Elias leans against the glass railing of his penthouse balcony, Rome's golden skyline stretching into the dusk like a painted hush.
The city buzzes faintly below — traffic, life, chaos. But inside him, there's only quiet.
And Leila's voice.
Formal. Measured. Impossibly neutral.
Like he's just… anyone.
He presses the edge of the binder she handed him against the railing. Not in anger. But in some unplaceable weight pressing against his chest.
That was the same girl, he thinks.
The one who trembled in the hospital bed.
The one whose eyes shimmered in Castel Sant'Elmo.
The one who laughed with her sister in a language he didn't understand, but still somehow felt.
And yet, today… nothing.
Not even hesitation.
Not even a flicker of what he thought he saw in her.
He doesn't know what he expected. Certainly not reverence. But this — this carefully preserved silence around her heart — it unsettles him more than any open confrontation ever could.
A quiet knock at the terrace door pulls him from his thoughts.
Kai steps out, coffee in one hand, phone in the other.
"Thought I'd find you brooding here," Kai says, handing him the mug. "You've got that look again. Like someone just rewrote your entire playbook."
Elias doesn't answer right away.
He takes the mug, eyes still fixed on the horizon. "She treated me like I was no one."
Kai raises a brow. "You're the CEO. That's kind of what's supposed to happen. Isn't that what you wanted? Boundaries?"
"No," Elias says sharply, then quieter. "Yes. I don't know."
Kai leans on the railing beside him, amused. "So now we've reached the 'I don't know what I want' phase. Classic."
Elias frowns. "She talks to everyone like that."
Kai shrugs. "So? Maybe that's how she protects herself."
Elias runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "She smiles at everyone. She's polite. But I don't think she lets anyone in."
Kai watches him carefully. "And you expected to be the exception?"
Elias doesn't reply.
He doesn't need to.
The silence between them stretches until Kai speaks again, softer this time.
"She's not one of those girls who fall for the power plays, El. You can't charm your way through that armor."
Elias exhales slowly, voice quiet but firm.
"She doesn't have armor."
"She is the armor."
Kai studies him for a long moment. "And that's what draws you in?"
Elias nods once, eyes distant. "It's not about being drawn in, Kai. It's like… I can't unsee her."
Leila sits curled near the window of her dorm room, knees drawn up, a pen resting idly between her fingers and a journal half-filled with smudged ink.
Outside, the late afternoon softens into twilight, shadows dancing along the rooftops. She doesn't move. Doesn't write. She just listens — to the quiet, to the gentle hum of the city, to her own heartbeat settling after a long day.
She exhales through her nose. Then whispers to herself, half a thought:
"This isn't new."
This… pull. This quiet unease in her chest. It happened once before — years ago. And she learned her lesson.
A flutter of kindness, a bit too much attention, and suddenly people believe you're holding out your hand for more.
But she isn't.
She never has.
The world expects girls to reciprocate warmth. To entertain affection just because it's offered.
But Leila has long since taught herself how to close the door quietly — with grace, not cruelty.
And yet, something about him presses at the edges of that rule.
His eyes unsettled her.
Not the color — though grey like stormlight is unsettling on its own — but the stillness in them. The way they watched her without intrusion… and yet, left her breathless, exposed.
She didn't know what scared her more:
That he looked at her that way.
Or that some part of her… felt it.
Felt seen.
She presses the journal shut gently and leans her forehead against her knees.
"I can't do this," she murmurs aloud.
It isn't just the differences — the class, the worlds they come from, the heavy presence of his past she doesn't yet know. It's the simplicity of her desire to be unnoticed. To pass through this chapter of her life without leaving any confusing footprints.
Leila doesn't want anyone trying to decipher her silences.
And yet… Elias Sinclair watches like he hears them.
She shuts her eyes and clenches her fists, grounding herself in breath. In solitude.
Not everything that glows is meant to be held.