The whistle of a kettle was what woke Isanna from her thoughts.

Flinching, it took her a few moments to remember where she was and what she was doing, and

when it finally clicked, quickly moved to turn the stove off with a soft clack.

A trickling silence followed her motion, so quiet that she thought she'd gone deaf. She leaned against the kitchen counter and craned her neck upward, ruminating while gazing at the ceiling. One quick glance outside the window told her it was already 6 PM, the house lights across the street glowing bright amidst the dark-growing skies and the distant honking of cars penetrating the neighborhood every once in a while.

Isanna opted to bring her attention back and continue preparing dinner. It was a task that served two purpose for her: for dinner (obviously), and a means of distraction from her thoughts. The methodical manner of moving ingredients and mixing them together was an effective way of avoiding addressing the elephant in the room—the elephant being her own thoughts.

As the scent of fresh curry wafted throughout the apartment, Isanna was just thinking of contacting Zeke and asking when he'll come home when she heard keys rattling against the doorknob, answering her question.

She heard the door in the living room creak open. "I'm home."

"Welcome home," Isanna called back without much thought just as she grabbed the casserole pan off the stove and walked over to the dining table. She turned around and headed to the sink, stacking and arranging the used utensils just so that washing them later would be easier.

The sound of gushing water was about the only noise in the kitchens when she heard Zeke's footsteps enter through the doorway, followed by the legs of a chair squeaking.

"Any news about Zacharias?"

Isanna almost dropped the knife, flashes of the said blond—both the real and the dream one, popped to mind. She was quick to recover.

"Not yet." There was clinking of utensils.

"You're visiting him when he wakes up, right?"

"Yeah."

Then it was silent, and not the comfortable kind. At least, not for Isanna.

She stayed her attention on the sink and nibbled her lip, some part of her chest sinking into a deep, deep chasm. She always felt like this whenever indefinite stretches of silence occupied her conversations with Zeke, which started not too long ago. She hoped he didn't notice, but knew Zeke Yeager was always too sharp for his own good.

Her only question was why he never brought it up, nor asked her what was wrong.

She heard the legs of the chair scratching the tiles, footsteps padding across the kitchen floor, and Isanna turned around and was about to ask where he was going when suddenly he was right in front of her.

She didn't even get a chance to say a word when his lips caught hers, pushing her slightly so that her back hit the edge of the sink.

The suddenness slightly threw her disoriented, but upon smelling the alcohol that was clearly radiating off Zeke, Isanna placed both hands on his chest and pulled away.

When she examined his face closely, she noticed the mildly glazed hue in his eyes.

"You drank," she pointed out, frowning. When he didn't answer, she added, "Is work okay?"

Zeke blinked the daze out of his eyes, shaking his head as if there was a thought he wanted to erase.

He then offered her a lopsided smile. "Better than ever."

There wasn't a trace of his usual sarcasm, so Isanna asked one more time.

"Then what is it?"

Zeke didn't answer. At least, not right away. Instead, he kissed her again, this time with more fervor, as if he was chasing after time. There was a certain hastiness in his gesture—hastiness and desperation that spoke out to Isanna, a quiet and breathless imploration, an unspoken 'please'.

So, Isanna indulged him this time, going against the nagging voice in her head.

His hand rested on the edge of the sink beside her, the other one trailing up her back with a firm hold, reaching up to cradle her nape. Squeezing, his grip lightly tugged the flesh behind her neck, sending shivers down her body. His stubble brushed against her chin as Zeke angled his face to kiss her deeper, tugging her lip with his teeth and demanding for entrance. Hot breaths mixed as one and an involuntary moan left her when Zeke began sucking her tongue.

This was Zeke Yeager as she knew him: coarse, hasty, rough. Tipsy or not, he always kissed her like he wanted to suck out the entire air in her system and leave nothing for her, unlike—

No, she thought, don't think of him.

Isanna wrapped her arms around Zeke's neck, kissing him back with equal vigor as if the act could permanently erase his existence from her mind forever. Maybe she thought if she kissed her fiancé hard enough, it would.

Unfortunately for her, just when she was about to return Zeke's ardor, he pulled back.

Isanna opened her eyes, but she never got to see his expression since Zeke buried his face on her shoulder, the sound of their heavy breathing filling the air. For a few seconds, they stayed like that.

Then, against the flesh of her shoulder, Zeke broke the silence,

"Let's get married."

Isanna froze. Her mind took its time to process those three words, echoing again and again as if the term was a word of a different language. The fact that they've been engaged for years should have been enough to prepare her, yet the instant the idea was proposed suddenly everything went blank. She thought of what it would mean for her, for Zeke, for the both of them. She thought of Erwin.

"Have you.. thought of a date?"

Zeke lifted his face from her shoulder and finally looked her in the eye, a certain solemnity that he rarely ever wore. It was sheer authenticity, a stare so genuine and sure that left Isanna dazed at his next words.

"January. Eighth of January."

Next year, right after New Year's. That was about three-something months away.

"Isn't that too soon?" Isanna asked. "Will we even have enough time to prepare?"

"We'll hire a coordinator," Zeke said, "and it'll be a small-scale one."

Isanna fell silent at the turn of events. Gaze falling, her thoughts swirling towards different directions. A ball of pit felt like it lodged itself in her throat, the words refusing to leave; not that it really mattered considering her own mind was too heavy to even form a rational thought.

Erwin.

Even now, the name haunted her. Even when she hadn't seen nor heard from him ever since what happened at the hospital.

Because how could she ever face him, knowing that she was harboring these inappropriate feelings for the man? Isanna knew herself enough that she wasn't a master at hiding her emotions, and god forbid Erwin ever catches the fact that she had fallen for him.

Although, one teeny tiny voice in her head was saying that, yes, he already knows. But Isanna mentally drowned out the voice as she refocused her attention on her fiancé, who was still waiting for a response.

Marriage.

Something inside her head was screaming, like an indefinite creature was thrashing around while being chained to the wall. Like it was fighting something. Then the other one was her stupidity, looking around, so lost on what to do.

All things considered, marriage was the next most plausible course of action. They were engaged, of course they had to get married next, right?

So why was the thought daunting?

Because you're stupid and letting some pretty blond get to your head, Isanna thought to herself, picturing throttling herself in the neck. None of this would have happened if you controlled yourself.

Yet, another voice, But if it was wrong—if Erwin Smith was wrong, why did he make sense?

Isanna felt a prickling pain in her chest, one she tried to alleviate by breathing deeply.

Why did his presence bring her so much comfort? Like a missing piece she's been desperately chasing after since childhood?

"Isa?"

Snapping out of it, Isanna blinked and looked at Zeke, who never once took his eyes from her.

The silent question twinkled in his eyes, and she realized there was only one way to put an end to this conflict in her heart; that is, to close the lid of all possibilities, to tie the knot. Then, she came to an answer, one that she would have to eat up later on.

And oh how bad did she take it all back.

"Okay," Isanna decided, ultimately throwing in the towel and ignoring the screaming in her head. "Let's get married."

—

The smell of faint disinfectant pervaded the room. Isanna deftly arranged the bouquet of flowers in the glass cylinder vase that she brought, running her fingers across the soft petals. She stood in front of the bedside table, facing the open window that was overlooking the hospital garden.

The large marbled fountain at the center stood tall and proud as always like the last time, spurts of water streaming out to fill it up. Patients—some in wheelchairs and some accompanied by their guardians, strolled about admiring the scenery. Isanna caught a lone bird perched on the marbled ledge of the fountain, hopping while pecking whatever thing it found down there.

Isanna's eyes eventually fluttered towards the bench near it, watching a couple as they conversed and laughed on the same spot she and Erwin sat on the last time she was at the hospital.

Something warm trickled in her chest at the memory, of the way Erwin handled her so carefully, as if knowing exactly the right way she needed to be treated.

Subconsciously, Isanna lifted a hand to rest on her chest, feeling the even rhythm of her heartbeat at the thought.

"You look occupied."

Jerking, Isanna swiftly turned towards the source of the voice—the man on the hospital bed, who was now very much awake. Groggily so, but still awake.

Isanna's eyes widened, apparent surprise marking her face. "Mike."

The blond managed a faint smile, and that was when the surprise inside Isanna transformed into instant relief.

"'Morning—wait.. it is morning, isn't it?"

He tried to sit up and crane his neck to see through the window, but Isanna was already at his side, making a fuss.

"How are you feeling? Oh god—you're actually awake—I can't believe—do you need anything? I can—"

Isanna was interrupted by a gentle grip on her wrist, making her turn to see the soft smile plastered on Mike's face, appreciative eyes taking her in.

"I'm good—a bit woozy 's all, but.. I'm fine."

"I'll go call the nurse."

Mike couldn't add anything else because Isanna was already out of the room, hasty steps padding across the floor. He couldn't help but sigh, although he did feel a bit touched how concerned she'd sounded.

An involuntary twitch on his lips eventually formed into a subtle smile.

Soon after, a doctor accompanied by a nurse returned with Isanna. The doctor asked the necessary questions and performed a casual checkup of Mike's status and signs, and after ultimately giving a positive prognosis, left after leaving some final comments about precautions.

Isanna was pouring water from a pitcher onto a glass by the bedside table when Mike turned to her.

"Thanks for looking after me."

Isanna paused and lifted her eyes to face him, before she sighed and handed him the glass of water.

"If you're really thankful, get better soon."

Mike gave her a grateful nod as he accepted the glass. "Hm. I guess I'll have to get discharged by tomorrow, then.."

Isanna's face of disapproval elicited a chuckle from him.

"Everybody was worried, you know," Isanna said, stalking over towards the couch by the other side of the room. "I was worried. I thought—"

She suddenly froze mid-sentence, and suddenly it hit Mike.

This was Isanna, after all. Even in the past, she had always been the worrier among them. The one who couldn't help but always voice her concern, the one who could never get used to losing people to death.

He imagined the news of his emergency reaching Isanna's ears, imagined her reaction.

"Sorry for worrying you."

She looked at him, quiet eyes taking all of him in.

"Well. You should be," she huffed. Mike smiled.

"How are Levi and the others?" he then asked.

If it weren't for Mike's keen observation, he wouldn't have noticed the slight change in Isanna's demeanor; the way she rolled her shoulder, shifted her eyes, and adjusted her leg as she sat down.

"I'm.. not sure," she answered, more like a mumble that was coherent enough for him to hear. "I haven't seen them these days."

Mike didn't say anything right away. "Did something happen?"

That wasn't exactly the question he wanted to ask. To be more specific, he wanted to ask whether something happened between her and Erwin. He'd be a blind fool to not realize Erwin's never-ending advancement towards her, and he would be even more blind to not notice Isanna's doe eyes whenever she looked at him.

"Nothing much." Isanna answered with a casual shrug. "I was busy with work so I couldn't really meet with them after—after, you know—" she made a vague gesture towards Mike— "but I'm sure they're doing fine. I called Hange when you woke up, so I'm sure she'll tell the others."

There was a silent statement underlying her words, Mike could hear. I've been avoiding them. And he wondered whether something happened after he got hospitalized. Whether Isanna felt something stir in the air, and whether that stir was making her uncomfortable.

He wondered whether his accident triggered anything in her memories, but then again, if it did, she would have done and said so much more than now.

He has always been such an observer, after all.

Yet, he decided not to pry and change the topic. "And how are you doing?"

Isanna raised a brow. "I'm not the one who got shot and had surgery."

"No shit. Can't a hospitalized patient ask how his friend's been doing?"

A beat of silence passed, before Isanna snorted. Eventually it turned into a laugh.

"Gee, Zacharias. Never knew you could be so feisty."

Mike's lips quirked into a smile. There was something in her laugh that triggered something warm in him, no matter in what lifetime.

"Trust me, you've never seen me feisty yet."

"Oh yeah?"

A flash of the past popped to memory. Him in his Corps' uniform, fit for battle, zipping through the air.

"Mhm." Not in this lifetime, at least.

A certain sparkle twinkled in Isanna's gaze as she stared at him.

"You know, sometimes I wonder why you're still single."

Had Mike been drinking, he would have choked.

He gave her a 'Seriously?' look and shook his head. "Way to hit it where it hurts, huh?"

"I didn't say it as an insult," Isanna added, "it was a compliment; you're too good to be.."

"To be alone?"

"You're too good," Isanna chuckled. "In general."

Mike looked at her, really looked at her—from the waves of her hair to the twinkle in her eyes, from the curves of her lips to the shine of her smile—he took in each and every detail, and then he was transported back to a time where they had a similar conversation, on the roof of their HQ, under a moonlit sky.

"You're a good guy, Mike. The world would be a better place with more people like you. I wonder why you're still single."

And then, there was a question that followed, one that had been asked to him a while back.

"Didn't you.. love her then?"

"How about now?"

Mike had thought that his adoration for this woman would stretch even to this life, but looking at her now, at the comfortable life she was living (at least, it was as comfortable as it could get with the whole Erwin drama), instead of yearning for Isanna's reciprocity, all he ever really felt was happiness that they got to meet again in this life. The chance to be her friend again.

Because, even with his secret feelings in the past, he treasured their friendship above everything else.

Mike held back a chuckle.

Besides—

Their tranquil conversation was cut short when the door to the room roughly pushed open, and a new figure stood, panting and gripping the edge of the door with sweat dripping down their temple.

Isanna looked at the newcomer with mild surprise, their unfamiliarity yet familiar figure burning in her mind. It was a woman of average height with long light hair in a ponytail, widened eyes that held the combination of green and gray.

Isanna couldn't help but wonder where she had seen this woman before, until Mike spoke up.

"Nanaba—"

"You fucking moron!"

Both Isanna and Mike flinched at her outburst, and all Isanna could do was stare, shellshocked, as the person called Nanaba practically flew across the room, lunged at Mike and—

Oh.

She embraced him.

And Isanna could tell she wasn't the only one who was surprised, since she could clearly see Mike's sheer dumbfounded expression over Nanaba's shoulder.

"You're an idiot!" Nanaba blubbered, clutching the back of Mike's shirt tight. "Hange called me—you woke up and—and—we were so worried, stupid idiot—"

Mike attempted a soft chuckle, rubbing her back in a comforting way.

"I know, I know, I'm sor—"

"Shut up! Who told you to jump in and protect me?!"

At that, Isanna's ears perked up. She never really got the other details of Mike's accident, but based on Nanaba's reaction right now, she could pretty much make a rough guess.

And another thing she could make a guess was how close both Mike and this Nanaba person were, based on the scene she was looking at. The latter hadn't even realized she was there.

She couldn't help a knowing smile. Isanna thought that was her cue to make her exit as she quietly grabbed her bag and made a gesture towards the door at Mike, who only smiled and nodded as he continued to comfort the woman who was still clinging on to him.

Isanna padded over quietly. Once she was at the door, she left behind one last glance, smiling to herself as she watched Mike wipe Nanaba's tears, before he muttered something under his breath—probably a poorly-made joke of some sorts, judging from the way she playfully punched his shoulder in response.

Isanna didn't stay long after that and softly closed the door behind her, giving them that much deserved privacy.

—

"PTA meeting?"

Isanna paused in the middle of dinner, spoon in hand about to enter her mouth. Zeke was washing the dishes, his back to her.

"Me? To Eren's PTA?" she repeated, just to make sure.

Zeke put away the last of the dishes before he turned around to face her, leaning against the edge of the sink with crossed arms. He had a strawberry-patterned headband pushing back his light blond hair.

"Dad's out of town, and Eren's mom told me she won't make it."

Isanna blinked a few more times before she eventually nodded. "Sure. When's the meeting?"

"Wednesday, at the middle school building. Just ask around," Zeke said. "I'll be attending a faculty meeting so I can't go, either. Then we can go home together after; maybe get drive-thru for dinner if you want."

Isanna downed the last piece and chewed quietly with a nod. "I'll check with the clinic whether I have appointments, but I'll be there."

Zeke walked over and grabbed her plate before he leaned down and pecked her forehead. "Thanks, babe."

"Thank you." Isanna smiled, adding cheekily with a tilted head. "For making dinner and doing the dishes. What kind spirit possessed you today?"

Zeke dramatically placed a hand on his chest, his free hand still holding on to her empty plate. If you looked closely, there could have been an angelic light behind him along with a halo over his head.

"I have always been this kind."

"Uhuh. Now go and clean up, Mother Theresa."

Zeke winked. "Yes, ma'am."

Isanna chuckled, something tepid trickling in her chest. Relief swarmed her at the thought that, ever since they decided on a wedding date, things between her and Zeke did not feel as tense anymore. Maybe it was what they needed all along.

I made the right choice, she thought, repeatedly. Marrying my fiancé is the right choice.

With a chin on her palm, she watched Zeke's back as he cleaned the counter. This was the back of her future husband; the back that she will have to see each and every day for the rest of her life, the back that will share the burdens and happiness of the family they will form in the future.

Isanna had no doubts about Zeke Yeager as a husband and a father. He was a good man—he treated her so well, never deliberately did anything that he knew would hurt her, never gave her an opportunity to question his loyalty—he was everything. Zeke was enough. He loved her, and they will be happy together.

She didn't need to think about anything else. She didn't have the time, nor the space in her head, to think of—

A faint ringing penetrated her hearing.

She was back in the antiquated office. A dark purple carpet overlayed the floorboards. The window showcased the full moon hung in the starless night sky. An empty drilling field was barren just below. A mahogany desk stood beside her, her attention fixed on the tall, blond man before her, who held a little box in his open palm.

"Will you do the honor of making me the happiest man in the world, and let me be your husband?"

She was never one for artistry, never the type to be into poetry nor the intricacy of emotions interwoven along words strung with delicacy, but even then, what she received that night far exceeded any of the sort.

A "Let me be your husband," instead of a "Be my wife,"; a statement of pure devotion, the yearning to belong to her instead of the other way around, the eagerness to give instead of receive, even though she would have agreed either way, because with him, she knew she was the happiest.

There was something soul-crushing—in the most romantic sense—to see a man who refused to even blink in the face of death, willingly bow his head to her in surrender.

And there was only one answer she would give.

"Isa? You look pale?"

Zeke's voice was what pulled Isanna out of her trance.

".. Huh?"

"You look pale. Are you sick?" He placed a hand on her forehead, and Isanna took that time to reconnect with her surroundings.

The dining table. The kitchen counter. The stove, the fridge—her fiancé kneeling beside her with worry in his eyes. Gone was the smell of old wood, the chirping of crickets out the window. Gone was the Commander and the promise ring.

And when Isanna lowered her eyes, all she saw on her finger was the ring Zeke Yeager promised to her.

"I'm fine—"

She caught herself when a thought arose.

Hiding her strange visions from Zeke would only cram a distance in their marriage. If she was determined enough to set things right and resolve whatever conflict she was feeling concerning Erwin Smith, the only solution would be to be more open with her fiancé.

After all, Zeke already knew of her visions at a younger age—he just didn't know who she was seeing, specifically.

Isanna turned to him, hopeful.

"Actually, it's these... visions I've been seeing in my dreams."

She thought she imagined it, but she swore an undecipherable expression flashed across Zeke's face.

".. Visions," he repeated, tone so even Isanna couldn't exactly pinpoint what he intended.

Nodding, she began to explain, "I found it a bit difficult to talk about them, but actually, I feel like they've worsened ever since we moved here. Visions of—people, Zeke. I'm seeing a lot of them lately, and it was making me feel weird."

"People?"

"Yes, people," she said. "And I'm in these visions, and.. I was, I was close with them—we were all friends. It's strange."

She paused, eyes focused on a glass vase as she tilted her head, trying to find the right words.

"It felt strange, but.. also, warm."

That was the word. Isanna thought it felt accurate; all those visions of soldiers and military images—yes, there was a squeezing force in her chest, but at the same time, it brought an inexplicable comfort.

A subconscious smile eventually made its way on her lips, one that Zeke did not fail to notice.

"Somehow, the thought made me a bit happy—"

"I think you shouldn't think too much about it, Isa."

Isanna stopped, turned to look at Zeke again with an unreadable expression. "What?"

He stayed his focused gaze on her, scanning her face for something, before he sighed and stood from his position.

"I'm saying it's just the stress from the move. Don't let it get to you."

"Stress? But it's been months—"

"It takes time to adjust to a new environment, Isa," Zeke cut her off, which came off a bit too blunt. "You should stop thinking about it. Maybe redirect that energy to our wedding?"

Isanna held eye contact with him for a few more seconds, before she lowered her gaze with a mild frown.

She couldn't quite grasp what about it sounded wrong.

".. Guess you're right," she eventually muttered. "Sorry, I won't bring it up again."

She heard a sigh.

"Look, babe," Zeke called, "I'm not trying to downplay what you're feeling, that's not what I meant."

"I know."

"I just meant that, if that's the reason why you've been feeling distant the past few weeks—months, even—then why would you keep wasting time dwelling on it?"

Isanna swallowed a pit of saliva, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. That was the first time Zeke pointed out her lack of motivation the past couple of months.

"I know, Zeke. You're right." She finally stood from the table. "I just—I think I need some rest, is all. I'll be upstairs."

She didn't spare him another glance and walked out of the kitchen, feeling even more dejected at the thought that somehow, that easy air between them that had just only returned had just dissipated once again—all because she talked about her strange visions.

—

When Wednesday wound up, Isanna left work early at around 4 PM and arrived at the middle school building of Saint Joseph Academy. After asking some passing guardians, she eventually found the conference room and settled with the rest of the parents as the meeting started.

It lasted for over an hour or so, since by the time Isanna checked her wristwatch, it was already roughly thirty minutes past five. The afternoon rays were fading, replaced by the oncoming dusk of sunset.

Zeke said he'd be attending a faculty meeting, she thought whilst meandering about in the empty hallway of the high school building, cream-painted walls and polished floors decorating the space. She figured heading over to the faculty office and waiting outside for Zeke would do, until she stopped and pondered whether that would be appropriate.

"Not like anyone's here at this hour," she muttered out loud, almost absentmindedly.

She realized she spoke too soon a second after.

"Miss Isanna?"

Startled, Isanna whirled around in a mild jump, the name registering before she even saw him.

There Erwin stood, in the doorway of one of the classrooms she just passed by, a hand on the side of the frame as if he was about to leave. He wore his usual casual suit but with the absence of a blazer, a slightly loosened tie hanging around his neck, and his dark blond hair looked just the right mix of kept and ruffled.

For a few moments, Isanna was dumbfounded. She never thought she'd run into him of all people at this hour—after all, Saint Joseph's was a big academy, but she should've known better, wandering in his territory like this.

Now here she stood, shellshocked and stupefied at the last person she wanted to see. All she could think of was how he held her in the women's restrooms of the hospital, how safe she felt, and how much she craved more of it, against the rational voice of her conscience.

"Erwin."

Erwin himself couldn't look even more surprised. He straightened himself and adjusted his tie, clearing his throat.

"What brings you here?"

"Eren's parents couldn't come for the PTA meeting, so I was their substitute."

A look of understanding passed his face as he nodded. "I suppose you're waiting for Zeke."

Isanna tried to look casual—as casual as she could be, what with how effortlessly handsome the man looked. There was a certain elegance to Erwin Smith; an essence of grace and class he often carried, from the luxury branded silver wristwatch down to his cleanly polished brown oxford shoes.

He never failed to look like he jumped straight out of a classical drama in the olden times, and— god Isanna hated just how unseemingly observant she was.

"Yes," she finally answered, almost breathlessly.

If Erwin noticed her edginess, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he said something much worse.

"Would you like to accompany me while waiting? The meeting could take a while; you could sit in the classroom."

A 'No' should have sufficed, but of course Isanna couldn't resist the inquiry.

"What were you doing this late?"

Erwin tightened his lips into a tight smile as he ran a hand through his hair. If he wanted to fix it, he did an awful job—still handsome, but now a bit more ruffled. It only ended up giving him a more casual look, which was a nice contrast to his fit.

"I was in the middle of checking some papers when I noticed someone passing by. I thought they looked familiar—it seems I was right." He gave her a little smile, one that sent chummy turns in her stomach. "I wanted to finish grading here so I can relax later."

Isanna tried to return his smile. "Didn't know the word relax was in Erwin Smith's vocabulary. You always struck me as the workaholic type."

In our past life, yes, Erwin thought. "Even I enjoy a leisure hour at times, miss Isanna."

Isanna fidgeted with the strap of her bag. "Oh. Well, I wouldn't want to disturb—"

"On the contrary, I would appreciate your company," he added assuringly. "You are never an imposition, miss Isanna."

There he goes with his not-so small words, Isanna thought with a chewed cheek. Why oh why are eloquent men so—

She cleared her throat. "Well.. I guess it wouldn't hurt to sit."

Erwin nodded and gestured for her inside. Isanna bit her lip and ducked as she passed by him and entered the classroom, ultimately missing the little smile of victory that adorned Erwin's lips.

The classroom was more average than she thought. Rows of chairs were neatly arranged with an aisle at the center. The chalkboard at the front had reminders written at the top corner, and the backboard was plastered with minimal colorful decorations, not too bland and boring, but not too colorful like a kindergartners' classroom, either.

It hit Isanna that, this was Erwin's classroom. He taught in this very space, that gentle yet alluring voice tone echoing against the four corners of this room, guiding young students for a better education.

When Isanna realized the room felt too quiet, she turned around, about to give a comment—only to see Erwin leaning against the teacher's desk, arms crossed and an affectionate stare that looked a tad too tender, directed at her. Suddenly, her words caught in her throat. Had he been looking at her like that till now?

The silence was unnerving her, so of course she had to break it with an award-winning conversation starter:

"Nice room."

—because she was just an amazing conversationalist with a huge vocabulary like that.

Amusement flashed in Erwin's eyes, a lone brow lifted and the slightest twitch of his lips indicated a silent laugh.

"Why thank you, I try to be as non-boring as possible—although Hange always tells me otherwise."

Isanna almost scoffed. "Can't imagine why.."

"Was that a jab I hear?"

She scrunched her nose. "Maybe. Were you offended?"

A low chuckle reverberated from Erwin as he shook his head and uncrossed his arms, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He lifted his eyes to hold her gaze once more, something akin to fondness twinkling in his hues.

"You could never offend me even if you tried, miss Isanna."

Blinking, Isanna slightly tilted her head, about to ask what he meant by that, when the knowing smile dancing on his features made her pause. Suddenly, she didn't want to know what he meant anymore.

And suddenly, everything came back to her. Them in the restroom together, their conversation on the bench of the hospital garden, Zeke, their wedding in three months time—her growing feelings for the man before her.

At the realization, she only gave him a tight smile in response and averted her gaze from him, opting to walk around the room and glean over the interior, if only to appear busy.

"May I ask something?" Erwin started.

"Hm?"

"It may seem like a strange observation."

Isanna paused, turned to him. "What is?"

She noticed how Erwin scanned her briefly, before pointing out.

"I seem to notice you wear the color blue often. Is it your favorite color?"

At that, Isanna peered down; sure enough, she was wearing her favorite blue blouse. For Erwin to notice, there were only two possible reasons: 1) She often wore it like there was no tomorrow, and 2) Erwin Smith just happened to really look at her.

"Well," she started, shrugging and looking out the window that was overlooking a garden of some sorts, with the school's logo engraved on the lawn like an artistic craft. "Yeah, I guess you could say so. It's a nice color."

"Indeed, it suits you," he said, then added curiously, "Is there a particular reason why you're fond of it?"

Isanna gave it some thought, eyes still strained on the garden. She looked up at the sky and noted the presence of stars, signaling the coming evening.

"Not sure," she mumbled, frowning in deep thought. It felt like the answer to his question was within her grasp. Why, indeed? For as long as she remembered, the shade of blue always brought something soothing.

"Maybe because it's the color of the sky?" she pondered, "or.. the sea? Or maybe because it's the color of—"

She looked at his eyes.

Erwin noted something unreadable in her expression. "Hm?"

It felt like the wind got knocked out of Isanna's lungs. An answer so close to her grasp, but like a passing ghost, it barely escaped her desperate fingers.

Cerulean blue.

She swore she'd seen that very shade in her visions—it couldn't have been Zeke's. She's seen him countless times, and she'd seen enough to determine that Zeke's eyes were of a much lighter hue.

Then, it has to be the Commander's.

The Commander.

There it was again. That title. That damned title. Something so powerful, so authoritative, intimidating; she tried associating it with the Erwin Smith that she now knew, and she couldn't help but think how dissimilar they looked.

The Commander was more stern, stringent, and rarely smiled. The Erwin Smith in front of her looked at her with the most fondest of eyes. They couldn't be the same, and yet..

"Is something the matter, miss Isanna?"

Blinking out of her stupor, Isanna averted her eyes from him, afraid that if she held eye contact for even just a tad longer, Erwin could read her feelings.

"Mm, it's probably just the exhaustion," she attempted a chuckle, tucking a hair behind her ear. She leaned against the window beside her.

"Exhaustion? Did something happen?"

She shook her head. "No, nothing that worrying. Just a bit busy these days, is all.."

Erwin seemed awfully curious. "Busy with what?"

Isanna casually shrugged, waving a dismissive hand while looking out the window. "Y'know, stuff. Stuff with work, the wedding, and—"

"Wedding?"

Isanna paused in late realization. The air inside the room shifted.

"Yeah. Zeke and I—we, um, decided on a date, and—"

"When?"

He sounded forceful, and when Isanna turned to Erwin, she thought he looked a bit panic-stricken.

Still, he asked a question, and still, Isanna had to answer him.

"January. Eighth of January." The air was getting suffocating. Even from where she stood, she noted the tension in Erwin's stance.

"Isn't that too soon?"

Isanna couldn't help but notice the slight change in his tone—gone was the confidence and the charisma which he so easily carried. Suddenly, he sounded shaky.

And Isanna herself was far too stupefied to even think of alleviating the change in the atmosphere.

"Well.. we've been engaged for a while now, and I've known him my entire life—I don't think that counts as 'too soon', right?"

She knew she should've kept her mouth shut, because now, she was at a loss. With how Erwin was currently staring at her, one would have thought she had just slapped him across the face. And she abhorred herself, because why on earth did she feel guilty?

She was marrying her fiancé. There was nothing to feel guilty for. Yet—

She wanted to take it back. One look at the pain and panic in his face was all it took for her to doubt herself once more.

When Erwin pushed himself against the desk and began stalking towards her, Isanna could feel and hear her heartbeat quickening, the heat rising to her face. His nearing footsteps had her averting her gaze once more, contemplating her next course of action, because this couldn't be happening. She couldn't allow this situation to go out of control more than it already had, she couldn't—

"Are you.. really marrying him?"

He was right in front of her—right in front of her. Isanna couldn't look him in the eye.

With her eyes focused downwards, all she could muster was a still "Yes."

Never before was silence that deafening. Isanna waited, helpless at the turn of events, and the next question Erwin asked was the one thing she wished he hadn't.

"Do you really love him?"

Isanna swore her heart skipped a beat. Do you really love him? A question she always thought she knew the answer to, ever since she'd said yes to Zeke years ago. It had always been the one thing she was sure of.

When she finally lifted her gaze, she made sure to lock eyes with Erwin, made sure she let him see the resolve in her, no matter how shaky she felt it was.

"Yes, I do."

Something ugly twisted in her gut. Something dirty; she hated how it made her feel. She had zero reason for feeling this way, for affirming her affections towards her fiancé.

But one thing she hated even more, was the tint of hurt that flashed in Erwin's eyes as he knitted his brows. She hated seeing him like that.

No—she thought—No. Don't feel bad. This is how it should be. Better to hurt him than your own fiancé.

"Why all the questions, anyway?" she said, ignoring the sinking pit in her chest, the bitterness she felt. "I mean, Zeke's my fiancé. Of course I like him. I love him. I promised to marry him. And frankly speaking, Erwin, I don't like how you make it sound as if—"

"Don't."

His whispered interruption had Isanna almost doubting whether he said anything at all.

"What?"

Erwin lowered his gaze, swallowing a heavy pit of saliva. When he lifted his face to her, he looked more tortured than anything Isanna had ever seen; like he was seconds from falling to his knees before her.

Then he uttered the words that might as well have rocked her world.

"Don't marry him, Isanna."

It took a good few seconds for her to process his plea. That weak, breathless, desperate voice—she couldn't believe it came from a man so firm like Erwin Smith. It was so uncharacteristic, so.. not him, that a level of awestruck wonder hit her.

Isanna.

And he called her by her name again, without the honorific. Something in the way Erwin articulated it was like no other—like a reverent name, a prayerful utter, as if her name was that of a god he worshiped.

Isanna heaved a heavy breath, trembling gaze doing its best to hold Erwin's doleful ones. Was he even aware of the effect he left on her? Did he say what he said, knowing it will sway her?

"I—I don't understand," she stammered, taking an inadvertent step backward. "Why would you—"

But just as she took that one step, Erwin quickly grasped her arm, making her look at him.

"Erwin—"

"Isanna," he said, and she had a feeling the next thing he was going to say would hurt her even more, should she ever hear it with her own ears.

"Why are you doing this?"

Erwin never looked more conflicted than anything at that exact moment.

"Because I lo—"

Isanna stiffened, but before he could say the words she dreaded, she roughly pulled her arm back, stopping him.

"Don't," she said, no louder than a frantic whisper, "don't say it. Please."

The silence returned. All Isanna could hear was her heavy breathing, and the loud drumming of her heartbeat. She held her arm with a trembling hand, looking straight at Erwin's eyes, despite her body screaming at her to look away.

Because how could she turn away when he was looking at her like that? How could she, when he was looking at her like she just shattered his world when all he wished was for her to be a part of it?

Isanna wasn't sure what hurt more at that moment: the aching in her chest or his crestfallen expression.

Still, imagine her surprise, when amidst the anguished face he wore, Erwin slowly lifted a hand and cupped her cheek.

Something in the gesture struck a familiar warmth within her.

"Alright, I won't," Erwin whispered, slowly and defeatedly, "I won't say it, so please... don't cry."

Isanna realized what he meant a second later when he wiped something wet off her cheek, gently caressing her with a thumb. If it was possible to feel more miserable at that moment, she would have felt it.

How could a man treat her so tenderly like this, even when she had deliberately hurt him? If anything, she just wanted to sob in his arms even more.

Her hand twitched, a temptation to place it over his and nestle her face deeper into his hold was an inch from overtaking her, when a third voice sounded in the room.

"Isanna."

Stiffening, both Isanna and Erwin turned towards the voice, the former feeling her heart drop and blood gone cold at the sight of Zeke standing in the doorway of the classroom, an indecipherable look plastered on his face.

A burn of shame immediately spread across her. Isanna moved away from Erwin's hold, another wave of guilt engulfing her as she looked away and prayed Zeke didn't notice her tears.

But it was too late.

Because the next time Isanna glanced back at Zeke, he looked absolutely furious as he made his way towards them across the room. His tense fist did not help to calm her.

A bubble of anxiety overflowing, Isanna stepped forward and tried to stop him.

"Zeke—"

He blatantly ignored her, stepping past her so that he was face to face with Erwin, balled fists at the ready.

"Smith," Zeke Yeager spat, almost as if Isanna was mere air, "what the fuck did you do?"

Unlike him, Erwin this time was calmer—a contrast to his earlier disposition when it had just been the both of them.

"Zeke, calm down."

"Calm down?" Zeke mockingly repeated, a tone of disbelief and a wide hand gesture made. "My fiancée is alone with a man that I know wants to dick her down and on top of that, is crying, and you're telling me to calm down?"

Erwin's brow twitched, displeased at his vulgar choice of words and the volume of his accusation. But before he could even give his defense, Isanna tried to step in once more.

"Zeke, nothing happe—"

"You stay out of this!"

Isanna flinched, and an insurmountable rage surged through Erwin.

He narrowed his eyes into a glare and instinctively grabbed Zeke's collar.

"Don't raise your voice at her."

Zeke clicked his tongue and slapped his hand away. "You don't get to tell me what to do, Smith—I'm not the bastard flirting with another man's woman!"

"Zeke!" Isanna's voice shook as she grabbed Zeke's arm, pulling him back desperately. "That's enough! Let's just go."

A string of heavy silence rolled, following the tension in the room. For a scary moment, Isanna was terrified of Zeke ignoring her again, but maybe he found his rational sense back since he whirled away from Erwin, grabbed her wrist tightly, and stormed out of the room with her in tow. Isanna couldn't even look back at Erwin with how fast Zeke was, but she figured it was for the better that she didn't see his face.

They lugged down through the empty school hallway, out of the building and into the parking lot, neither saying a word. Once they reached the car, Zeke promptly let go of Isanna before he kicked the side of the car door in rage, surprising her.

She had never seen him like this before, so angry and rash. 

"Get inside the car," Zeke said without even looking at her.

For the first time ever since knowing Zeke Yeager, this was the only time she was truly frightened of him, and she couldn't even say that it was his fault.

With a chewed lip, Isanna pulled the car door open and ducked inside, a sinking dread that never seemed to stop following her, and a thought that she committed something she could never reverse.

—

Erwin sat himself on one of the student's desks, running both hands down his face and a suppressed groan threatening to leave.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to clock Zeke Yeager in the face, goddamn it all—he wanted Isanna to remember him already.

He took out his phone, stared at the screen and contemplated contacting her. He wanted to know. Was she alright? Was Zeke treating her right? Surely, no matter how frustrated he was with him, he wouldn't take it out on her?

Yet, the image of Isanna flinching at Zeke's outburst was ingrained in his memory, and Erwin couldn't sit still.

He gripped his phone tightly, before he slammed it on the desk and leaned backwards, neck craned as he stared at the ceiling.

He did it. He had basically revealed his feelings to her—even though she blatantly told him to keep it to himself. Erwin didn't know if he should congratulate himself or face plant on the desk. 

Now, it felt like he was at a point of no return. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: omg the drama. theres too much testosterone in the air sorry. had to spice it up bc we're almost there!

almost at the end of this fic and i wish i could get it done within the year but we'll see! thank you so much<333 summer just started so i hope i can put out as much chapters as i can

p.s. this was NOT proofread.. it's 2:40 AM here and maybe i'll edit it soon but who knows heh