Their bond

The drive to the school was swift, the engine of the car humming under the weight of Giselle's thoughts. Logan was beside her, his grip firm on the wheel, his face drawn with the kind of tension that only came from years of experience with both the real and imagined dangers threatening those you love.

"Do you think she's okay?" Giselle asked softly, eyes focused ahead, though her mind was already at the school.

Logan didn't answer right away. He didn't need to. Both of them knew the question was more for reassurance than an inquiry. He knew Leina was strong, but he also knew how fragile she could be beneath that exterior.

"She's our daughter," he finally replied, his voice steady but tight. "She's been through worse."

Giselle nodded, pressing her lips together in a line. She had seen her children handle things with incredible resilience, but Leina was different. She was always the quiet one, the one who sought peace in solitude. For her to be shaken this much... it was a reminder of just how deeply the world could affect her.

As they pulled into the school parking lot, they could already see the chaos. The front doors were slightly ajar, and there were whispers in the air. Logan's hands tightened around the steering wheel, his face darkening as they exited the vehicle.

Inside, the tension in the hallway was palpable. The Reinhardt boys, Liam and Louis, were standing in the principal's office, looking distinctly uncomfortable as they argued in hushed voices.

"I'm not going back to class if she's not okay," Louis said, his usual carefree expression replaced with concern.

"Same," Liam chimed in, his gaze flicking toward the office door. "She shouldn't be alone."

Their twin-like sync was apparent even in this moment of worry. But it was clear: their protective instincts were in full force. Their sister's distress had rattled them more than either cared to admit.

Leina wasn't the only one who needed support in that moment. The brothers, always known for their competitive nature and close bond with each other, were showing a side of themselves that their parents rarely saw—a side that was tender and fiercely protective.

Logan entered the office with Giselle right behind him, the door swinging open with a quiet authority. The conversation between the twins halted the moment they saw their father.

"You two can't just skip school because you're worried about Leina," Logan said, his voice calm but firm. His usual sternness was softened by the concern in his eyes.

"We're not worried," Liam grumbled, shuffling his feet. "But she... she's not herself. She shouldn't be alone."

"Exactly," Louis added, a rare softness in his tone. "She's shaken up, Dad. We're just trying to help."

Giselle caught her breath. The connection between her children was undeniable. They shared a bond so deep it was almost as if they were one person. Their loyalty to each other, to Leina, was as fierce as any family connection she'd ever known. It was a strength she admired in her sons, and one she could never fully replicate herself.

Logan gave them a pointed look before turning his attention to the principal, who had been silently observing the family dynamic. He was clearly unsure how to handle this situation, caught between the urgency of the moment and the expectations of the Reinhardt family.

"Where's Leina?" Logan asked, his voice softer now as the moment's gravity set in.

"She's in the counselor's office," the principal answered, his tone clipped. "We thought it would be best to give her some space, but..."

Before he could finish, Giselle was already moving, her steps purposeful as she crossed the room and made her way toward the counselor's office. Logan, always alert, followed close behind her, glancing back at the boys one last time.

In the counselor's office, the door was slightly ajar. Giselle paused for a moment, her hand hovering over the handle. She could hear Leina's soft voice, a broken thread of emotion slipping through the cracks.

"… I didn't mean to... I didn't want to cause trouble…"

Giselle's heart clenched at the sound of her daughter's voice. She pushed the door open gently, and what she saw made her stop for a moment.

Leina was sitting on the counselor's chair, her shoulders hunched in on herself. Her small frame seemed even smaller in the oversized chair, and her hands were trembling as they clutched at the hem of her uniform. Her face was pale, her eyes red from tears that had clearly been held back for too long.

Logan, stepping in beside her, didn't say anything at first. He just knelt down in front of Leina, gently cupping her face in his large hands. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a brief moment, there was hesitation—a flicker of resistance. But then, as if the floodgates of her emotional dam had burst, Leina crumpled forward into his embrace.

The tears came, quiet sobs that wracked her small body. Logan wrapped his arms around her, his large frame enveloping her protectively. Giselle stepped closer, a protective instinct rising within her. She touched Leina's shoulder lightly, a comforting gesture, and when their daughter looked up at her with wide, tear-streaked eyes, Giselle felt a surge of tenderness.

"You don't have to be strong all the time, Leina," Giselle murmured, her voice soft but steady. "It's okay to let it all out."

Leina's sobs deepened, her guard completely breaking down as she allowed herself to feel the full weight of the fear, the confusion, the emotional exhaustion she had been holding in for so long.

"Mom…" Leina whispered, her voice cracking. "I was so scared..."

Giselle's heart twisted painfully. She had always seen Leina as the strong one, the one who seemed to hold everything together in their family. It was moments like these that reminded her that even the strongest needed support. Even the quietest needed someone to lean on.

"I know, sweetheart. We're here for you," Giselle said, her voice thick with emotion. Logan gave a low hum of agreement, holding Leina close, his protective instincts as a father kicking into full gear.

Logan's fingers gently combed through Leina's hair, soothing her, and Giselle placed a hand on her daughter's back. Together, they enveloped her in the kind of love and safety that only a family could provide.

For a long moment, there was only silence in the room—Leina's quiet sobs, Logan's soft murmurs of comfort, and Giselle's quiet presence. The Reinhardt family was united in this moment, bound by love, trust, and the unspoken promise that no matter what, they would protect each other. Always.

Eventually, Leina's sobs slowed, and her breath came in shaky sighs. She pulled back slightly, wiping at her eyes, but she didn't let go of her parents. She wasn't ready yet.

And they weren't going to rush her.

Giselle's heart swelled with pride, love, and fierce protectiveness. In this moment, she knew that whatever had happened, her daughter was going to be okay. They would be okay.

As Leina sat up slightly, wiping her eyes, her brothers, Lester and Levy, had quietly entered the room. They hadn't spoken, but their expressions were soft, their worry palpable.

Lester stepped forward first, his usual smirk replaced with something more tender as he gave Leina a gentle hug. "You know, you're never alone. We've got you," he said, his voice low but filled with sincerity.

Levy followed, his arms open for a hug as well, and without a word, Leina embraced him. The twins, who were always so competitive and playful, were now showing a side of themselves that only their sister had the power to bring out. Their protectiveness and love were unspoken but ever-present.

Logan, seeing his sons rallying around their sister, allowed a soft smile to tug at his lips. Giselle's gaze softened as she looked at their sons, their tender, silent support for Leina a reminder of the strength of family.

"You're our sister, Leina," Levy whispered, resting his chin on her head. "And we'll never let anything happen to you."

Leina, for the first time in what felt like ages, allowed herself to lean into her brothers, her parents still holding her close. There was no hurry. There was no rush. They would be okay.

Together.