The medical room was quiet except for the soft hum of machines and the occasional beep of monitors. The sedative kept the curse in check, but it had left Izana's body fragile, his chest rising and falling slowly, muscles stiff, still recovering from the violent strain earlier.
Leah had stayed. All night, she'd stayed, perched in the worn armchair beside his bed, eyes drooping, hands folded loosely in her lap. She hadn't moved, hadn't slept properly—just stayed near him, listening to his shallow breaths, her presence a steady anchor in the small, sterile room.
Now, in the dim glow of early morning, the monitors whispered that he was stirring. His eyelids fluttered open slowly, and the first thing he registered was light. Harsh, unforgiving, stabbing behind his eyes, and for a moment he groaned, trying to retreat into the fog of sedation.
But the blindfold was gone.
The world was sharp and painfully vivid. And through the blur of pain, through the sting and the haze, he saw her.
Leah.
She hadn't stirred. Her head was tilted slightly, chin tucked toward her chest, eyelashes casting faint shadows over her cheeks. Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders. She looked so small, so delicate, asleep in the armchair, and yet so impossibly alive.
Green eyes met blue. His met hers, though she hadn't yet woken. And for the first time, without the blindfold to dim or distort her presence, he saw her clearly. Every line of her face, every subtle shift of her breathing, every quiet curve of her lips.
"I…" His voice came out hoarse, a rasp in the silence. "Leah."
Her eyes cracked open. Just the faintest blink. She focused immediately, catching the voice, the sound of him awake. Her sleep-heavy blue eyes sharpened as they landed on his, and her breath hitched ever so slightly.
"You're awake," she whispered, voice still soft and unsteady.
He tried to sit up, but his body protested—muscles stiff, bones weak, chest sore from hours of tension. The chains at his wrists reminded him of his fragility. Still, he pushed himself upright slowly, careful, wary. The light bit at him, sharp, but he forced himself to look at her.
And in that moment, fully awake, fully seeing her for the first time—he noticed everything.
Her hair, a soft halo around her face. Her skin, pale but warm. Her eyes, the most vivid shade of blue he'd ever seen. And the way her lips parted slightly, startled, as though she hadn't realized the full weight of being seen.
"You…" His voice cracked, but he forced the words out. "You're… beautiful."
The second time he'd said it. The first time had been muffled, tentative, blurred behind the blindfold. This time, he could see her. Really see her. And the weight of the words, finally clear, landed on her fully.
Her cheeks flushed crimson, and she turned her face slightly, trying to hide it—but not fast enough. Her lips trembled, a soft laugh escaping, caught somewhere between disbelief and embarrassment.
"W-What?" she whispered, voice catching.
"I…" He struggled for words, muscles still weak, chest aching. "I mean… I can see you… and…" His breath hitched. "You're… beautiful."
She blinked at him, caught between laughter and awe, and her blue eyes shone with unspoken emotion. Her hands twitched, as if she wanted to reach for him but remembered the restraints.
"Izana… you don't have to—"
"No," he interrupted softly, his green eyes holding hers. "I… I'm not saying it for anyone else. Just… for me. You're… beautiful."
Her chest tightened. She felt heat rising to her cheeks again. "You really don't waste words, do you?" she murmured, voice barely audible, a smile tugging at her lips.
He let himself lean slightly, just enough to catch the curve of her expression, just enough to let the connection anchor him. His chest ached—not from pain, not from the chains, not from exhaustion—but from the weight of seeing her, truly seeing her, and being seen in return.
"Light… hurts," he admitted, eyes squinting against the room's brightness, green flecks catching the soft glow of the monitors. "But I… I want to look at you."
"You can," Leah said gently, moving her hand slowly to rest on the bed, just within reach. "I'm here. You're safe. You don't have to do anything except breathe. That's all you need to do right now."
He blinked through the pain, letting the harsh light fill his vision, letting it sharpen the edges of her face. Every detail of her was more vivid, more grounding, more real than he'd imagined possible.
"I…" His voice faltered. "I've never… really seen you."
"Now you have," she replied softly. Her blue eyes shimmered with both relief and awe, catching his gaze in a way that made the room feel smaller, warmer, safer. "And I see you. Fully. Green eyes and all."
He let himself breathe, shaky but deliberate, and as he did, the monitors whispered their relief. Heart rate steadying. Breath evening out. Muscles relaxing just a fraction.
"You… you're here," he said finally, green eyes still locked on hers. "Even… even after…"
"I'm not going anywhere," she said immediately, her voice firm but soft. "Not now. Not ever. I promise."
The curse still lingered at the edges of his mind, but it didn't reach him fully. Not yet. Not while she was here. Not while her presence, her voice, and now the clarity of her form anchored him.
"Izana… you did well just waking up," she whispered, reaching one hand toward him carefully, keeping it just above the bed. "You're stronger than you think. Stronger than this room, stronger than the curse. And you're alive. That's what matters."
He blinked, green eyes searching hers, the faint sting of light still sharp but tolerable, the heat of her presence steadying him. "Alive… and I can see you," he whispered.
Leah smiled softly, unable to hide the flush that still lingered across her cheeks. "Yes. You can. And I can see you too."
For a long moment, they just looked at each other, suspended between exhaustion, relief, and something deeper, unspoken. He didn't move closer—not yet—but the bond was there, unbreakable, tethered by sight and voice and the quiet understanding of survival.
For now, seeing her—truly seeing her—was enough.