Leon Kennedy

Chapter XXXI

Sunday arrived with that strange heaviness that comes after a day too perfect to follow.
The whole house still carried traces of yesterday—half-opened snack wrappers from the amusement park stuffed in a bag by the door, Leon's jacket draped over the couch where Leona had taken it and used it as a blanket, the two bears sitting in the living room like oversized guardians.

Ada's giant bear occupied half the sofa with a kind of smug presence, its pastel fur catching sunlight from the blinds. Leon's smaller bear—though still large enough to shadow Adam—was propped neatly beside it. Together, they looked ridiculous. Sentimental. Soft.

Too soft for Ada's house, Leon thought. But he also thought it fit.

The twins woke up buzzing with leftover excitement, racing down the stairs still in their pajamas, arguing whether cotton candy tasted better than churros.

Leon followed more slowly, hands shoved into the pockets of the sweatpants he kept in his car for emergencies—though he would never admit he kept them hoping for emergencies that required staying over.

Ada was already awake.

Her hair was tied in a low, loose knot, a mug of coffee cooling on the table, her laptop open with several windows already running. She wore a simple oversized shirt and joggers, something comfortable, something that suggested she expected to be sitting for a long time.

But her posture said everything.

Straight spine. Focused eyes. A stillness that wasn't tiredness—it was concentration. Pure, razor-edged concentration.

Leon didn't have to ask to know she was working. And not on anything mundane.

The instinctive chill that followed—too faint to name but impossible to ignore—settled deep into his stomach.

He knew this Ada.
The Ada who vanished behind a wall.
The Ada who didn't speak unless necessary.
The Ada who became unreadable because her mind was already somewhere else—somewhere dangerous.

He didn't comment.

Instead, he murmured a "Morning," to her, got a soft "Mm," in reply, and turned his attention to the twins.

"Dad!" Leona called from the kitchen as she grabbed cereal. "Will you stay here again?"

Leon blinked. "It's Sunday, Leona. Don't you guys have school tomorrow?"

"But today is still weekend," she argued immediately, puffing her cheeks in indignation. "And we're not done with family stuff."

"We already did a lot of family stuff," Adam added from the fridge, voice muffled as he looked for the yogurt he hid from Leona.

Leon fought the smile tightening his lips. He glanced at Ada instead.

She didn't look up from her screen, but she spoke clearly. "They're right. You can stay if you want. The nanny's gone for three days. It'll be easier with an extra adult."

Her tone was casual. So casual it almost fooled him.

Almost.

But there was something in the way she didn't raise her head.
Something in her hand that tightened around the mug.
Something in the fact she offered without hesitation.

Leon felt something warm—unsteady, but warm—settle in his chest.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Okay. I'll stay."

Leona sprinted toward him with the speed of a missile and tackled his waist in a hug. Adam pretended to be calm, but his small smile gave him away.

Ada didn't turn, but he saw the smallest shift in her shoulders.
Something like relief.
Something like—