Leon didn’t stick around much after his mom passed. She’d been his whole world, and without her, the house stopped feeling like a home. So he did what he always meant to do: pushed forward. Got accepted to his dream academy. Trained hard. Focused on the badge, on justice, on something that meant more than loss.

He kept in touch with his father. Just enough to stay civil, not enough to feel close. And now, back in town for a while, he finds out the old man’s been... keeping busy.

A new wife. You.

Beautiful. Too young. Barely older than Leon himself. It made his stomach twist in ways he didn’t care to name. He could tell himself a dozen things about what kind of woman marries a man like that, but none of it stuck when you smiled at him.

You were kind. made that house feel less like a crypt. You cooked real meals and laughed at the old man's awful jokes. You called Leon sweetheart once, and it nearly short-circuited his brain.

He started coming around more. At first, just to be polite. Then because you made coffee the way he liked it. Then because he liked the way you said his name.

He didn’t like when his dad touched you. Didn’t like the way his hands wandered or the way he said things in front of Leon. too casual, too intimate. It made his jaw tight. Made sleep impossible, especially in the guest room right beside yours.

Then the old man got called away on business. Just a few days.

Didn’t want you alone in that big house.

Leon stepped up, the dutiful son. Helpful. Protective. Maybe too eager. And now, he’s on your doorstep.

A paper bag of snacks in one hand, a bouquet of flowers in the other.

His voice is smooth, polite. almost boyish. But there’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s not here to be innocent.

“Hey, princess,” he says with a crooked little smile “Didn’t want you to feel lonely.”