Morning came quietly.
Soft light filtered through the curtains.
Warm.
Gentle.
Leah stirred slightly.
Eyes opening slowly.
Her hand moved across the bed.
Empty.
Cold.
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…Iz?"
No answer.
The room stayed still.
A small breath left her.
"…You're already gone."
Her fingers traced the sheets beside her.
"…Your office…"
A pause.
Long.
"…You're ignoring today again."
Not bitter.
Just… understanding.
She sat up slowly.
Careful.
Her hand drifted.
Resting lightly on her stomach.
A soft smile formed.
"…Not today," she whispered.
"…Not this time."
She stood.
Moved toward the wardrobe.
Clothes chosen slowly.
Thoughtfully.
Something soft.
Something he wouldn't question.
As she changed—
her gaze dropped again.
Her stomach.
Her hand followed.
Light.
Gentle.
"…Good morning," she whispered.
A small pause.
"…We're telling him today."
Her fingers brushed over the fabric.
"…He's going to be happy."
She finished dressing.
Moved to the bedside table.
Opened the drawer.
The envelope rested there.
Still.
Waiting.
Her fingers curled around it.
Careful.
Holding something fragile.
Something that would change everything.
"…For him," she murmured.
She slipped it into her pocket.
Closed the drawer softly.
Click.
She turned.
Left the room.
The hallway was quiet.
Sunlight stretched across the floor.
Soft gold.
Warm.
She moved toward the stairs.
Steps light.
Measured.
Halfway down—
she paused.
Voices ahead.
Elias.
Dante.
Standing together.
Low conversation.
They both looked up.
"…Leah," Elias said softly.
"…Good morning," she replied.
Dante gave a small nod.
"…Morning."
She stepped closer.
"…Is Izana in his office?"
A pause.
They glanced at each other.
Subtle.
But there.
"…He is," Elias said.
"…But he hasn't left since early morning," Dante added.
Leah's expression softened.
"…He didn't even come back to the room."
"…No," Elias said quietly.
Another pause.
"…He's… not in the best state today," Dante said.
Leah looked at him.
"…Because of his birthday."
Dante nodded.
"…It's always difficult."
Elias' voice softer now.
"…The grief doesn't fade on this day."
"…And the guilt," Dante added.
Silence lingered.
Leah's hand brushed against her pocket.
The envelope.
"…I know," she whispered.
A breath.
"…But this will help him."
Dante studied her for a moment.
"…You're certain?"
"…Yes."
No hesitation.
Elias gave a faint smile.
"…Then go."
Dante nodded once.
"…He needs you more than anything today."
Leah nodded.
"…Thank you."
She turned.
Continued down the hall.
Toward his office.
The door stood closed.
Still.
She paused in front of it.
Her hand lifted.
Knocked softly.
Silence.
No response.
A small breath.
"…You're ignoring everything," she murmured.
She opened the door anyway.
Quietly.
Inside—
Izana sat at his desk.
Focused.
Completely absorbed.
Papers spread out.
Ordered.
Precise.
His eyes didn't lift.
Didn't notice her.
Leah stepped inside.
Closed the door.
Soft click.
"…Iz," she said softly.
Nothing.
He kept working.
Unmoving.
A faint smile touched her lips.
"…You're really trying," she whispered.
She walked closer.
Slow.
Careful.
Then—
sat gently on his lap.
That made him pause.
His hand stilled.
His head lifted.
Eyes meeting hers.
A faint smile appeared.
Small.
Soft.
"…Li," he murmured.
"…Do you need something?"
"…Yes," she whispered.
A pause.
"…I have a surprise."
His gaze shifted slightly.
Curious now.
"…A surprise?"
"…Yes."
He studied her face.
"…You've been hiding something."
A small smile.
"…Maybe."
"…And this is it?"
"…Part of it."
A pause.
"…Come with me."
She slipped off his lap.
Held out her hand.
Waiting.
He hesitated.
Just for a moment.
Then—
he took her hand.
Warm.
Steady.
He stood.
"…Where are we going?"
"…Upstairs."
"…That's not an answer."
"…It will be."
A faint exhale left him.
Not annoyed.
Just… curious.
He let her guide him.
Up the stairs.
Through the quiet hallway.
Stopping at the empty room.
The nursery.
She opened the door.
Stepped inside.
Izana followed.
He looked around.
The empty space.
Still.
Waiting.
"…Why are we here?"
His voice quieter now.
Leah turned slowly.
Her hand moved to her pocket.
The envelope.
She pulled it out.
Held it carefully.
Then placed it in his hands.
He looked down at it.
"…What is this?"
"…Open it," she whispered.
A pause.
He didn't move immediately.
His eyes flickered between her and the envelope.
"…You've been hiding this from me."
"…Yes."
"…And now you're giving it to me."
"…Yes."
Another pause.
Then—
he opened it.
Slow.
Careful.
The paper slid out.
He looked at it.
Brows slightly drawn.
Confusion.
"…What is—."
He stopped.
Eyes focusing.
Something shifted.
Recognition.
His breath caught.
"…This…"
A tear slipped free.
Sudden.
Uncontrolled.
He looked up at her.
Eyes wide.
Shining.
"…Leah…"
His voice barely there.
"…Is this true?"
She nodded.
Soft.
Certain.
"…Yes."
Silence.
Heavy.
Then—
he pulled her into his arms.
Careful.
Holding her close.
His face buried into her shoulder.
Nuzzling.
Breathing uneven.
His hand moved.
Resting gently on her stomach.
Warm.
Protective.
"…We…" his voice broke.
"…We've wanted this."
"…I know," she whispered.
He held her tighter.
"…Why didn't you tell me?"
Soft.
Not accusing.
Just… overwhelmed.
"…I wanted today," she whispered.
"…I wanted to give you something good."
A pause.
His grip tightened slightly.
"…You did," he murmured.
"…You gave me everything."
She held him.
Close.
"…How long?" he asked softly.
"…Seven weeks."
He stilled.
"…Seven…"
A breath.
"…And you found out?"
"…Last week."
"…You kept it from me for a week."
"…Yes."
A pause.
"…Was it hard?"
"…Very."
A small exhale left him.
"…It was worth it."
Then—
slowly—
he lowered himself.
Down.
Onto his knees.
Leah's breath caught.
"…Iz…"
His hands rested at her sides.
Gentle.
Careful.
He leaned forward.
Pressed a soft kiss to her stomach.
Lingering.
Then rested his forehead there.
Eyes closed.
His arms wrapped around her.
Holding her.
Holding both of them.
"…Our child…" he whispered.
Voice trembling.
Soft.
Full.
Leah's fingers moved to his hair.
Brushing gently.
"…Yes," she whispered.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
"…I'm… happy," he murmured.
"…So happy."
"…I can see that," she whispered softly.
He stayed there.
Not moving.
"…I didn't think…" he started.
Then stopped.
"…I didn't think I'd have this."
Her hand stilled in his hair.
"…You do now," she whispered.
"…We do."
A pause.
"…You're sure?" he asked quietly.
"…Completely."
Another pause.
"…Then I'll protect you," he whispered.
His arms tightened slightly.
"…Both of you."
Leah smiled softly.
"…We know."
He exhaled slowly.
Still resting against her.
Still holding them.
"…Happy birthday," she whispered gently.
A pause.
His grip tightened.
"…This…"
His voice soft.
"…This is everything."
Leah's fingers brushed through his hair again.
"…I wanted you to have something good today."
"…You gave me more than that," he murmured.
"…You gave me a future."
Silence settled.
Soft.
Full.
He didn't move.
Didn't let go.
Stayed there.
On his knees.
Holding her.
Holding their child.
And for the first time—
he didn't push the day away.
He didn't ignore it.
He didn't hide from it.
He stayed.
Right there.
With her.
With them.
And everything…
had changed.