost awkward smile. "Slowly…" he repeated, voice rough. "Yeah…"
Leah smiled softly back, her hands lingering near his. "I've missed you so much," she whispered, almost afraid he wouldn't understand the depth of her words.
"I've missed you too," he admitted quietly, and for a moment, the tension in the room lifted slightly. But the awkwardness remained, thick and heavy.
She took a careful breath. "Izana… I need to say this. I… I love you. I always have, and… I'm not letting two years take that away."
He blinked, and for a moment, her words seemed to catch him off guard. His jaw tightened, and he looked down, trying to process them. Then he lifted his gaze, red eyes locking with her blue ones. "Leah…" His voice was soft, hesitant, but full of something she hadn't heard in a long time. "I… I love you too. I always have. Always will."
The room seemed to still, time stretching around them. Leah's chest tightened, tears prickling her eyes. Two years. Two long, torturous years. And now he was here, alive, looking at her like she was the only person in the world.
For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other, unsure how to bridge the gap between relief and fear, between love and the awkward weight of their separation.
Then, almost instinctively, he leaned forward.
The kiss was hesitant at first, awkward even. Two years apart, the injuries, the near loss—it all made the moment fragile, tense. Leah froze for a heartbeat, uncertainty coursing through her, then gradually melted into it, letting herself press back. Her hands found his shoulders, gripping gently as if anchoring herself to him.
"I… I can't believe this," she whispered when they pulled apart slightly, forehead resting against his.
"I know," he admitted softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "It's… awkward. But I needed you. Needed this."
Leah smiled through her tears. "I needed it too. I just… I was so scared… I didn't want to lose you again the moment you came back."
His red eyes softened, the raw tension in them easing slightly. He reached up, cupping her cheek. "I won't let that happen," he said firmly, though gently. "Not ever again."
Leah pressed closer to him, hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms. "I just… I don't want to let go," she whispered.
"You don't have to," he murmured, nuzzling lightly into her hair. "I'm here. We're together. That's enough."
For the first time in years, Leah allowed herself to simply be with him. No fear, no anger, no worry—just the warmth, the reality of his presence. And for the first time in years, Izana allowed himself to relax against her, leaning into her comfort instead of fighting against it.
Leah rested her head against his shoulder, hands cupping his face gently. Izana held her, letting her feel the rhythm of his heartbeat. The awkwardness remained, a delicate layer beneath the reunion, but slowly, with each touch, each whispered word, it began to fade.
Outside the room, somewhere in the mansion, the faint hum of activity continued, but inside, for this brief morning, the world shrank to just the two of them—healing, reconnecting, and reclaiming what had been lost over two long years.
And even as the shadows of the past lingered, Leah knew one thing: no matter what came next, they had each other.