The third night was the hardest.
Leah hadn't meant to stay awake again.
But sleep wouldn't come.
Every time she closed her eyes, her chest tightened. Every sound outside the mansion made her heart jump. The security lights flickered faintly through the curtains, stretching shadows across the walls.
She sat at the edge of the bed, fingers pressed lightly to her temples.
"Just breathe," she whispered to herself.
Her body felt heavier now. Not just tired — strained. The doctor had warned her to avoid stress.
But how was she supposed to do that?
Izana hadn't come home.
Her phone sat beside her, silent.
She stood slowly, intending to get water.
The room tilted.
She grabbed the edge of the dresser.
Her breath hitched.
"Not now," she whispered.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. A sharp wave of dizziness rolled through her, stronger than before. Her vision blurred at the edges.
Her hand flew instinctively to her abdomen.
"Please," she breathed.
Her knees buckled.
She caught herself on the side of the bed at the last second, fingers digging into the sheets. A soft gasp escaped her as she steadied herself, forcing slow breaths in and out.
The door opened suddenly.
"Leah?"
Elias crossed the room immediately, catching her before she could slump further.
"You're shaking," he said quietly.
"I'm fine," she whispered, though her voice trembled.
"You are not."
He guided her carefully back onto the bed.
Her skin was cold.
"I just stood up too fast," she insisted weakly.
Elias didn't argue. He pressed the call button for the on-call nurse anyway.
"You haven't been sleeping," he said evenly. "You haven't been eating properly."
"I have," she protested faintly.
"You're lying."
That silenced her.
The nurse arrived quickly, checking her vitals.
"Her heart rate is elevated," the nurse said gently. "Stress."
Leah closed her eyes.
Stress.
Of course.
Elias stepped aside but did not leave.
"Should we inform him?" the nurse asked carefully.
Leah's eyes snapped open.
"No."
Both of them looked at her.
"He's… busy," she said quietly. "He'll come back when he can."
Elias studied her carefully. "You're protecting him."
She shook her head weakly. "I don't want to distract him."
But that wasn't the full truth.
She didn't want him rushing home out of panic.
Not like this.
Not before she could tell him properly.
Once the nurse left, Elias lingered.
"You're hiding something," he said softly.
Her heart stuttered.
"What?"
"You look like someone carrying more than fear."
For a moment — just one — her composure cracked.
She nearly told him.
But she swallowed the words again.
"I just miss him," she said instead.
Elias held her gaze.
"…He will come back."
She nodded.
But fear sat heavy in her chest.
Across the city, a black car cut through the quiet streets before dawn.
Izana hadn't slept.
He hadn't needed to.
The moment he saw her message — Please come home soon — something shifted.
The curse hadn't stopped pulling.
Every hour away from her had felt wrong.
Not just emotionally.
Physically.
He stared ahead, jaw set.
Dante sat beside him.
"You're certain?" Dante asked quietly.
"Yes."
"And the countermeasure?"
"In place."
"And her parents?"
Izana's eyes darkened slightly.
"They miscalculated."
The car slowed as the mansion gates opened.
Early morning light barely touched the horizon.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
He stepped inside without waiting for an announcement.
Elias was already there.
Their eyes met.
"She nearly collapsed," Elias said calmly.
Izana stopped.
"When?"
"An hour ago."
The air in the room shifted.
The curse lashed violently beneath his skin.
"Why wasn't I informed?" Izana asked quietly.
"She refused."
That hit harder than anything else.
He moved without another word, heading toward their bedroom.
The door was slightly open.
Leah was sitting up in bed, pale but awake, wrapped in a blanket.
She looked small.
When she saw him, her breath caught.
"Izana…"
The word left her like a relief she'd been holding for days.
He crossed the room in seconds.
"You almost collapsed," he said, voice controlled — too controlled.
"I'm fine," she said softly.
"You are not."
He crouched in front of her, hands gently but firmly taking hers.
They were cold.
His jaw tightened.
"Why didn't you call me?" he asked.
Her eyes flickered downward.
"You were handling something important."
"You are more important."
The words were immediate.
Unfiltered.
Her throat tightened.
"I didn't want you worrying," she whispered.
His fingers tightened slightly around hers.
"I worry regardless."
Silence fell between them.
His gaze searched her face.
"You're pale."
"I'm just tired."
"You're lying."
That surprised her.
He could always tell.
She forced a small smile. "You haven't slept either."
"That is irrelevant."
He stood, brushing a hand gently through her hair. His touch lingered slightly longer than usual.
The curse quieted.
Not completely.
But enough.
"You should rest," he said more softly now.
"I couldn't," she admitted.
"Why?"
Because I'm carrying your child.
Because I was afraid something would happen to you.
Because I didn't know how to tell you.
But she only said:
"I missed you."
His expression softened just slightly.
"I'm here now."
She nodded.
Her hand drifted unconsciously to her abdomen again.
His eyes flicked down briefly.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
But he didn't ask.
Not yet.
"Did the doctor say anything?" he asked instead.
"Just stress," she replied quickly.
His gaze sharpened.
"Then the stress will be removed."
The calm way he said it sent a faint chill through her.
He leaned down, pressing his forehead lightly against hers.
"You will not go through this alone again."
Her chest tightened.
If only he knew.
"I know," she whispered.
He pulled back slightly, studying her.
"There is something else," he said quietly.
It wasn't a question.
Her heart pounded.
Now.
She could tell him now.
He was here.
But fear crept in again.
Not fear of him.
Fear of timing.
Of enemies.
Of instability.
"I just…" she started, then stopped.
He waited.
Always patient when it came to her.
"I'm just tired," she finished softly.
He didn't look convinced.
But he let it go.
For now.
He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"Rest," he murmured.
She lay back slowly, his hand remaining wrapped around hers.
As her eyes closed, her other hand rested protectively over her stomach.
He noticed again.
And this time…
Something in his expression shifted.
Not understanding yet.
But suspicion.
The curse pulsed once.
Quiet.
Waiting.