One month had passed since the night Ysabel first kissed Leonardo.

One month since the wall she’d built between them slowly started to crumble. One month of nights that weren’t always passionate, but always together. One month of quiet mornings full of lingering butterflies, and afternoons of exchanged glances and offers of coffee.

No formal confession yet. No “I love you.”

But they woke up together. Fingers sometimes intertwined across the dining table. Eyes that understood each other ...