The email came from Leon's publicist.
Short. Professional. Understated.
A reputable lifestyle magazine is requesting a feature on the two of you—nothing invasive. Just a conversation, a few photos, a profile that captures the real story. We can decline, but this is the kind of narrative we don't often get to control. Your call.
Aria read it three times.
Then looked at Leon.
"Do you want to?"
He didn't answer right away.
Just met her gaze, steady as stone.
"Only if we do it on our terms."
They didn't agree to a glossy puff piece.
They didn't invite cameras into their bedroom or offer childhood sob stories.
But they said yes.
To an interview.
To a photograph.
To a truth they were finally willing to share.
The magazine crew arrived at the penthouse two weeks later.
Two writers.
One photographer.
No drama.
No spin.
Aria wore a silk blouse and loose pants, barefoot and quiet. Leon answered the door himself, in dark slacks and rolled-up sleeves.
Not the CEO look.
Just… him.
And for once, that was enough.
The questions weren't rehearsed.
"What changed after the scandal?"
"How do you define privacy as a couple in the public eye?"
"What surprised you most about each other?"
To Aria's relief, no one asked about rings.
No one asked about weddings.
But when the journalist asked:
"When did you know it was love?"—Aria answered first.
"In a storm," she said simply. "When I said it first, and he didn't run."
Leon smiled then.
Didn't say a word.
But the look on his face said everything she'd ever need to hear.
The photos were simple.
No designer sets.
Just Leon on the couch, one arm across the backrest.
Aria sitting cross-legged beside him, facing slightly away but leaning into his space like she belonged there.
Because she did.
One shot captured her mid-laugh, head thrown back, Leon watching her with a half-smile and softened eyes.
Another showed her reaching for his hand instinctively between questions.
That one made the cover.
No title.
Just a black-and-white image and the smallest caption beneath:
Leon Castellan & Aria Rousseau — First Steps.
The night before the article went live, Aria couldn't sleep.
She stood by the window, city glowing below, nerves crackling under her skin.
Leon came up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist.
"You okay?"
"I don't know."
"Do you regret it?"
"No," she said quietly. "But I'm scared."
"Of what they'll say?"
"Of how it'll change us."
Leon didn't speak at first.
Then he kissed her shoulder.
"Let them look. Let them guess. The only thing that changes us is what we choose."
She turned in his arms.
Met his gaze.
And exhaled.
"Then we choose to be seen."
The next morning, the story dropped.
Within hours, #FirstSteps trended worldwide.
People weren't cruel.
They were… curious.
Moved, even.
It wasn't a fairytale.
It wasn't polished.
But it felt real.
Because it was.
And Aria?She went to sleep that night with her head on Leon's chest, his heartbeat beneath her ear, and not a single unanswered question between them.