Irene claps once, delighted.
“Well,” she says, “at least your eyes still work.”
“Agood start,” Susan adds. “But don’t you dare make it easy on him. No. He better work damn hard.”
“Damn hard,” Irene echoes with a knowing nod.
Mason wiggles his brows. “He already is. That production value? Babe, that’s a man who’s ready to get on his knees in emotional 4K.”
“Shut. Up.” My face is on fire. “Shut up, all of you.”
But I can’t stop staring at the screen.
At him.
At the boy who broke me.
At the boy who is trying — really trying — to put the pieces back.
A dangerous thought curls through me.
What if he means every word?
What if this isn’t a game?
What if this is real?
My pulse trips again.
Irene leans in, softer this time.
“All joking aside, honey… someone fighting for you like that? It’s rare. It doesn’t mean you forgive him. It doesn’t mean you forget. But it does mean he’s not giving up.”
Aunt Susan places a warm hand on my back.
“You don’t have to decide anything tonight. Let the boy sweat a little.”
I laugh.
It comes out shaky.
But when I look back at Leo’s face on the screen…
the laughter fades.
Because for the first time…
I’m not angry.
I’m not numb.
I’m not running.
I’m just…
feeling.
Alive.
