Leon didn't plan to linger in the hallway.
But something in him refused to walk further — like his feet knew the weight of the conversation waiting behind him. So he leaned against the wall, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the linoleum floor like it held the answers he still couldn't name.
Then the door creaked open behind him.
Damien stepped out.
The air thickened instantly.
Neither man spoke at first. The corridor buzzed faintly — machines, footsteps, murmured phone calls in the distance — but between them, there was only the low thrum of blame.
Damien broke the silence first.
"You called her."
Leon didn't deny it. "Yes."
"She told me." Damien's tone was tight. Controlled. "Said you claimed to know who she was. Said you needed to see her."
Leon nodded slowly. "Because I did. I still do."
Damien stepped closer. His voice dipped. "You said the one thing that would pull her out of peace. You knew that. And you did it anyway."
"I needed the truth," Leon said.
"No," Damien snapped. "You needed your truth. And now she's in a coma."
Leon's gaze finally lifted, sharp and unwavering. "So what, Damien? We were all supposed to keep lying to her? Let her keep living in a name that never belonged to her?"
"She was happy," Damien said through his teeth. "Maybe for the first time in her life. And you dragged her right back into the storm."
"She was already in it," Leon countered. "She just didn't know. You think that's peace? That's a cage painted gold."
Damien stepped forward, just enough to close the space between them.
"I gave her a way out. I gave her choice."
"And I gave her truth," Leon said. "Even if it broke her."
They stood like that — unmoving, breathing the same burning air — until Leon's voice softened. Not weak. Just honest.
"I never meant for her to get hurt."
"Doesn't matter," Damien said. "She did."
A long silence stretched between them.
Leon looked away. "I'm doing the DNA test."
"I know," Damien replied coldly. "And if she wakes up and you're wrong…"
"I'm not."
"And if you are," Damien repeated, "you better be ready to lose her."
Leon didn't flinch. "If it's the truth… then it's hers to keep. Not mine to twist."
They stared at each other — not as rivals, not as enemies — but as two men standing in the aftermath of the same fire.
Both had tried to protect her.
Both had failed in different ways.
And now, all they could do was wait.