The fight started small.
It always does.
A missed call. A rescheduled meeting. A headline that pulled Aria's name into a scandal she didn't cause.
And Leon—overworked, overtired, and suddenly silent—shut down.
Aria had seen him angry before. She'd seen him calculated.
But this?
This was colder.
Withdrawn.
Like she was standing outside a door she didn't know how to knock on anymore.
"You didn't defend me," she said quietly, arms crossed, voice tight with restraint.
Leon didn't look up from the scotch he hadn't touched.
"I handled it."
"You buried it. You let the press believe I had something to do with the leak, and you didn't say a word."
His jaw flexed.
"Because if I acknowledged it, they would've twisted it worse."
"I can take being seen, Leon. What I can't take is you pretending I'm invisible."
The silence was sharp.
He set the glass down.
Still didn't look at her.
"You don't understand what it costs," he said flatly.
"I don't care what it costs if it means pretending like I'm disposable."
"You're not."
"Then say something! Fight for me—for us!"
Leon stood.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
And for the first time in a long time, she couldn't read his face.
His voice was low. Controlled.
"You want a fight? Fine."
She flinched.
"You want me to shout? To put a spotlight on you while they drag your name through the dirt? You think love means louder? That if I don't explode in front of cameras, I'm not doing enough?"
Aria stood her ground.
"I think love means not hiding me."
The words sat between them.
Heavy.
Unyielding.
Leon turned away, walking toward the window.
His hands clenched at his sides.
"You said you loved me."
"I still do."
"Even now?"
She swallowed. "Especially now."
He let out a rough breath.
"Then why does it feel like we're always one breath from breaking?"
Aria stepped closer.
"Because you keep waiting for me to leave. And I keep waiting for you to let me stay."
He turned.
And the pain in his eyes undid her.
"This isn't how we end," she said softly.
Leon didn't answer.
Not with words.
But with movement.
One stride.
Then another.
And suddenly, his arms were around her.
Tight.
Fierce.
Desperate.
"You're not disposable," he whispered, voice raw. "You're the only thing I can't lose."
She clung to him.
"Then let them see it."
"I will."
"Say it."
He pulled back just far enough to meet her eyes.
And for once, there was no shield.
No detour.
Just him.
And the truth he'd been carrying like a wound.
"I love you, Aria."
Her breath caught.
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
But her smile didn't falter.
"Good," she whispered. "Now we say it in the dark and the light."
They didn't solve everything that night.
They didn't sign some peace treaty or erase all doubt.
But they stood through the storm.
They didn't walk away.
And when Leon reached for her later, his touch wasn't fire.
It was gravity.
A quiet reminder that they didn't have to be perfect to be chosen.