The rain had stopped, but its scent clung to the night air, soaking into the quiet house. The living room was dim, lit only by a single lamp near the kitchen where Leo sat, elbows on the table, fingers loosely wrapped around a cooling mug of coffee.
Anita wandered in softly, cardigan draped over her frame, her footsteps light. Her damp curls framed a face drawn with worry.
"You're still up," she said, her voice low as if afraid to disturb something fragile.
Leo didn't look at her at first. Just nodded. "Couldn't sleep."
"Same." She padded to the counter, poured herself some tea, then sat across from him. "She hasn't called."
"She won't. Not yet."
"You think she's okay?" Her voice cracked on the last word.
Leo finally looked at her. "Physically? Probably. Emotionally?" He let out a breath. "Steph's strong, but sometimes she doesn't know how to be soft with herself. She breaks and doesn't even notice the pieces falling."
Anita swallowed hard, staring at the swirling tea. "And Nathan? Is he the kind of man who would help her pick those pieces up… or crush the ones still standing?"
Leo's brow furrowed, jaw tightening. "That's what I don't know. That's what scares me."
"She trusts him. Against her better judgment."
"She does," Leo admitted. "And she's not stupid. But…" He paused, as if trying to find the right words. "Love makes people stupid in ways intelligence can't fix."
Anita nodded slowly, her voice softer now. "I saw the way she looked at him at the hospital. Even through the anger and confusion… there was something more. And the way he looked at her…"
Leo raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
Anita hesitated. "It was like… he'd already lost her once. And couldn't afford to do it again."
Leo studied her. "That poetic crap always sounds pretty, but I've seen men cling to what they break. Doesn't make them whole."
A pause. Then Anita murmured, "You trust him?"
Leo's jaw ticked. "I don't know him well enough to trust him. But I know my sister. And I know when she's walking into a fire because she's trying to rescue someone who won't even scream."
Anita let out a quiet sigh. "She's always been like that, huh?"
He gave a sad smile. "Yeah. Ever since we were kids. She took care of me when Mom left. Then again when Dad died. Always the shield. Always the one standing in front of everything."
"Even her own pain."
Leo nodded. "Especially her pain."
Anita watched him for a moment. His profile looked harder in the dim kitchen light—older than his years. But the boyish traces of the little brother still showed around his mouth, in the softness of his eyes when he spoke of his sister.
"She misses your dad," Anita said quietly.
"I do too," Leo murmured. "Every day."
There was silence again, but this one had weight. It brought memories.
"I still remember the last thing he told me before he left that day," Leo whispered. "He said to take care of Steph. That she acts like steel, but she's softer inside than she wants anyone to know."
Anita reached across the table and laid her hand over his. "You've done a good job, Leo. He'd be proud."
"I don't feel like I have," Leo said, his voice cracking. "I wasn't there when she needed me most. I didn't even know she and Mom got caught in that mess until afterward. And now everything's twisted up."
Anita's expression softened. "You're allowed to be scared. But Steph called you. She still trusts you."
He nodded slowly. "I'm going to the police station tomorrow. I want to file a report. Get answers. Who came after her. Who hurt Mom. Because this doesn't feel like some random act, Anita."
"You think it was planned?" she asked, worry tugging her voice.
"I don't know," Leo admitted. "But I want to see the footage. Talk to someone. I don't care if I have to push. I'm not letting this go quiet."
"Good," Anita said. "She shouldn't be the only one carrying it."
Leo glanced at her, eyes searching. "Why are you still here?"
Anita blinked. "You mean in this house or… in general?"
He smirked faintly. "In this house. With us. With all this."
She shrugged, staring into her tea. "Because I care. About Steph.About you.Because I love you.
This family's a little cracked, Leo—But it's still a family."
He leaned back, watching her. "You're stronger than you look, you know that?"
"I get that a lot," she said with a smirk. "Usually after someone tries me."
Leo chuckled. "Steph picked well with you."
"She didn't pick me," Anita said with a smile. "I forced my way in."
"I think we're better for it."
Their eyes lingered on each other, quiet warmth blooming in the silence.
Anita nudged her mug. "So, what's the plan tomorrow? You file the report and then what?"
"Hope the cops care," Leo muttered. "And maybe drag Nathan in for questioning."
Anita raised an eyebrow. "I'd pay to see that."
Leo chuckled again. "Me too. Though he'd probably stare me down until I questioned my entire existence."
Anita grinned. "He's got that moody billionaire energy."
"Exactly," Leo said. "Like he drinks his coffee with secrets and regret."
She laughed, the sound light in the heavy kitchen air. "You're funny when you're angry."
"I'm funny all the time. You just don't appreciate me."
"Oh I do," she said, standing and stretching. "Even more now that I know you pick horrible curtains."
Leo stood too, raising a brow. "Still on the curtains?"
"They're a crime against taste."
"They're vintage!"
"They're floral aggression."
He laughed. "Alright, alright. Go to bed before you roast the wallpaper too."
Anita started toward the stairs, but Leo followed her and gently tugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders.
He paused. "Thanks for staying. Really."
She smiled. "Anytime."
He paused. "Night, Nita."
She looked back, eyes soft. "Goodnight, sweetheart."
That surprised him—but not in a bad way.
He waited until she disappeared up the stairs before he returned to the kitchen, staring into his now-cold coffee.
The house was quiet. But outside, the storm hadn't ended. It had only changed shape.