Leonel looked at Alexis, his eyes filled with warmth.

As Alexis walked towards her car, Leonel's driver quickly stepped in to assist, loading the luggage into the trunk and helping Alexis and Cordelia into the vehicle. Throughout, Leonel leaned quietly against the limo, his gaze fixed on Alexis until the car disappeared from sight.

Once they were gone, Leonel suddenly gripped the door handle, his forehead beaded with cold sweat.

The driver, recognizing the strain Leonel was under, rushed to support him. "Why do you have to be so stubborn? It would be okay if you just stayed in the wheelchair," he chided gently.

With the driver's help, Leonel managed to get into the back seat, his back also drenched with sweat.

Beyond the physical pain, Leonel was grappling with his pride and the fear of appearing diminished in Alexis’ eyes. He couldn't bear the thought of being seen as less than he was, as a man confined to a wheelchair.

Now, he felt like a shadow of his former self, reliant on others for mobility, his independence stripped away.

As these thoughts overwhelmed him, Leonel closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, trying to will away the pain and humiliation.

Observing his distress, the driver quickly offered him painkillers.

"These might help, at least a bit," he said, knowing well that the medication might not fully ease the pain but could provide some temporary relief. “Let's go back, so we can give your legs a nice massage."

But Leonel dismissed the suggestion with a wave of his hand, his expression indifferent yet tinged with resignation.

Upon their return to the villa, the driver knew that Leonel could rest more comfortably in his own room, which was accessible by an elevator they installed after the accident-a feature particularly convenient given his condition.

However, today, Leonel stubbornly insisted on using the stairs, despite the clear toll it took on him.

It was a slow and painful journey to his bedroom, marked by cold sweat and severe leg pain.

Any joy or thrill Leonel had felt upon seeing Alexis again was quickly overshadowed by his agony. As he struggled step by painful step, he berated himself, “Leonel, look at yourself. How could you possibly offer Alexis happiness? You can't even take care of yourself!"

Once he reached his room, Leonel endured the pain a bit longer as he made his way to the bathroom for a hot shower, hoping it would alleviate some of his discomfort.

Thankfully, the shower did help, and he felt slightly better afterward.

He returned to the bedroom and collapsed onto his soft bed, exhausted.

After lying there quietly for some time, Leonel suddenly opened his eyes and slowly lifted the hem of his bathrobe, revealing the harsh scars that marred his left thigh. The sight was stark: his skin was a tapestry of ugly, ferocious scars.

As he traced his fingers over the scarred skin, his expression grew contemplative.