Chapter 7
790words
I'd spent my entire youth loving another man, pouring out every drop of affection, only to be tossed aside like an old shoe. And now this man before me, practically a stranger, wanted to "fall completely in love with me."
It felt like a dream—the very one I'd chased for ten years with Julian but never caught.
On the way to get the documents, I sat in Leo's car, watching street scenes blur past the window, my thoughts in complete disarray. Memories of Leo Sanders—ones I'd deliberately locked away—suddenly broke through the surface one by one, beyond my control.
Julian actually believed Leo Sanders and I met because of him.
He couldn't be more wrong.
I hadn't met Leo many times, but each encounter burned itself into my memory, like slow-motion highlights from a film you can't forget.
The first time was after junior year Prom.
I waited for Julian at the school gate in a poorly-fitted rental dress, standing there until the music died and the crowd scattered. He finally emerged with his friends, pushing his bicycle, without sparing me a single glance. "Come on," he said impatiently to his companions, "let's head back and game."
I clutched my purse strap, watching his figure grow smaller in the distance, my heart too numb with sadness to even produce tears.
Just as I turned to trudge alone to the subway, someone stepped into my path.
It was Leo Sanders.
He wore the same school uniform as everyone else, but stood straighter than his peers. His eyes held a loneliness that contradicted his sharp exterior.
He said: "Stop wasting your time on him. Choose me instead."
I stood speechless with shock, assuming he'd lost some bet with his friends that forced him to play this cruel joke. I turned and ran.
The second time I met him was on my twentieth birthday night.
Julian had completely forgotten me, leaving me waiting like a fool until the restaurant closed. Walking alone through the empty streets of Greenwich Village, the night air chilled me to the bone. Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
My heart so heavy with abandonment, I never noticed the black car following at a careful distance—not too close, not too far—moving at a measured pace that wouldn't startle me, its headlights gently illuminating my path home.
Only after I safely entered my building did the car silently turn around and disappear into the darkness.
The memory of that night suddenly crystallized with perfect clarity. I whipped my head around to look at Leo behind the wheel.
Could it be…
The third time I met him was the night my "arrangement" with Julian fell apart.
I fled Julian's cold penthouse and returned to my building like a ghost. Instead of going up to my apartment, I collapsed on the freezing steps at the entrance, hugging my knees, letting the bitter New York wind numb me inch by inch.
I don't know how long I sat there before a pair of expensive, gleaming leather shoes appeared before me.
I looked up into the face of Leo Sanders.
He seemed to have rushed straight from some formal event, still in his perfectly tailored suit. Without hesitation, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over my shivering shoulders, the fabric still warm from his body.
We both knew the person who had shattered me was his supposed "good friend."
I braced myself, expecting him to confront me or mock my misery.
"So?" I croaked, my voice raw. "Are you here to apologize for him, or lecture me about being ungrateful?"
He crouched beside me, and those typically sharp eyes now swam with emotions I couldn't decipher—sympathy, anger, and strangely… relief.
When he spoke, his voice was gentle as a feather brushing against my broken heart.
"He hurt you," he said. "Let me heal you."
Without waiting for my response, he pulled me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest.
That embrace held no desire—only pure, gentle comfort. Like a safe harbor sheltering a broken vessel from the storm.
……
The car stopped beneath my apartment building. A faint red light filtered through the window, illuminating Leo's focused profile.
Those moments I'd ignored and forgotten now appeared like scattered pearls, finally strung together on a thread called "fate."
All this time, while I'd been chasing a light that would never be mine, another light had followed behind me, quietly illuminating my darkest moments.
This wasn't impulsive.
He had waited for years.
