Maya had spent years imagining what she might say if she ever saw Leon again.
Every version was calm.
Controlled.
Witty, even.
Reality, however, was far quieter.
They stood in the soft glow of the gala lights — two people who once existed in parallel lines now facing each other again. The orchestra played a slow waltz in the background, the kind that made the whole room feel suspended in time.
Leon was the first to break the silence.
"You look…" He paused, searching for the right word. Not a careless compliment. Something honest. "Different."
Maya arched a brow slightly. "So do you."
A small smile tugged at his lips. It was the kind of smile that didn't quite reach his eyes — not yet — but softened the years between them.
"I wasn't sure it was you," he continued. "You look… stronger."
Maya didn't blush like she would have in high school.
She simply folded her arms loosely, protective but composed.
"I grew up."
"That's obvious." He hesitated. "In a good way."
There was sincerity in his tone, but also something else — a hint of regret. A shadow of all the words he never said back then.
Maya lifted her camera a little, tapping the strap gently. "I'm working tonight. I should probably—"
"Can we talk?" Leon interrupted gently, almost cautiously. "Just for a moment."
Her breath caught. She wasn't expecting that.
"Talk?" she echoed.
He nodded. "If you're willing."
A part of her wanted to walk away — not out of anger, but out of discipline. Out of the principle she had built her life around: don't chase; don't cling; don't reopen doors without purpose.
But another part of her…
The part that remembered the umbrella, the quiet boy with the tired eyes, the unanswered questions—
That part leaned toward him unconsciously.
She exhaled. "Five minutes."
Leon's shoulders eased a little. "I'll take it."
---
They stepped to the side of the hall, near a tall window overlooking the city. Lights shimmered across the skyline, reflected in the glass like scattered diamonds.
For a moment, they simply stood there, the silence not quite comfortable, not quite tense — something in between.
Leon was the first to speak.
"I heard you became a photographer."
"You heard?" She studied him. "From who?"
He shrugged. "People talk. Your name comes up more than you think."
Maya blinked, thrown off balance for a second. "I didn't realize anyone remembered me."
"I did," he said quietly.
Her heart stuttered.
That wasn't the answer she expected.
He glanced at her camera. "Your work is beautiful. Real. Thoughtful."
Then, softer: "It suits you."
Maya swallowed, unsure how to respond. Compliments from him — from the boy she once adored — felt dangerous, like touching a flame she had convinced herself no longer burned.
"What about you?" she asked. "Still following the Hale family path?"
Leon let out a breath that sounded almost like defeat. "Trying. My father passed two years ago."
Maya's chest tightened. "I'm sorry."
"Thank you." He looked out the window, jaw tensing. "It's been… complicated. I'm running everything now. Executives twice my age think I'm too young. Investors want more than I can give. Nothing feels like it belongs to me."
Maya studied him carefully.
The exhaustion she had seen in his eyes in high school — it wasn't gone.
It had matured, deepened, grown sharper.
"You always carried too much," she said softly.
He glanced at her, surprised. "You noticed even then?"
"I noticed everything," she admitted before she could stop herself.
Leon held her gaze.
For the first time, his expression cracked, revealing something raw — gratitude mixed with something unreadable.
"I wish I had talked to you back then," he murmured.
It wasn't a dramatic confession.
It was an honest one.
Maya's breath hitched.
He continued. "I saw you, Maya. More than you think. I just didn't know how to… be close to anyone. Not with the pressure I was under."
Her heart beat once. Hard.
She steadied herself. "That was a long time ago."
"And yet here we are," Leon said quietly.
The words hung between them like a thread waiting to be pulled.
Maya looked away first, grounding herself.
"You didn't come to this gala for a reunion," she reminded him.
"No," he admitted. "But seeing you here…"
He took a slow breath.
"It feels like the first good thing that's happened to me in a long time."
A soft tremor moved through her.
Not from old feelings — but from new ones forming with alarming clarity.
The air between them shifted.
This was no longer the past resurfacing.
This was something present.
Real.
Adult.
Undeniable.
Maya forced herself to take a step back.
"I should get back to work," she whispered.
Leon nodded, but his eyes didn't leave hers.
"Will I see you again?"
She hesitated.
Then—
"That depends on you."
Leon inhaled sharply — a quiet, surprised breath.
For the first time that night, his eyes held a spark.
Interest.
Resolve.
Something like pursuit.
"I won't waste the chance this time," he said.
Maya's pulse fluttered.
She turned away before he saw the effect his words had on her.
But as she walked back into the crowd, she felt his gaze following her — not the gaze of a boy admired from afar…
…but the gaze of a man who finally saw her.
And the story that was supposed to have ended years ago
was beginning again.