Layla’s footsteps echoed sharply against the stone path as she stormed away from General Leonard’s quarters.

She took a step. Then another.

She deliberately made it too loud, too fast and too angry.

Too unlike her.

The early evening air had cooled, but it did nothing to settle the restless heat in her chest. She hugged her arms lightly, as if holding herself together.

The guards stationed nearby stiffened slightly at her passing, but none dared to look up. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Behind her, Summer followed at an unhurried and measured pace.

She was not catching up or falling behind.

Just... there.

"Layla..."

Summer’s voice came soft, almost blending into the breeze.

Layla slowed, then stopped. For a moment, she didn’t turn.

Summer’s voice drifted gently through the tension, like a hand reaching out but never quite touching.

Layla’s shoulders rose and fell once before she turned around.

"Summer," she said, her frustration slipping through despite her effort to contain it. "Is it just me...?" she asked finally.

That alone was enough to draw Summer’s full attention.

"Why does it feel like my brothers are treating me differently this time?"

A small pause.

Summer tilted her head slightly, as if considering the question with care.

As always, she wore that same soft expression—gentle eyes, a warm, reassuring smile.

Perfect. Just too perfect.

"I didn’t notice anything obvious," she said gently. "They seemed the same."

Then, more quietly—

"But... you know them better than I do."

She didn’t step closer.

She let the words sit where they landed.

If Layla had looked closer—just a little closer—she might have noticed the stillness behind that smile.

The calculation.

"Perhaps they’re just busy. You know how they get when it comes to serious matters."

Layla’s brows drew together.

"No..." she murmured, her voice quieter now, uncertain. "It’s not just that."

Layla’s gaze dropped.

"They used to..." she began, then stopped, searching for something she couldn’t quite name. "I don’t know."

Her fingers tightened against her sleeve.

"They used to make time. Even when they were busy."

Summer’s expression softened—not with pity, but with understanding.

"That makes sense," she said. "You’ve always been important to them."

Layla’s gaze drifted past Summer, unfocused—searching memory instead of the present.

"They used to..." she trailed off, lips pressing together. "They used to dote on me more."

Layla’s lips pressed together. "...Then why did it feel like I was intruding just now?"

She didn’t sound angry anymore. Just... unsettled.

The silence that followed was brief, and Summer didn’t rush to fill it.

Instead, her eyes flickered. A subtle shift. A spark.

There it is.

Summer let out a quiet breath, as if weighing whether to speak. She stepped closer, lowering her voice just enough to feel like a secret.

"It might not be about you," she said carefully. "Sometimes when people are focused on something serious, they don’t realize how they come across."

A reasonable answer.

Layla didn’t look convinced.

"They’ve had serious matters before," she said. "That’s never stopped them."

Summer’s eyes glinted again briefly—sharp, then gone.

She looked away, as if thinking.

"There has been a lot of change recently," she said after a moment, her tone still light. "New responsibilities... new people..."

Layla’s head lifted slightly.

"New people?"

Summer blinked, as if surprised she’d said too much.

"It’s probably unrelated," she added quickly, a faint, almost self-conscious smile appearing. "I’m just thinking out loud."

Layla didn’t let it go. "Who?"

A pause. Not long but deliberate.

"...Larissa, maybe?" Summer replied, as if it had only just occurred to her. "Ever since she was taken in as a goddaughter... things have been a little different around the household."

She glanced back at Layla.

Not watching closely. Just enough to show her attention.

"I could be wrong," she added softly. "It’s just a feeling."

Layla went still.

The name settled into her thoughts, quiet but persistent.

"They do spend time with her," Layla murmured, almost to herself.

Summer didn’t respond immediately. Silence did the work for her.

After a moment, she gave a small, thoughtful nod.

"She’s new," Summer said. "It’s natural they’d pay attention to her. "But..." she continued lightly, "I suppose it feels different from your side."

Her words were reasonable, kind, and unthreatening.

It was not accusatory but somehow suggestive.

Layla’s chest tightened.

She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.

"I’m not saying anything is wrong," Summer added gently. "Families shift priorities sometimes. It doesn’t always mean something bad."

Another safe statement.

But it didn’t erase the thought; it stabilized it. It made it easier to accept.

Layla looked away, her expression distant again.

"...Maybe I’m just overthinking."

"Maybe," Summer agreed softly.

She was not confirming but not denying either. Just... leaving the door open.

They stood there for a moment in the flickering light of a nearby lamp post.

Then Summer smiled—warmer and brighter.

"We should head back," she said lightly. "Dinner will get cold."

Layla nodded.

But as she turned to walk, her steps were slower this time.

Quieter.

Her thoughts no longer scattered, but circling.

Fixating.

And behind her, just for a brief moment—

Summer’s smile lingered.

It was wider until it turned into a grin.

"Your father and brothers would surely love your cooking."

Layla looked up immediately.

"Really?"

Summer hesitated—just enough to make it believable.

"Of course," she added, glancing away, as if reluctant. "You spent a lot of time preparing the ingredients and simmering the pork. They would soon forget about Larissa once they tasted it."

That was all it took.

Layla’s expression tightened.

"Summer."

Summer turned back to her, as though reluctantly conceding.

Her smile remained.

But her eyes no longer softened it.

"I didn’t think much of it at first," she continued, her tone gentle, almost sympathetic. "But now that you’ve pointed it out..."

She let the sentence linger.

Unfinished.

Dangerous.

Layla’s fingers curled at her sides.

Her earlier frustration began to shift—twisting into something sharper.

Something more personal.

Layla’s chest tightened.

"No," she said quickly, but it lacked conviction. "They wouldn’t—"

Wouldn’t what?

Replace her?

Forget her?

Summer stepped closer, her voice dropping into something almost intimate.

"I’m sure it’s nothing intentional," she murmured. "But sometimes... people don’t realize when their priorities change."

That did it.

Layla’s silence stretched.

Her thoughts, once scattered, now began to align. Not toward clarity, but toward doubt.

And doubt, once planted, didn’t need much to grow.

Summer watched her carefully.

Quietly. Patiently.

Behind her gentle smile, satisfaction flickered.

Good, she thought.

Now all you need... is a little push.