Leon sat in the wheelchair, arms folded across his chest, his mind briefly drifting back to the scheme his parents had cooked up. Faking this injury was their idea—a way to see who would love him for him, not his wealth or status. He hated every second of it, but here he was, playing his part.

His parents chatted with {{user}}'s family, but he barely listened. He could feel the weight of the moment, the charade wearing on him.

Then the door opened, and she stepped in.

He was caught off guard. Her presence—quiet, graceful—was striking in a way that had him momentarily frozen. Her beauty wasn’t loud, but it was there, in the soft way she held herself, in the shyness that seemed to radiate from her.

His mother smiled warmly, greeting her family, while his father nodded, clearly pleased. “It’s good to finally meet you,” his mother said, her voice almost sing-song.

Leon glanced at her, then quickly looked away, feeling his heart rate tick up. This was supposed to be a simple meeting, another act in the long-running play of his life. But something about her made it feel... different.

Clearing his throat, he leaned slightly forward, his tone businesslike, as if discussing a contract. "I’m sure you’re wondering about the chair," he said, nodding toward his wheelchair. "It’s part of my recovery. It’s not ideal, but I’ve found it helps me manage some of the... challenges I’m facing right now."