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Rain hammered against the glass walls of the twenty-third-floor penthouse while the city below drowned in silver lights and blurred reflections. Neon signs flickered through the storm like fractured stars, painting the room in shades of blue and white every time lightning split the sky. Ava stood barefoot near the towering window, her silk dress slipping carelessly from one shoulder, a crystal glass of untouched wine trembling slightly between her fingers. The storm outside felt alive tonight — angry, relentless, almost personal. She hated storms. Especially this one. Thunder rolled across the city with enough force to shake the glass beneath her fingertips. Ava inhaled slowly, trying to steady herself, trying not to remember all the nights she had spent alone after he left. Behind her, the elevator doors opened with a soft metallic chime. “You still freeze during thunder.” The deep voice cut through the room instantly. Ava’s eyes closed before she could stop herself. She knew that voice better than her own heartbeat. Leon Vale. The man who had once consumed her entire world. Three years ago, he had disappeared without warning. No goodbye. No explanation. No apology. Just silence — cold and brutal enough to leave permanent scars inside her chest. She had searched for answers for months before finally forcing herself to stop. Every relationship afterward had failed because none of them were him. And now he stood inside her apartment as if the years between them had never happened. Leon wore a black suit darkened by rain, the fabric clinging slightly to his broad shoulders. Water still glistened along the sharp line of his jaw, and his dark hair looked messier than she remembered. But his eyes… Those dangerous, calm eyes were exactly the same. The kind capable of unraveling every defense she had ever built. “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, though the words lacked conviction. “And yet,” Leon replied quietly, stepping farther into the penthouse, “you opened the door downstairs.” Because part of her always would. That was the truth she hated most. Leon moved closer with slow, measured steps. The scent of rain, cedarwood cologne, and memories wrapped around her instantly. Her pulse betrayed her before he even touched her. His gaze traveled over her slowly — her bare legs, the exposed curve of her shoulder, the way her fingers tightened around the wine glass. “You look at me like you hate me,” he murmured. Ava let out a soft laugh filled with bitterness. “I practiced for years.” The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. God, she hated that smile too. Another violent thunderclap shattered the silence. Ava flinched instinctively. Leon noticed immediately. He always noticed. Without asking permission, he gently removed the wine glass from her hand and placed it on the marble counter nearby. Then he stepped behind her, close enough for warmth to spread along her spine without a single touch. “You still count between lightning and thunder?” he asked softly. “Yes.” “Then count.” Lightning illuminated the room. “One…” Leon’s hand settled lightly against her waist. “Two…” His breath brushed the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “Three…” Ava forgot the next number entirely when his lips grazed the spot below her ear with devastating softness. Her body reacted instantly. Leon felt it too. His fingers tightened slightly against her waist while silence stretched heavily between them, thick with everything they had never resolved. “You left me,” she whispered. “I know.” “You broke me.” His voice lowered further. “I know that too.” Pain flickered behind Ava’s eyes. “Then why are you here?” This time Leon turned her around slowly until only inches separated them. Close enough to kiss. Close enough to ruin her again. “Because leaving you was the worst mistake I ever made.” The honesty in his voice hurt more than anger ever could. Ava searched his face for deception, but all she found was exhaustion. Real exhaustion. The kind carried by people haunted by regret every single day of their lives. “You don’t get to walk back into my life and touch me like nothing happened.” Leon’s thumb brushed slowly across her lower lip, intimate enough to steal her breath. “Then tell me to stop.” She should have. God knew she should have. Instead, Ava kissed him. The collision between them was immediate and explosive — violent desperation crashing into years of buried longing. Leon pulled her against him instantly, one hand gripping her waist while the other slid into her hair. Outside, thunder roared like applause. Ava tasted rain on his lips. Missed him in every possible way. Leon kissed like a man starving after years without water — slow at first, almost careful, before hunger overtook restraint completely. Every touch carried tension, guilt, and memories too powerful to survive untouched. When his hand slipped beneath the silk at her thigh, Ava gasped softly against his mouth. “Still sensitive,” he whispered roughly. “You remember too much.” His forehead rested briefly against hers. “I remember everything.” Leon lifted her effortlessly onto the marble kitchen counter. The cold stone against her thighs made her shiver, but his hands quickly replaced the chill with warmth. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They simply looked at each other. Three years apart. Three years angry. Three years pretending the other no longer mattered. Destroyed in one kiss. Ava slowly touched the faint scar near Leon’s collarbone, barely visible beneath the open collar of his shirt. “Where were you?” His jaw tightened instantly. “In places that would’ve ruined you if you followed me.” “That wasn’t your choice to make.” “No,” he admitted quietly. “But I’d make it again if it kept you alive.” Ava stared at him, trying to understand how someone could break her heart while still sounding like he loved her. Before she could answer, Leon kissed her again. This time slower. Deeper. More dangerous. It wasn’t desperation anymore. It was intimacy. The kind of kiss that carried apologies too heavy for words. The storm outside gradually softened, thunder fading into steady rain against the glass walls. Inside the penthouse, Leon rested his forehead against hers while their breathing slowly matched. The city lights reflected around them like scattered stars. “You know what scares me?” Ava whispered. “What?” “That I never stopped loving you.” Leon closed his eyes briefly, like the confession physically wounded him. Then he held her tighter. “Good,” he said softly. “Because I came back to love you correctly this time.”