Evening settled slowly.
Quiet.
Still.
The room held a soft warmth.
Golden light stretched across the floor.
Leah stood by the bedside table.
The drawer slightly open.
The envelope in her hands.
She hadn't moved for a while.
Just standing there.
Looking at it.
Feeling the weight of something so small…
and so important.
Her fingers traced the edge.
Careful.
Slow.
"…Tomorrow," she whispered.
The word lingered.
Not light.
Not simple.
It carried something deeper now.
Her thumb brushed over the front of the envelope.
"…You'll know tomorrow."
A soft breath left her.
Her hand drifted.
Resting lightly over her stomach.
Unthinking.
Natural.
"…I'll tell him," she murmured.
A small pause.
"…I promise."
Silence followed.
Then—
her expression shifted.
Something quiet.
But sharp.
"…He never told me…"
Her brows drew together slightly.
"…his birthday."
A pause.
Long.
Still.
Her eyes lowered.
Thinking.
Piecing things together.
"…Why didn't he…"
Then—
it came back.
Not fully.
Not all at once.
Just fragments.
Pieces she already knew.
"…Ten…"
Soft.
Barely there.
"…That day…"
Her fingers stilled completely.
The envelope unmoving in her hands.
"…his mother…"
Silence filled the room.
Heavy.
But quiet.
Understanding settled slowly.
Deep.
He never told her.
He never celebrated.
He never spoke about it.
Not once.
And now—
she understood why.
Her grip softened.
More careful now.
"…That's why you don't like it," she whispered.
A small breath left her.
"…You never told me."
Her eyes lowered again.
Then lifted.
A quiet determination forming.
"…Then I'll make it different."
Soft.
But certain.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the envelope.
"…Just this once."
She stepped closer to the drawer.
Moving to place it back—
The door opened.
Soft.
But enough.
She froze.
Izana stepped inside.
Calm.
Controlled.
His presence filled the room instantly.
His gaze found her.
Then shifted.
To her hands.
The envelope.
The open drawer.
A pause.
He didn't speak right away.
Just watched.
Leah's fingers tightened slightly.
Then slowly—
she placed the envelope inside.
Careful.
Deliberate.
The drawer remained open.
Just slightly.
Izana stepped closer.
Measured.
Quiet.
His gaze stayed on the drawer.
"…What is that."
Low.
Not harsh.
Just direct.
Leah didn't look at him immediately.
"…Nothing."
Soft.
Too soft.
A pause.
He stepped closer again.
Now beside her.
His hand moved.
Toward the drawer.
Leah reacted instantly.
Her hand reached out.
Stopping him.
Light.
But firm.
"…Don't."
Silence fell.
Sharp.
Immediate.
His hand stilled under hers.
His gaze shifted.
From the drawer—
to her.
Focused now.
"…You stopped me."
Quiet.
She slowly pulled her hand back.
"…It's nothing important."
A pause.
"…Just something I'm keeping."
His eyes didn't move.
Didn't soften.
"…You don't want me to see it."
Not a question.
She hesitated.
Then—
"…Not yet."
Another pause.
His gaze flickered slightly.
Something unreadable.
"…Not yet?"
"…No."
A breath.
"…I will show you."
A pause.
"…Just not today."
Silence stretched.
Then—
"…Alright."
Simple.
But not careless.
He stepped back slightly.
Letting it go.
For now.
Leah closed the drawer slowly.
Soft click.
Her hand rested against it.
Then dropped.
She turned to him.
Watching him now.
Careful.
"…Can I ask you something?"
A pause.
"…You're already asking."
A faint shift in his tone.
Almost teasing.
Her lips curved slightly.
"…Do you celebrate your birthday?"
The question landed gently.
But it changed the air.
Izana didn't answer immediately.
His expression stilled.
Just slightly.
"…No."
Simple.
Flat.
Expected.
Leah nodded slowly.
"…You don't like it."
Not quite a question.
"…No."
Another pause.
She hesitated.
Then—
"…Why?"
Soft.
Careful.
His gaze stayed on her.
Still.
Unmoving.
A long silence followed.
Then—
"…I just don't."
Short.
Closed.
But not cold.
She watched him.
Not pushing.
But not letting it go fully.
"…You've never celebrated?"
"…No."
"…Not even once?"
A pause.
Then—
"…Not since I was a child."
The words were quiet.
But they stayed.
Leah's fingers curled slightly.
"…Since you were ten?"
The moment she said it—
she felt it.
The shift.
Subtle.
But real.
Izana didn't look away.
But something in him stilled.
More than before.
Silence followed.
Then—
"…Yes."
Low.
Barely there.
Leah's expression softened immediately.
"…I didn't mean to— "
"…It's fine."
A pause.
"…You already know."
Not accusing.
Just… stating it.
She nodded slowly.
"…A little."
Silence settled again.
He didn't explain.
Didn't add more.
Just stood there.
Still.
Contained.
Leah stepped closer.
Careful.
Her voice softer now.
"…You don't have to talk about it."
A pause.
"…I won't ask again."
He looked at her.
Longer this time.
Then—
"…It's not something I think about."
A beat.
"…Or celebrate."
She nodded again.
"…Okay."
Quiet.
Understanding.
Then—
"…What's in the drawer."
The question came back.
Soft.
But certain.
Leah's breath caught slightly.
"…You're still thinking about it."
"…Yes."
A pause.
"…You stopped me."
She looked at him.
Held his gaze.
Then—
"…It's something for you."
The words slipped out.
Before she could stop them.
Silence followed.
Different now.
His eyes sharpened slightly.
"…For me."
"…Yes."
A pause.
"…For tomorrow."
Another silence.
Longer.
"…You're planning something."
Not a question.
She gave a small smile.
"…Maybe."
His gaze lingered on her.
Searching.
Then—
"…You don't need to."
Quiet.
Honest.
She shook her head slightly.
"…I want to."
A pause.
"…Even if you don't like the day."
Another pause.
His expression shifted.
Subtle.
Unreadable.
"…You shouldn't change anything because of that."
"…I'm not changing it," she said softly.
A small breath.
"…I'm just adding something."
Silence.
Then—
he stepped closer.
Closing the distance again.
His hand lifted.
Resting gently against her cheek.
Warm.
Familiar.
"…You've been different."
Quiet.
She stilled slightly.
"…Have I?"
"…Yes."
A pause.
"…You're hiding something."
"…A little."
"…And planning something."
"…Maybe."
A faint shift in his expression.
Not quite a smile.
But close.
"…You're not subtle."
She laughed softly.
"…I'm trying."
"…You're not succeeding."
"…I know."
A small pause.
Her hand lifted.
Resting lightly over his.
Holding it there.
"…Tomorrow," she whispered.
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"…You'll tell me."
"…Yes."
A pause.
"…Everything."
She nodded.
"…Everything."
Silence settled between them.
But softer now.
Lighter.
His thumb brushed lightly against her skin.
Slow.
Grounding.
"…Alright."
Quiet.
Accepting.
Her breath eased.
Just slightly.
The weight shifting.
Not gone.
But easier.
Behind her—
the drawer stayed closed.
The envelope inside.
Waiting.
And tomorrow—
it wouldn't be hidden anymore.