Chapter 8 - THE NIGHT LEANDRO TOLD ME THE TRUTH
Leandro invited me to dinner at his home.
Not a gala.
Not a business meeting.
Just dinner.
I almost refused.
Then I remembered how he had looked at me beneath the chandeliers.
Not as a joke.
Not as a problem.
As a person.
I went.
His house stood beside a quiet lake outside Minneapolis.
It was beautiful.
But strangely empty.
We ate in a small dining room overlooking the water.
Leandro had arranged a simple meal.
Roasted chicken.
Vegetables.
Fresh bread.
No photographers.
No audience.
No expensive performance.
After dinner, we sat beside the fireplace.
He looked at me.
“Can I tell you something?”
I smiled faintly.
“Of course.”
He hesitated.
“Before the accident, I was engaged.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
“Her name was Sofia.”
He looked toward the fire.
“She left three months after the crash.”
I waited.
“She told me she couldn't bear looking at my face.”
My chest tightened.
“Leandro…”
He shook his head.
“It's all right.”
But it wasn't.
I could hear that in his voice.
He continued.
“For four years, I avoided mirrors.”
I looked at him.
“I avoided photographs. Public events. Anything that reminded me what happened.”
He touched the scar near his eye.
“People looked at me like I was damaged.”
I swallowed.
“People look at me like I'm too much.”
He turned.
I smiled sadly.
“Too big. Too loud. Too visible.”
His expression softened.
“I don't see you that way.”
I looked at him.
“And I don't see you as damaged.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Leandro reached for my hand.
“Clare.”
“Yes?”
“I think meeting you changed something.”
My heart began pounding.
May you like
I squeezed his hand.
“Maybe it changed something for both of us.”
