Morning came slowly, gray and heavy, seeping into the mansion like a reluctant visitor.
Izana was already awake.
He lay rigid on the bed, blindfold in place, jaw clenched as if he'd been holding it that way for hours. His breathing was shallow, uneven—not from the curse alone, but from anticipation. He could hear footsteps in the hall. Too many. Measured. Purposeful.
The medics.
The door opened without ceremony.
"Izana," Elias said calmly, already inside. "It's time."
Izana didn't move. "No."
One of the medics stepped forward. "Your chest bandages need to be changed. The injuries—."
"I said no," Izana snapped, voice sharp enough to cut. "Get the fuck out."
A beat of silence.
Leah stood just outside the doorway, having followed Elias down the hall. She froze at the sound of his voice—raw, defensive in a way she hadn't heard before.
Elias raised a hand slightly, stopping the medics. His voice remained steady. "You're bleeding through them."
"I don't care."
"You will," Elias replied. "Infection doesn't care about your pride."
Izana's fingers curled into the sheets. "Touch my chest and I'll make you regret it."
The room tightened.
Leah took a hesitant step forward. "I—I can leave," she said quickly, sensing the shift. "I didn't mean to—."
"No," Izana said immediately. Too fast. "You stay."
Elias's eyes flicked to him—just for a moment.
"That's enough," Elias said to the medics. "Out."
They hesitated.
"Now."
The door closed behind them, leaving only the three of them in the room.
Izana exhaled slowly, like he'd been bracing for impact.
Leah looked between them, confused. "They were just trying to help."
Izana let out a bitter laugh. "That's what everyone says."
She glanced at the bandages across his chest—thicker than before, wrapped tighter, as if he were holding himself together by force alone.
"…Why won't you let them change them?" she asked softly.
His head snapped toward her voice.
"Don't," he warned.
"Why?" she pressed, gentle but curious. "You're hurt. I can see that."
"Then look somewhere else."
"That isn't fair," she said, surprising herself. "You let them treat everything else."
Silence fell hard.
Elias watched Izana carefully, then spoke, voice low. "You're reopening the wounds. You know that."
Izana's jaw flexed. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
"And why," Elias asked quietly, "is this different?"
Izana didn't answer.
Leah swallowed. "Did I... did I do something wrong?"
"No," Izana said immediately. Then, harsher: "This has nothing to do with you."
"But it does," she said. "You won't even let me stand too close when they're near your chest."
His hands tightened in the sheets. "Drop it."
"I'm not trying to pry," she said, hurt slipping into her voice. "I just—."
"Stop," he snapped. "You don't get to just wonder about things you don't understand."
Leah flinched.
There it was again.
Izana heard it this time—the sharp inhale, the sudden stillness.
Something twisted unpleasantly in his chest. Not guilt. Not concern.
Irritation.
He hated reactions he didn't cause on purpose.
"You should leave," he said coldly.
Leah's throat tightened. "I was just trying to help."
"I didn't ask for it."
She nodded once, stiffly. "Right."
She turned and left without another word.
The door closed.
The moment it did, the pain hit.
It started low, deep—like pressure building under his skin. The curse stirred, responding to something it didn't like. His breaths grew uneven, heat crawling along his spine.
Elias moved instantly to his side. "Izana."
"Don't," Izana hissed, gripping the sheets as the sensation sharpened. "It's reacting."
"To what?"
"…Her."
Elias stiffened.
Izana swallowed hard. "Every time she gets too close. Every time she looks at me like I'm not… this." His fingers dug into the mattress. "It gets worse."
The pain spiked suddenly, forcing a sharp breath from his chest.
"You don't feel anything for her," Elias said carefully. "Do you."
Izana let out a humorless laugh through clenched teeth. "I don't even know what that would feel like."
Another wave surged through him, stealing his breath.
"But the curse does," Elias murmured.
Izana didn't respond. He couldn't.
Hours later, the pain dulled enough for exhaustion to claim him.
Night fell again.
Leah stood outside his door, heart pounding. She hadn't meant to come back. She told herself she wouldn't.
But the silence felt wrong.
She opened the door quietly.
Izana was asleep—or close to it. His breathing was shallow, uneven, sweat dampening his hair. The bandages across his chest were still there, edges slightly loosened from movement.
She stepped closer, hesitating.
"I won't touch," she whispered to herself.
Her fingers hovered near the bandages—not to remove them. Just to understand.
Why is he so afraid of this?
She leaned closer—
And his eyes snapped open beneath the blindfold.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing."
She stumbled back. "I—I wasn't—."
"Get away from me."
"I didn't touch you," she said quickly, panicked. "I swear."
His chest rose sharply, breath uneven again, anger flaring hot and sudden. "You don't get to look."
"I didn't see anything!"
"Good," he snapped. "Because if you had—."
He cut himself off.
Silence filled the room.
Leah's hands trembled at her sides. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn't have—."
"Yes," he said flatly. "You shouldn't have."
She nodded, eyes burning, and left without another word.
Izana lay back against the pillows, pulse still racing, the curse stirring uneasily beneath his skin.
He didn't understand why her presence made it worse.
He didn't understand why her absence made it quiet again.
And he didn't understand why the thought of her seeing what he believed himself to be felt worse than the pain ever could.