The room is dim, a soft yellow glow spilling from the bedside lamp between their twin beds. Outside, the world hums with late-night stillness. Inside, there's only the rustle of blankets, the occasional creak of bedsprings, and the hush that settles between two girls too tired to sleep, but too full to stay silent.
Sofia turns toward Leila, her cheek pressed against her pillow.
"Kai kept me updated, you know… the whole time you were in the hospital," she says softly.
Leila shifts slightly, glancing over. "He did?"
"Mm-hmm." Sofia smiles faintly. "Texts. Calls. Even a voice note once — which is hilarious coming from a man who's probably allergic to sincerity."
Leila chuckles quietly.
"I think," Sofia continues, eyes glinting, "he wanted an excuse to talk to me. But it didn't feel like a game. It felt… real."
Leila watches her silently, the words like small ripples.
"I don't know what this is," Sofia admits. "But when I talk to him… I feel alive, Leila. Like suddenly I'm not on autopilot anymore."
Leila's voice is gentle. "And does he feel the same?"
"I think he does," Sofia murmurs. "There's something in his eyes. Like… like he's trying to stop himself from falling, but already has."
A pause.
Then Leila smiles — soft, knowing. "Then don't hold back, Sofia. If there's sincerity in his actions, in his gaze… dive in."
Sofia watches her quietly for a moment, then asks, "And you? You're giving me advice, but you've been somewhere else ever since we got back."
Leila looks away, her fingers gripping her blanket. "I saw something in Elias's eyes… during our last conversation. Something he doesn't even realize himself."
Sofia's gaze sharpens. "What did you see?"
Leila hesitates, then says softly, "Emotion. Not control. Not calculation. Just… raw, unfamiliar emotion. The kind that makes your breath catch."
Sofia leans forward slightly. "And what scared you?"
Leila exhales. "The distance."
Sofia frowns. "What do you mean?"
"The difference between him and me is like the distance between the earth and the heavens," Leila whispers. "His world is all power and shadows… mine is silence and simplicity. I don't belong in his orbit."
Sofia's expression softens. "You don't have to belong anywhere. You just have to feel."
"That's the problem," Leila murmurs. "I'm not even sure I have a heart to love with."
Sofia blinks, stunned.
Leila continues, "I think I left it somewhere between the struggles, the responsibilities, the survival. It's not that I don't feel. I just… don't know how to offer something that doesn't exist anymore."
Sofia reaches across and touches her hand.
"Maybe," she says gently, "your heart didn't disappear. Maybe it's just waiting for the right person to recognize it again."
A long silence hangs in the air.
Leila doesn't respond. But she doesn't pull her hand away either.
Elias stands behind the tinted glass wall of his office, coffee untouched in his hand.
Below, the morning bustle of Sinclair Enterprises plays out like a well-rehearsed symphony — polished shoes on marble floors, quiet clicks of keyboards, a chorus of greetings and clipped efficiency.
But his gaze stays trained on one person.
Leila.
She's tucked into a quiet corner of the shared project wing, her head bent over a thick folder, brows furrowed in quiet concentration. The early light streams through the blinds, catching the edges of her scarf, casting a soft glow around her. The rest of the office fades. Only she remains in focus.
There's nothing particularly dramatic about her movements. She types. She flips a page. She takes a quiet sip of water. But there's something about the way she carries herself — composed, silent, and strikingly… solitary.
Elias leans slightly against the glass, frowning without realizing it.
He's watched people his whole life — to calculate, to analyze, to control. But with her, watching feels different.
She doesn't chase attention. Doesn't seem to need praise. Her presence isn't loud — it's steady. Calm.
And that calm unsettles him more than the loudest voice ever could.
His fingers tighten slightly around the coffee cup.
"She doesn't even know what she's doing," he mutters under his breath.
Behind him, Kai walks in, glancing up from his phone. "Did you say something?"
Elias doesn't move. "Nothing."
Kai follows his line of sight and smirks when he spots Leila. "Ah. Our mysterious storm in silence."
"She's… focused," Elias says absently.
"She's glowing," Kai teases, taking a seat. "Must be nice, waking up to peaceful chaos."
Elias doesn't reply, but something flickers behind his eyes.
"She's different," Kai adds, casually flipping through a file. "I don't think she even knows the effect she has. That's rare. Dangerous, even."
Elias finally turns away from the glass.
"She's not dangerous," he says quietly. "She's… a reminder."
Kai raises a brow. "Of what?"
Elias looks down at his cold coffee, voice unreadable.
"That something real still exists."