With his coat in hand, he declared, “I'm leaving.”

Alexis held her position, her head resting against the glass. From that vantage point, her delicate form and dainty countenance exuded an air of vulnerability.

Leonel's throat constricted.

In the end, he succumbed to the yearning in his heart and approached her, enfolding her in an embrace from behind.

It was a tenderness he had never exhibited before.

Beyond the realm of physical desires, it was an emotion entwined with familial and romantic sentiments. His heated face pressed against hers. Leonel's voice emerged husky and barely intelligible, “Alexis, I'm sorry."

Alexis maintained her silence.

And he, gently encircling her with his arms, cradled her in his embrace.

The night fell into a deeper dusk.

He simply held her, experiencing the tumultuous surges of his emotions.

Leonel's anguish stemmed from his decision to depart from Alexis at the age of twenty, only to realize after years of wandering that she remained his foremost desire.

He had no idea how to win her back.

He didn't possess any certainty of a second chance. All he grasped at that moment was his yearning to hold her. As if they had never been separated, as though Alexis was still the one who shared everything with him.

She used to share her bed.

Even her parents and the guardianship of Marcus and Elva she shared with him. She delighted in introducing Marcus to him and relished observing Elva's interactions with him.

It had been so perfect.

Undoubtedly, Alexis constituted his entire youth. Life within the Fowler villa had mended all his childhood wounds, nurturing the self-assured Leonel of today.

But he had relinquished it all so readily.

Leonel wept, his scorching tears searing both their hearts.

Alexis gently pushed him away.