Inessa

12

Leo had the room cleaned up for me. Since that incident, he had given me no chance to leave. I had been living in his house for three days, and honestly, it was better than living alone.

With him, every evening felt safe. Every day he came back early from work so that we could eat together. I had never felt this safe and secure since coming to New York. It was strange how quickly I had adjusted to his presence, to the warmth he unknowingly provided.

Tonight, the dinner was ready, but Leo had not come. I sat on the chair, waiting for him, staring at the untouched plates. The ticking of the clock echoed in the quiet space. Time passed, and exhaustion slowly took over. My head rested against the table, my eyelids growing heavy.

"Inessa."

I stirred awake to the deep timbre of his voice. My eyes fluttered open to find him standing in front of me. It was past eleven.

"Why were you sleeping here on the chair?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. His sleeves were rolled up, one button of his shirt undone, his blazer slung over his arm. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and there was an undeniable exhaustion in his eyes. Yet, despite his weariness, he was here.

"I was waiting for you," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes softened at my words. "You didn’t have to." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Do you even realize the position you were in? Sleeping like this will hurt your neck and back. You should take better care of yourself."

I should have been used to his scolding by now. It always came from a place of concern, never anger.

"Did you have dinner?" he asked, his gaze scanning the untouched food.

"No."

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "How can you be so careless, Inessa? You should eat on time. Look at you—you look weak."

"You also didn’t have dinner," I countered, not wanting him to worry about me when he was clearly exhausted himself.

His lips pressed into a thin line before he sighed. "Okay, fine. I’ll get freshened up and be down in five minutes. Then we’ll eat together."

He left before I could protest. I quickly reheated the food, setting the table just as he came back downstairs. We ate in comfortable silence.

"This tastes good," he commented after the first few bites.

"Thank you."

He always acknowledged my efforts, no matter how small. He never failed to make me feel seen. Was it necessary for him to do this? No. But he did it anyway, and I found myself appreciating it more than I should.

"Tomorrow is the weekend. Why don’t you go shopping?" he suggested casually.

"I have everything I need."

"Still. Girls your age like to go out, shop, do things."

"I’d rather stay here."

He tilted his head, observing me. "Would you like to go out with me instead?"

I blinked. "With you?"

"Yes. Is there a problem with that?"

"No, but... I work for you. It doesn’t feel appropriate."

"You are coming with me, and that’s final," he declared, leaving no room for argument.

—

Leo was a stubborn man. Despite my continuous protests, he took me shopping the next day. He had me try countless outfits, ignoring every one of my attempts to refuse. To him, I looked beautiful in everything, even the simplest dress. It was baffling.

"Try this one," he said, handing me a soft pink dress.

The fabric was smooth under my fingers, the color delicate and elegant. It fit perfectly, as if it had been made just for me. The neckline gracefully revealed my collarbone, modest yet flattering.

When I stepped out of the fitting room, Leo’s gaze locked onto me. It was an intense stare, unwavering and unreadable. My cheeks burned under his scrutiny.

"You look beautiful," he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

I quickly looked away, feeling unworthy of such words.

He bought the dress despite my protests.

Everything with him felt so easy, so right. For once, I wasn’t living in fear. I wasn’t constantly looking over my shoulder or drowning in stress. It had been so long since I had felt anything close to this.

But I knew better than to get used to it.

I knew this kindness wouldn’t last forever.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder—how lucky would the woman be who was loved by him? If this was how he treated someone like me, how much more would he do for the one he truly loved? He would spoil her, cherish her, worship her.

Before Leo, I never knew what it felt like to be respected and cared for by a man.

And now, I wondered—would I ever know what it felt like to be loved?