Morning came softly.
Light filtered through the curtains.
Warmer than before.
Gentler.
The room was quiet.
Still.
Leah was awake.
Lying on her side.
Facing him.
Izana's arm was still around her.
Holding her close.
Even in sleep.
His breathing slow.
Steady.
Unaware.
Her eyes traced his face.
Careful.
Quiet.
Like she didn't want to disturb anything.
Her fingers moved slightly.
Resting lightly against his chest.
Then—
lower.
Slow.
Unconscious.
Her hand settled over her stomach.
A small pause.
A soft breath.
Her lips curved faintly.
"…Six weeks…"
Barely a whisper.
He didn't move.
Didn't wake.
She looked at him again.
Longer this time.
There was something different in her eyes now.
Something deeper.
Softer.
He shifted slightly in his sleep.
His hold tightening for a moment.
Pulling her closer.
Instinct.
Always instinct.
Her breath caught softly.
Then settled again.
"…You don't know…"
Quiet.
Almost thoughtful.
She stayed there for a moment longer.
Just watching him.
Then slowly—
carefully—
she moved.
Slipping out from his arms.
Gentle.
So he wouldn't wake.
He stirred slightly.
But didn't open his eyes.
She paused.
Waited.
Then stood.
The room still warm behind her.
Still quiet.
She glanced back once.
He was still there.
Still sleeping.
She left the room softly.
The door closing behind her.
Quiet.
The hallway stretched ahead.
Empty.
Morning silence.
She moved slowly.
Not rushing.
One hand resting lightly against the wall.
Grounding.
Her other hand—
resting over her stomach again.
Unthinking.
Natural now.
She reached the main hall.
Sunlight filled the space.
Soft.
Golden.
"…Leah."
She turned slightly.
Elias stood near the stairs.
Watching her.
Observing.
Always observant.
"…You're up early."
A small pause.
"…So are you."
His gaze didn't shift.
Didn't soften.
Just stayed on her.
Careful.
Measuring.
"…You look different."
The words were simple.
But they landed.
She hesitated.
Just slightly.
"…Do I?"
"…Yes."
A pause.
He stepped closer.
Slow.
"…Not tired."
Another step.
"…Not unwell."
He stopped in front of her.
"…Something else."
Silence settled.
Leah looked at him quietly.
Then away.
Her hand moved slightly against her stomach.
Then stilled.
Elias noticed.
Of course he did.
His expression shifted.
Subtle.
Understanding forming before words did.
"…Leah."
Softer now.
A pause.
She hesitated again.
Then—
a breath.
"…I went to the medical corridor yesterday."
He didn't interrupt.
Didn't rush her.
Just waited.
"…They ran some tests."
Another pause.
Her fingers curled slightly.
Then relaxed.
"…And?"
Quiet.
Careful.
She looked at him again.
This time—
steady.
"…I'm pregnant."
Silence.
Just for a second.
Then—
something shifted.
Elias's expression softened.
Fully this time.
Warmth replacing sharp observation.
"…I see."
A small breath left him.
Almost a quiet laugh.
Not loud.
Not overwhelming.
Just… genuine.
"…Well."
Another pause.
His lips curved slightly.
"…That's good news."
Leah blinked slightly.
"…You're not surprised?"
"…I noticed."
Simple.
She exhaled softly.
"…I didn't know how to tell anyone."
"…You just did."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"…I guess I did."
A pause.
"…He doesn't know?"
She shook her head slowly.
"…No."
Silence.
Elias watched her carefully again.
"…You haven't told him."
"…Not yet."
"…Why?"
She hesitated.
Longer this time.
"…I don't know when to."
A breath.
"…I keep thinking there's a right moment."
Her gaze lowered slightly.
"…But it never feels like it."
Another pause.
"…And now…"
She didn't finish.
Didn't need to.
Elias understood.
"…You're waiting."
"…Yes."
"…For the right time."
"…Yes."
A small silence settled.
Then—
"…His birthday is soon."
Leah looked up quickly.
"…What?"
"…About a week."
A pause.
"…You didn't know."
It wasn't a question.
She shook her head.
"…No."
A small frown formed.
"…He never told me."
"…He wouldn't."
Simple.
Expected.
"…When is it?"
"…March eighteenth."
She went still for a moment.
Thinking.
Processing.
Then—
something shifted behind her eyes.
A quiet idea forming.
Slowly.
Carefully.
"…A week…"
Soft.
"…That's enough time."
Elias watched her.
Not interrupting.
Just observing.
"…You're planning something."
She looked at him again.
A small smile forming.
"…Maybe."
A pause.
"…I think… I want to tell him then."
Another pause.
"…Properly."
Elias nodded once.
Slow.
Approving.
"…He'll remember that."
"…I hope so."
"…He will."
Silence settled again.
Warm this time.
Different.
"…Thank you," she said softly.
"…For telling me."
Elias inclined his head slightly.
"…Of course."
A pause.
"…Take care of yourself."
His gaze dropped briefly.
To her hand.
Still resting there.
Then back up.
"…Both of you."
Her expression softened.
"…I will."
She turned slightly.
Moving away.
Slow.
Thoughtful.
The idea stayed with her.
Growing.
Becoming real.
She moved through the halls again.
This time—
with purpose.
The medical corridor came into view.
Bright.
Quiet.
She stepped inside.
A nurse looked up.
"…Can I help you?"
Leah hesitated for a second.
Then—
"…Yesterday… I had an ultrasound."
The nurse nodded.
"…Yes."
"…Is there any way I could get a picture?"
A small pause.
"…We usually save a screenshot."
Leah's breath caught slightly.
"…You do?"
"…Yes."
A faint smile.
"…I can print it for you."
"…Thank you."
The nurse nodded and stepped away.
Leah remained there.
Still.
Waiting.
The room was quiet again.
Soft hum of machines in the distance.
Time stretching slightly.
Her hand moved.
Resting over her stomach again.
Gentle.
Careful.
Her thumb brushed lightly.
Slow.
"…Hi…"
Barely a whisper.
A small smile formed.
Soft.
Real.
"…I guess it's just us for now."
A quiet breath.
"…But not for long."
She exhaled softly.
Eyes lowering.
Then lifting again.
The nurse returned.
Holding a small sheet of paper.
"…Here."
Leah took it carefully.
Like it was fragile.
Like it mattered.
Because it did.
Her eyes dropped to it.
And stayed.
A small image.
Grainy.
Unclear to anyone else.
But to her—
everything.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the edges.
Not enough to crease it.
Just enough to hold it.
"…Thank you."
"…You're welcome."
Leah nodded softly.
Then turned.
Leaving the corridor.
The picture held carefully in her hands.
Close.
Protected.
As she walked back—
her steps were slower.
More thoughtful.
Her mind already moving ahead.
A week.
Seven days.
Enough time.
To plan.
To prepare.
To tell him.
Properly.
Her fingers brushed lightly over the image again.
A small smile forming.
Quiet.
Soft.
Certain.
And for the first time—
it felt like she knew
when.