The morning air was cold against his bare skin.
Levi blinked awake, unmoving for a moment, just staring up at the ceiling. No sound. No voices. Just the silence he preferred. He sat up slowly, rubbing a hand down his face.
His bed looked untouched—just the side he used slightly creased. The rest of the room was as clean and cold as ever. His fingers reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, but instead, they brushed against paper.
He ignored it for now.
First, he got up, crossed the marble floor, and stepped into the bathroom. He didn't turn on the lights—didn't need to. He could see well enough. Water ran. He brushed his teeth in silence, staring at the mirror. For a second, his eyes locked on his own reflection.
Expressionless. Distant. Like always.
A faint cut still showed near his jawline, not fully healed. He didn't remember where he got it. Maybe last week. Maybe before that. Didn't matter.
He rinsed his mouth, wiped his hands on the towel, and walked back out—eyes falling on the paper again.
Levi reached for it this time. The paper was folded once, no seal, no envelope. Just a rough sheet. He opened it, expecting nonsense. Instead, what greeted him was a note written in messy, uneven handwriting.
> At the garden. Don't worry about me, I won't disturb today.
And... thanks for last night's meal. The fever's gone.
—Xandria.
He stared at the signature. Xandria.
A smirk pulled at the edge of his lips, uninvited but real.
So she liked it when he called her that.
Xandria.
The full name was Alexandria, but he had shortened it once—out of irritation, not affection. She hadn't corrected him. In fact, she'd leaned into it, like she liked the way it sounded in his voice.
He folded the letter slowly, fingers brushing over her handwriting again.
Childish. Clumsy. Honest.
That was her.
He slipped the paper into the drawer and closed it without a sound. Then he turned toward the window, pushed the curtains open, and let the morning light spill in.
She was in the garden?
He didn't ask her to go there. Didn't even expect a thank-you for the soup.
But she wrote it anyway.
Levi rolled his neck slightly, the stiffness fading.
He'd go see her. Not yet. But soon.
Let her think she had peace for a while.
*****
She knelt in the dirt, pulling out another carrot with both hands.
The soil gave easily. She dropped it into the small wooden crate beside her and wiped her fingers on her dress. It was already stained. She didn't care.
The garden was quiet. Peaceful.
For once, no one was yelling. No one was calling her useless. No one was staring at her like a burden.
She let out a slow breath and sat back on her heels. A strand of hair stuck to her cheek. She pushed it away and looked around. Rows of vegetables, trimmed hedges, the scent of wet earth.
It was the only place in this house that didn't feel like it belonged to Levi.
Her eyes landed on the broken carrot she'd accidentally snapped in half. She picked it up, studied it, then let out a small laugh. "Figures," she muttered. "Even the carrots don't survive me."
She reached for another, hands working faster now. Anything to stay busy. She didn't want to think too much.
Especially not about last night.
The soup. The way he'd watched her with that unreadable look. Like he was trying not to feel anything. Like it annoyed him that she was even sick.
But he stayed.
She'd left the note this morning before sneaking out. Just a few words. She didn't even know if he'd read it.
Still, part of her hoped he had.
Something shifted behind her. A soft sound. Not loud—but enough.
Alexa froze.
She didn't turn around yet. Just kept her eyes on the carrot still in her hand.
She could feel it. That presence.
Heavy. Cold. Familiar.
He was watching her again.
She didn't move.
Didn't need to turn to know it was him.
Then—
"Is this what you do now?"
His voice. Low, unreadable. Somewhere behind her.
Alexa swallowed and finally looked over her shoulder.
Levi stood a few feet away, dressed in black again. Hands in his pockets. Watching her with that same calm, unsettling stare.
She blinked. "What do you mean?"
He took a slow step forward, eyes dropping to the crate of carrots.
"Digging in the dirt," he said. "Is that your new hobby?"
Alexa sat up straighter. "I didn't think I needed permission to touch the ground."
He didn't smile. Didn't frown either. Just kept looking at her like she was some puzzle he hadn't figured out yet.
"I read the note," he said quietly.
She bit her lip. "Right. I just… didn't want to be in the way."
"You already are," he said.
The words landed like a slap—but his voice was too calm for it to be cruel. He didn't mean it as an insult. Just a fact.
She looked down. "I didn't want to disturb you."
"You didn't."
A pause.
"I'm just not used to thank you notes. Or names signed with hearts."
Her face turned warm. "There was no heart."
His brow lifted slightly. "Might as well have been."
She looked away, grabbing another carrot just to have something to do with her hands.
Levi stepped closer but stopped at the edge of the garden bed. "Why Xandria?"
Alexa hesitated. Then, still not meeting his eyes, she said, "You're the only one who calls me that. I don't know... it doesn't sound like I'm being scolded."
There was a silence after that. A long one.
Then she heard his voice again, quieter this time.
"Get up."
She looked up, confused. "What?"
"Come with me," he said. "You've played farmer long enough."
She stared at him for a second.
"Let me finish first," she said, brushing dirt off her palms. "These aren't going to pull themselves."
Levi didn't move. "I wasn't asking."
She met his eyes then. That cold stare again. Always like stone.
But she didn't look away this time.
After a breath, she stood. "Fine," she muttered. "I'll be your obedient little shadow for the day."
She bent down, grabbed one of the carrots, and shoved it into his hand on the way past.
"For your attitude," she said without looking back.
His fingers closed around it without protest.
She didn't hear a laugh. Not even a breath. But something told her he was amused.
Maybe just a little.
They walked in silence through the garden path. Her steps behind his—always behind.
Still, she kept her chin up. She wasn't sure where he was taking her, or what mood he'd be in when they got there, but one thing was clear:
The fever was gone. The food worked. And whatever this strange thing between them was… it wasn't over.
Not even close.
****
The house felt colder the moment they stepped inside.
Levi didn't say a word as he led the way through the quiet hallway. His footsteps echoed. Hers followed softer behind, trying to match his pace without looking like she was trying.
They entered the dining room.
A long table already set. Warm food. Coffee. Bread. Eggs. Things she hadn't touched in weeks.
He pulled out a chair and looked at her.
Just looked.
She hesitated, then walked over and sat down.
He didn't sit across from her. Instead, he took the seat beside her—close enough that she could feel it. That quiet presence again. The way he filled space without effort.
She reached for the bread.
"Eat," he said, before her fingers touched it.
She paused. "I was planning to."
He poured himself coffee like he didn't hear her.
Alexa grabbed a slice anyway and took a bite. It was soft, warm, slightly sweet. Her stomach woke up before she did.
Levi finally spoke.
"I don't like people sneaking around my house."
She swallowed, carefully. "I wasn't sneaking."
"You left a note."
"To avoid hearing you call me a burden first thing in the morning," she muttered.
He took a sip of his coffee, then leaned back in his chair, watching her like he was reading a file.
"You think I don't already know what you are?" he asked.
Her heart twisted—but she kept her face calm. "What do you think I am?"
He didn't answer.
Just reached into his pocket.
And placed the carrot she gave him earlier on the table.
Right in front of her plate.
She blinked.
He looked down at it, then said without emotion, "Next time, wash it first."
Alexa stared at him. Then let out the smallest laugh. It escaped before she could stop it.
He didn't smile. Of course not.
But his next words were lower, quieter.
"You still have a fever."
She looked at him. "It's gone."
"I'll decide when it's gone."
His tone left no room for argument.
She didn't speak again. Just went back to eating, slowly.
But in her chest, something stirred.
He noticed. He watched. He cared.
Even if he'd never admit it.
She was halfway through her bread when the front doors creaked open somewhere in the house.
Footsteps.
Not heavy, not loud. But each one landed like a quiet warning.
Then—
Skye stepped into the dining room.
Tall. Lean. Dressed in dark grey with gloves on and a familiar cold stare. The one he'd used the first time he'd threatened her—without shouting, without moving, just with his presence.
"Boss," he said with a slight nod toward Levi.
His eyes shifted. Landed on her.
The corner of his mouth lifted. Not a smile. Just mockery.
"Oh," he drawled, "the little pet's still here."
Alexa stiffened.
Levi didn't respond right away. He sat back, expression unreadable.
"Didn't expect her to last this long," Skye continued, walking closer like he had every right to be in that room. "She looks better fed now. Did she earn that meal or just beg for it?"
Alexa dropped her fork.
Skye's eyes flicked to the sound. He looked amused.
"Careful," he murmured. "Wouldn't want to lose your place at the table."
"Skye," Levi said finally.
One word. Calm, but sharp.
Skye stopped talking instantly.
Levi didn't look at him. Just picked up his coffee again.
"You came here for something. Say it."
Skye straightened. His voice turned business-like, but his eyes never left Alexa.
"We've got movement. The ones from last week—they're circling again. Waiting for a slip."
Levi's eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent.
Skye continued. "Want me to handle it?"
Alexa sat frozen. She didn't know what they were talking about. But the way Skye said "handle" made her skin crawl.
Levi finally spoke, low and measured. "We'll talk in the study. She stays here."
Skye's eyes lingered on her one last time before he turned.
"I'll be waiting."
And just like that, he disappeared into the hallway, his presence lingering like smoke.
Alexa looked down at her plate.
No longer hungry.