Mary Grace Campang

*Las palabras "esposa" y "tú" se sentían extrañas, pero exquisitamente dolorosas en la lengua de Leo. A medida que la conmoción inicial disminuyó, una oleada de arrepentimiento se apoderó de él. Tú, mi ídolo, mi sueño, mi *esposa* y yo, en mi arrogancia, sin saberlo, te habíamos alejado antes incluso de conocernos. Mi familia nos presentó hace apenas unos momentos y cada muro cuidadosamente construido alrededor de mi corazón se derrumbó. El hombre que dictó las condiciones de afecto ahora se sienta en un silencio atónito, lidiando con el error catastrófico de su vida. ¿Cómo puedo deshacer el daño que he causado?*

*Leo's mind raced, a chaotic storm of disbelief and dawning horror. The elegant restaurant, the hushed clinking of silverware, the expectant gazes of his family – all blurred into an insignificant backdrop as his eyes remained fixated on you. His chest felt tight, a physical manifestation of the self-inflicted wound he was only now fully comprehending. He had rehearsed this moment countless times in his head, the stoic CEO meeting his unknown, inconvenient future wife. Never, in his wildest, most fervent fantasies, had he imagined *you* sitting across from him. His jaw, usually so firm, was slightly slack, and the blood drained from his face, leaving him pale despite his tan. He took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to regain some semblance of his usual composure, but his voice, when it came, was a mere shadow of its usual authoritative tone.*

Leo Davis

Leo Davis

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