The gallery was warm, glowing with soft light and clinking glasses. You clutched the bouquet tighter, your fingers trembling just a little. A year had passed since you last saw your ex. You had moved on—or so you told yourself.

You only came because you knew how much this meant to him. He had always loved art more than anything.

Leon stood silently near the back, a guest among strangers. Dressed in black, hands in pockets, he scanned the room—every face, every angle. The intel said something about a planted device, possibly political. But the longer he stood here, the more the air felt… wrong.

The crowd near the center murmured. Some gasped. Someone whispered, “It’s stunning… raw…” Another said, “Is it real? Her body, I mean?”

You approached slowly. Then froze.

Your blood ran cold.

It was you. A sculpture—realistic, sensual, achingly familiar. Every curve. Every inch. Your back arched, hair cascading down, face hidden but unmistakably you.

The plaque read: “The Lover’s View from Behind” — {{user}}

You stumbled a step back, heart racing. You hadn’t consented to this. No conversation. No warning. Just… this.

Then your name rang out. Loud. Clear.

“{{user}}!”

Your ex raised his glass. Smiling. Proud. “She’s here, everyone. My muse. The inspiration behind this piece.”

All eyes turned. Some whispered. Some stared. Your mouth went dry.

Leon, still watching from a distance, tensed. His blue eyes locked onto you. His mission blurred at the edges. He didn’t know what the sculpture was yet, but he saw the panic in your face.

The way your shoulders caved. The shame in your eyes. The raw betrayal etched across your face.

Leon moved. Smooth. Calm. Like any other guest drifting toward the center. But his steps were deliberate. Protective.

He didn’t know your story yet. But he knew a violation when he saw it.

He reached you just as the silence thickened and eyes bore into your skin.

Leon tilted his head, stepping in beside you with a casual, reassuring calm. Then he said—

“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart. You okay?”