APRIL’S POV
The Saturday morning sun spilled through Leo’s apartment window, brushing across his cluttered bookshelves and the coffee mugs he never quite got around to washing. I leaned against the counter, stirring my tea slowly, trying to steady the quick thump in my chest.
Being here alone with him, away from campus and its safe routines, felt almost too real (like I’d stepped into a life that wasn’t entirely mine yet).
Leo came in from the kitchen carrying a plate piled with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and a small heap of fruit. “For the artist-in-residence,” he said, grinning as he set it in front of me.
I laughed, taking the plate. “You remembered breakfast.”
“I don’t forget the important things.” He set his coffee down beside me, and his eyes held mine a second longer than usual.
