Leon stared at his chemistry textbook, the formulas blurring together. It was 11 PM, and his small desk lamp was the only light in the apartment. He should sleep—early shift again tomorrow—but his mind kept drifting.

  The phone call from this morning lingered.

  He closed the textbook and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. Lately, he'd been thinking about the past more than usual. Maybe because the present felt so... empty.

  Twelve years ago.

  "Grandpa, who's that?"

  Leon had been hiding behind his grandfather's leg, peeking out at the girl standing in the garden. She wore a white dress and had long dark hair tied with a ribbon. She looked older than him, and she wasn't smiling.

  "That's Iris," his grandfather said, patting his head. "Go say hello."

  "I don't want to."

  "Leon."

  The way Grandpa said his name meant it wasn't a request. Leon shuffled forward, stopping a few feet away from the girl.

  "Hi," he mumbled.

  Iris looked at him, her expression neutral. "You're Leon?"

  He nodded.

  "You're small for six."

  "I'm not small!"

  "You are."

  His face burned. Before he could respond, Iris walked past him toward the pond at the edge of the garden. Leon stood there, fists clenched, unsure what to do.

  "Are you coming or not?" she called back without turning around.

  He hesitated, then followed.

  That was how it started.

  Ten years ago.

  "Leon, watch!"

  Iris stood on the low stone wall surrounding the fountain, arms stretched out for balance. She walked heel-to-toe along the narrow edge.

  "You're going to fall," Leon said, standing below with his hands out just in case.

  "I won't."

  "You will!"

  She made it halfway around before wobbling. Leon lurched forward, but she caught herself, laughing. Actually laughing. Back then, she used to laugh.

  "See? Told you."

  "You almost fell!"

  "But I didn't."

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  She jumped down beside him, grinning. Her hair was shorter then, just past her shoulders. She was ten. He was nine. They'd spent almost every weekend together for the past two years—their grandfathers were close friends, business partners from decades ago.

  "Your turn," she said.

  "No way."

  "Scared?"

  "It's dangerous!"

  "You're such a baby, Leon."

  But she said it without any real bite. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the garden path instead. "Come on, let's see if the kitchen made those cookies yet."

  He let himself be dragged along, complaining but not really meaning it.

  Those were good days.

  Eight years ago.

  Leon sat on the front steps of his grandfather's house, waiting. Iris was supposed to visit today, but she was late. Really late.

  When the car finally pulled up, she stepped out looking... different. Older, somehow, even though only a few months had passed. She wore a business-style dress, and her hair was pulled back severely. She didn't run up to the house like she used to.

  "Iris!"

  She glanced at him, then away. "Hello, Leon."

  That was it. No smile. No teasing. Just a polite greeting like he was a stranger.

  "Are we going to—"

  "I can't stay long. I have a meeting."

  "A meeting? But you just got here."

  "Yes. A meeting."

  She walked past him into the house. He followed, confused. Inside, she spoke with his grandfather for maybe twenty minutes—he couldn't hear what they were saying—and then she was leaving again.

  "Wait, when will you come back?"

  She paused at the door. For a moment, something flickered across her face. Then it was gone.

  "I don't know. I'm busy now."

  The car door closed. She didn't look back.

  Leon stood on the steps long after the car disappeared, trying to understand what had just happened.

  Seven years ago.

  "Leon." His grandfather's voice was weak, the hospital machines beeping steadily in the background. "Come here."

  Leon approached the bed, his chest tight. He was twelve. He shouldn't be here. This shouldn't be happening.

  "Listen carefully." Grandpa's hand found his. "You remember the promise I made with Iris's grandfather?"

  Leon nodded.

  "When you're older... you and Iris will marry. It's already arranged. Do you understand?"

  "I..." Leon swallowed. "But she doesn't even talk to me anymore."

  "She will. She's just... becoming who she needs to be. But you, Leon—you need to stay who you are. Promise me."

  "I don't understand."

  "You will." His grandfather squeezed his hand weakly.

  A week later, his grandfather was gone.

  The funeral was small. Iris attended, standing in the back wearing black. She didn't approach him. Didn't say a single word. When it ended, she left.

  Leon watched her go, feeling more alone than he ever had.

  Present.

  Leon opened his eyes, blinking at his desk. When had he zoned out?

  The textbook was still in front of him. The chemistry test was still tomorrow. Nothing had changed.

  Except everything had.

  He thought about that girl who used to laugh, who used to walk on stone walls and steal cookies from the kitchen with him. Then he thought about the woman on the phone this morning—cold, distant, barely able to spare a minute.

  They'd gotten married last year. A quiet ceremony, no guests, just signatures on documents. He'd been driven to her estate—a place so vast he'd gotten lost trying to find the bathroom. Iris had worn a simple dress. They'd stood in one of her private offices for twenty minutes with her personal law firm executive presenting the documents. She'd signed her name, he'd signed his, and that was it.

  "This doesn't change anything," she'd said afterward. "You continue as you were. Don't tell anyone. Don't contact me unless necessary."

  "Okay," he'd said, because what else was there to say?

  She'd left. He'd been driven back to his apartment. That was ten months ago.

  Since then: four phone calls, all initiated by him, all under five minutes. Three text messages, all from her, all instructions or reminders about legal documents he needed to sign. One wire transfer for "emergency funds" that he'd tried to refuse but she'd sent anyway.

  The most powerful person in the world.

  His wife.

  Someone he barely knew anymore.

  Leon closed his textbook and turned off the lamp. Sleep. He needed sleep.

  Tomorrow would be another normal day. Another shift, another school day, another night studying in this empty apartment.

  Normal.

  He climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling. Somewhere far away, Iris was probably still awake, running her empire, controlling things he couldn't even imagine.

  And here he was, worrying about chemistry tests.

  The distance between them wasn't just physical. It was everything.

  Leon closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come.