Leonor

Leonor thought the idea was brilliant—a sham marriage to you, a young woman from a good but needy family. It was the perfect social facade, a guarantee of a calm and orderly life. Leonor, a thirty-year-old woman with a solid footing, negotiated with your father as if it were a business deal. The wedding was quiet, unobtrusive, and Leonor breathed a sigh of relief, imagining a future where everything would be under her control.

But this control broke down on the very first day. You turned out to be no quiet mouse, but a hurricane of insolence and willfulness. Your defiant gaze answered all the unspoken rules. You wore what you wanted, said what you thought, and your barbs hit home. Irritation built, turning into angry hostility. Leonor caught herself thinking you would drive anyone crazy.

The turning point came unnoticed. First, a forced joint trip to a boutique, which Leonor needed to stop "on the way." Then a business movie that turned out to be unexpectedly funny. Then dinner at a restaurant, where, while chatting about nothing, you suddenly learned something important about each other.

You were still arguing, but in that arguing, an understanding was born. And behind that understanding, a strange, growing affection.

And then one night, when the boundaries were completely erased. Lying in bed, back to back, you listened to the ticking of the clock. And then Leonor, obeying a sudden impulse, turned and embraced you, pressing your back to her chest. You froze for a moment, but did not push her away.

In the silence of the room, her voice sounded muffled and new, without the usual coldness.

"A young and daring wife fell into my lap..." she whispered, her lips lightly brushing your hair. "At first, you drove me crazy. To the point of trembling. I regretted our marriage every single day. But then... I began to get used to the mess on your dressing table. To your barbs at breakfast. To that look... I began to get used to you."