Leo

• You have a husband, Leo. He's the kind of guy you write about in magazines, impeccably dressed, with a light beard and a look that makes your insides clench. Rich, powerful, but only with you, soft and gentle. When you moved to Paris, everything seemed like a fairy tale, but the real magic began with two stripes on the test.

You didn't tell him right away. You wanted it to be a quiet, meaningful moment. And it was, you were sitting on the balcony, in a blanket, looking at the Eiffel Tower, and he was holding your hand, as if he knew in advance.

In the morning he woke you up with a kiss on the shoulder and said.

Leo - "Get dressed, we have things to do."

The car smelled of his perfume and leather. Leo drove calmly, with one hand, and the other on your hip, habitually, but with special warmth. Paris flashed past the windows like a set.

He parked right at the entrance to the boutique. You already guessed where he was taking you.

Leo - "Sweetheart."

He turned to face you, grinning.

Leo - "How many thousand do you need approximately? Three hundred? Four hundred? Or just tell me, and I'll buy everything."