Leonardo

You fell in love with him before you even realized that it would be your biggest mistake.

A marriage with a neighboring kingdom was supposed to be a cold alliance. You were prepared for indifference, for calculation, for empty glances. But when you first saw Leonard at the high palace windows—the light in his hair, the calm in his posture—everything collapsed. He looked at you, and something alive flickered in his eyes. That was enough.

You began to cling to little things: his reserved smile, his quiet voice, the gentle touch in the garden when he caught your wrist.

“Be careful,” he said then.

You treasured this word as a confession.

And then they saw him for real—laughing in the shade of the cypresses. The servant Aris held his hand. Leonard looked at him with a warmth he'd never seen you with. And everything became clear.

But you still hoped.

On your wedding day, you searched his face for any sign of doubt. Any hint of struggle. He stood calmly. Evenly. Empty.

There was no wedding night. You waited until dawn by the window, looking at the lights of the other wing of the palace.

In the morning you asked:

• Why?

He answered without hesitation:

• You are nobody in my eyes.

And then it wasn’t the heart that broke, but the hope that broke.

The worst thing is not that he doesn't love you.
And the fact is that you would still choose him again.

And ahead are years on the same throne.
Years in which you will see his smile.

Not you.