Private Library, Sinclair Estate — Morning
Leila steps beside Elias down the sunlit corridor, the soft echo of their footsteps muffled by thick rugs. A gentle breeze filters in through the half-open French windows, and the scent of blooming lemon trees drifts inside.
"You mentioned you like quiet places," Elias says, hands tucked in his pockets. "Would you prefer a walk in the garden… or perhaps, the library?"
Leila hesitates for a heartbeat — both sound appealing — but something about the mention of books tugs at her heart.
"The library," she replies with a small smile. "Always the library."
Elias gestures ahead, letting her lead. When they enter, Leila stops at the threshold, caught in awe. Floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with hardcovers, leather-bound volumes, a soft golden glow bathing the room from tall windows.
Her expression softens with childlike wonder.
"It's beautiful," she murmurs. "I think I just fell in love."
Elias watches her silently for a beat. Then quietly asks, "How are you feeling now… after some rest?"
Leila turns to him. "Much better. Your family has been… incredibly kind. Especially your mother."
"She asked this morning if you'd like to stay longer," he says. "She wouldn't mind taking care of you for a few more days."
Leila's smile grows bittersweet. "Please thank her for me. But I've already troubled your family too much. Sofia's returning tomorrow, and I should go back."
Elias nods but says nothing — just watches her as she slowly walks between the shelves, running her fingers lightly across the book spines.
"I want to have something like this one day," she says suddenly, softly. "A library like this… in my own home. Somewhere I can spend the day reading after seeing off my husband to work. A little space filled with peace and quiet where I can read and take care of things."
Elias blinks, slightly taken aback.
"You wouldn't continue working?" he asks, genuinely surprised. "I assumed… with how focused you are, that you'd want a career. Something lasting."
Leila pauses, turning to face him.
"I study because I love to learn," she says, calm and open. "And because if life ever requires me to stand up for my family's stability, I want to be ready."
She smiles, but it's not carefree. It carries weight.
"But I don't dream of climbing ladders or being remembered by the world. I want a peaceful, self-contained life. One that doesn't disturb anyone. I want to live gently. And die the same way."
Her voice softens even more.
"When I'm gone… I don't want to leave waves behind. I just want to exist quietly in beautiful memories. Nothing more. Nothing overwhelming. No nuisance."
A long silence settles between them.
Elias stares at her — not in confusion, not even in pity — but in stunned contemplation.
She is unlike anyone he's ever known.
He finally understands that the stillness Leila carries isn't passivity. It's intention. A choice. The result of everything she's endured, distilled into grace.
He leans slightly on the side of the shelf, his tone quieter now.
"I think… you're the first person I've ever met who wants to disappear beautifully."
Leila chuckles under her breath. "That sounds a little tragic when you say it like that."
"But it's not," Elias says. "It's rare."
Their eyes meet again. No grand confessions. Just quiet, mutual awareness — a connection built not on intensity, but depth.
Outside, the wind brushes through the lemon trees again. Inside, time feels like it's breathing slower — just for a little while.
Leila turns away first, her hand brushing along the edge of a low shelf as she moves toward the door. The soft rustle of her clothes and the fading scent of lavender linger as she walks out of the room, her steps light, her posture composed.
Elias doesn't move.
He just watches her retreating figure in silence — the way the late morning light filters through the tall windows and wraps around her like she belongs to some quieter world.
Not this one.
Not his.
There's a strange tightness in his chest. Not longing. Not desire.
Just... awareness.
Of what he isn't.
Of what she is.
And as the door eases shut behind her, Elias remains rooted in place — a man of power standing in a room full of knowledge, unable to define the one feeling beginning to carve space inside him.
Something shifts. Quietly. Permanently.
And the library falls back into stillness, echoing with the absence of her footsteps.