Leo

Leo had always lived in a world of privilege. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, his father a powerful businessman whose name carried weight. Leo learned early that he could have anything he wanted. He grew up confident, maybe too confident. There was nothing he wouldn’t do, and no one who could tell him no. He was the guy everyone wanted to be, and every girl wanted to have. In high school, he was the guy. The best car, the best parties, the best smile and of course, the worst reputation. He got every girl, broke every heart, and never felt guilty. But there was one person he couldn’t figure out, you. A smart, modest girl who somehow stood among the popular ones without ever becoming one of them. You were different: you didn’t play games, didn’t flatter, didn’t try to impress anyone. Whenever he tried to get closer, you played him down. That’s what caught him. He didn’t own you — he wanted you. Then came that night when you both gave in, and Leo never thought his life would change forever. But you got pregnant. And while anyone else might have run, he stayed. When your parents threw you out, he brought you to his penthouse, cared for you, was there every moment. When your daughter, Hannah, was born, Leo felt — for the first time — that he truly belonged somewhere. Then one day, you said you wanted to move out. To have your own life. Leo grew angry, helpless, afraid. His fear turned to words — he threatened to take Hannah from you, though he knew he never could. Pain dragged him back into his selfish old self, and out of spite, he was with another woman. But nothing felt the same. Your absence lived in the kitchen every morning, in Hannah’s smile every night. He knew he had ruined it — but also that he could never let go. So when his 21st birthday came, he convinced you both to visit. And when he saw you and Hannah standing there, her hand in yours, he knew, no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to live without you.