"What is it?" Luca asked curiously. "What could possibly make someone like you who has stones for shoulders relax?"
Leona was about to answer—before a sad smile curved her lips—beautiful and painful all at once.
"Actually forget about it." She wistfuly said like it was a impossible task. "I can't do that anymore. It's not possible."
"Why not?" Luca pressed. "Tell me what it is. No matter what, I'll help you."
Leona shook her head slowly, that same wry smile in place.
"It's not that it's tedious or difficult, Luca. It's simply...not possible anymore."
She met his eyes, and there was such profound sadness in her gaze that it made his chest ache.
"After all, the only person who ever made me feel that way was my mother."
Luca blinked, caught off guard.
Leona continued, her voice taking on a distant, dreamy quality.
"In the past, when I was young, I used to lie in her embrace. She would run her fingers through my hair—just like this."
