As soon as Leila steps out of the airport, she turns on her phone. Missed calls flash on her screen—Daim. She calls him back immediately, and he picks up on the first ring, like someone who's been waiting for it forever.
A smile spreads across her face, brighter than she even realizes.
But someone else notices.
"Hi Monkey," she teases in Urdu, her mother tongue.
"Don't you dare call me that, you stick," Daim fires back, clearly irritated.
"Okay, okay… Angry Bird," she laughs. "Tell me—how are you? Are you alright?"
"I'm good. Stop worrying about us all the time."
"How could I not? I never treated you like a younger brother… you've always been like my child. You know that, right?"
"I know, Mother," he says, mockingly.
Leila chuckles, then asks, "Tell me about Baba and Mama."
"Ask them yourself," Daim replies, passing the phone over.
A familiar voice comes through the receiver—gravelly and warm:
"Leila, my life."
Her father.
Leila tilts her head toward the sky, swallowing back a sudden surge of emotion. Her voice shakes when she finally replies, "Baba…"
She composes herself quickly, letting his words anchor her.
Unbeknownst to her, Elias stands at a distance. He doesn't realize how long he's been watching—only that he couldn't look away. He doesn't understand a single word she's saying. But her energy, her expressions, the way her joy dims into a quiet ache—it all pulls at something in him.
She finishes her call and climbs into a cab beside her classmates, now chatting with her mother, assuring her she's safe and comfortable. Her voice softens with every word, like she's gently pulling her mother back from a spiral of worry.
The cab pulls away.
Only then does Elias blink out of his thoughts.
"Get me everything on that girl in thirty minutes," he says.
"Si, Capo," Kai replies without hesitation.
As the cab fades into Milan's late afternoon haze, Elias remains still, his hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his coat.
It wasn't the words that struck him—he understood none of them.
It was her voice.
That strange alchemy of tenderness and command. The shift in her tone when she said Baba. The way she held her emotions without letting them break her. The kind of restraint that only comes from surviving storms.
He's seen diplomats lie with smoother smiles. He's heard spies plead for mercy with more convincing tears.
But this… this was real.
She's just another stranger. A girl with almond eyes and a soft smile. She doesn't know him. He doesn't know her.
And yet, for the first time in years, something—small, unwelcome, impossible—stirs in his guarded chest.
Maybe it's curiosity.
Maybe it's the way her grief looked like his own once did.
Or maybe it's the calm before a storm he doesn't know is coming.
Elias exhales slowly, looking toward the sky she'd searched moments ago.
"She's no one," he tells himself.
But his silence doesn't agree.