Anastasia's POV
Just as Aunt Lyra stepped down from the porch to welcome me, she froze halfway, her keen eyes darting from my face to the two figures standing beside me. I recognized that look immediately—she was about to speak her mind. I didn’t give her the chance.
“Mom asked me to drop these off for you,” I said smoothly, gesturing toward the stacked boxes. “Some of the items won’t last long, so you might want to organize them as soon as possible.”
I deliberately avoided looking at Leonardo—my former almost-everything. Over the past few weeks, his priorities had been painfully obvious. Still, today he surprised me by breaking the silence, his voice carefully neutral, as though rehearsed.
“Anastasia, don’t get the wrong idea,” he said. “Camila’s previous apartment was in a questionable area. I wasn’t comfortable leaving her there alone, so I helped her find a place nearby. I didn’t realize it was so close to your aunt’s house.” His gaze flicked to the crates. “Why are there so many boxes?”
As I directed the driver to move everything inside Aunt Lyra’s kitchen, I answered without emotion.
“You don’t owe me explanations, Leonardo. My mother arranged this. We don’t know when we’ll return, so she sent extra supplies.”
The moment I spoke so indifferently, I saw his shoulders relax—an ease that made irritation spark in my chest.
“That’s fine,” he said lightly. “North Ridge is only a short drive away. If you need anything, just let me know.”
As if we were still close enough for casual offers.
What he didn’t know—and what I had no intention of revealing—was that I wasn’t visiting. I was staying. Permanently.
Aunt Lyra, who had been quietly observing everything, finally broke her silence.
“Leonardo, you and Anastasia have known each other almost your entire lives. Is this really where things stand now? It would be a pity to let unspoken tensions undo years of history.”
Before he could respond, I shook my head, keeping my voice steady.
“There’s nothing to clarify, Aunt Lyra. Leonardo isn’t the type to hesitate when something matters to him. If he hasn’t said anything by now, then there’s nothing left to discuss.”
Camila shifted beside him, visibly drained, and his attention snapped to her instantly.
“You don’t look well,” he said softly, concern unmistakable.
Turning to the delivery driver, he added, “Pause unloading for a moment. We’ll take the elevator first.”
I stepped aside without comment as he guided her forward. Leonardo hesitated briefly, his eyes searching mine—as if waiting for a reaction—but when I gave him none, he ushered Camila into the elevator without another word.
As the doors closed, the mirrored surface caught a fleeting image: Camila’s expression full of gratitude, Leonardo standing protectively at her side. The sight dragged an old memory to the surface—years ago, when he had first asked me to move in with him, smiling as he carried my luggage himself, joking that I was already halfway to becoming his wife.
Aunt Lyra exhaled slowly. “Are you sure you’re all right with this, Anastasia?”
I offered her a restrained smile.
“It doesn’t matter whether I am or not. If this is where his devotion lies, then I’ll accept it.”
Once the deliveries were finished, I decided to leave before my patience gave out. I waited outside for the car, but Leonardo and Camila still hadn’t come down. Out of courtesy—to what once existed between us—I sent him a brief text.
Are you heading back soon?
The reply arrived almost instantly, but not as a text. A voice message.
When I pressed play, Camila’s gentle, almost syrupy tone flowed through the speaker.
“Anastasia, Leonardo is helping me repair some electrical issues here. The place has been empty for a while, so there’s quite a bit to fix. You should go on ahead—don’t wait for us.”
I stared at the screen for a long moment before closing the app. A familiar sting welled up inside my chest, but I forced it down before it could turn into something messier.
As I slid into the backseat of the car, another message appeared.
“Please don’t misunderstand,” her voice added. “Leonardo is only helping me because he feels bad. Being alone in a new city is really difficult.”
The implication was clear. She depended on him. And he answered—without hesitation.
My phone rang again moments later. Leonardo’s name flashed across the screen. I answered, and his frustration was immediate.
“Anastasia, why were you so distant earlier? Camila works under me—it’s my responsibility to make sure she’s safe. Her situation is temporary until housing is finalized. Surely you understand that helping her is reasonable.”
I let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
“Since when do you put this much effort into your employees? At the last company gala, you left early claiming you weren’t feeling well. I didn’t question it. But now you’re rearranging your life for her?”
Soft crying filtered through the background.
Camila’s voice followed, fragile and carefully measured.
“Leonardo… maybe I should go. I don’t want to cause issues between you and Anastasia.”
His response was immediate, sharp with protectiveness.
“No one’s going anywhere. Don’t listen to that.”
The tone hit harder than I expected. He hadn’t spoken to me like that in years.
I inhaled slowly, pressing my emotions back into place.
“You’re right,” I said calmly. “That was my mistake. I shouldn’t have asked. I’ve already left—don’t worry about coming back for me.”
I ended the call before he could say anything else.
And for the first time, I didn’t look back.
