Layla's footsteps echoed sharply against the stone path as she stormed away from General Leonard's quarters.
She took a step. Then another.
She deliberately made it too loud, too fast and too angry.
Too unlike her.
The early evening air had cooled, but it did nothing to settle the restless heat in her chest. She hugged her arms lightly, as if holding herself together.
The guards stationed nearby stiffened slightly at her passing, but none dared to look up.
Behind her, Summer followed at an unhurried and measured pace.
She was not catching up or falling behind.
Just… there.
"Layla…"
Summer's voice came soft, almost blending into the breeze.
Layla slowed, then stopped. For a moment, she didn't turn.
Summer's voice drifted gently through the tension, like a hand reaching out but never quite touching.
Layla's shoulders rose and fell once before she turned around.
