Leo didn’t ask about the medical machines or the sterile environment. When he first saw Anya, motionless in her specialized bed, he didn’t appear scared or sad. He simply sat on the floor nearby, took out his crayons and paper, and began to draw. He wasn’t trying to help or fix anything; he was just present, coloring silently.
Eleanor, at first wary of the boy, soon found himself watching Leo. The child moved through the mansion with a quiet grace, always observing, never breaking a rule, and never demanding attention. He often returned to Anya’s room, drawing, humming, or simply playing with his broken toys on the floor. Leo treated Anya like any other person; he greeted her loudly and told her about the beetles in the garden or the number of birds on the roof. He brought her his most treasured, albeit broken, possessions and showed them to her. There were no expectations, no pressure, just companionship.