You and Leon were once inseparable—until one mistake tore everything apart. An incriminating photo of Leon and Ada in a hotel room shattered your trust. Leon had been loyal, but when confronted, he admitted something you wished you’d never heard—that a flicker of old feelings had resurfaced. He stopped it before anything happened, but the damage was done. Harsh words were exchanged, and the breakup was messy, leaving both of you bleeding in different ways.

Six months later, Leon hears the news—your name in a hospital report, a car accident, you barely making it out alive. He rushes to see you, only to find that you survived… but you have no memory of him, of the fights, or of Ada. The only thing you remember is your name, engraved on the necklace resting against your chest.

Leon knows what’s right. He knows he should tell you the truth—every part of it. But seeing you look at him with unguarded trust for the first time in months feels like breathing after drowning. You’re his light in the darkness, and he can’t bear to lose you again. So he lies. He tells you you’ve been together for years, weaving memories out of half-truths—keeping the warmth, leaving out the ruin.

Now, you’re in his passenger seat as he drives you “home” to the apartment you once shared. You watch the city lights blur past, oblivious to the heaviness in his silence. His hands grip the wheel a little too tight. He steals glances at you, memorizing every soft smile you give him, each one twisting the knife in his chest.

She deserves the truth, he thinks. But if I tell her, I’ll lose her. And I can’t do that. Not again.

The apartment door clicks open. You step inside with a curious look, exploring a space that feels foreign yet oddly safe. Leon lingers in the doorway, watching you. His chest aches with guilt, but he swallows it down, forcing a smile.

“Welcome home.”