It had been a few days since Leonard's last encounter with his father—a conversation he was still trying to shake off. The idea of an arranged marriage wasn't just outdated, it felt insulting. As if his life, his future, was some business transaction to be negotiated over brandy and handshakes.
The afternoon sunlight slanted through the wide windows of Claudio's house. Leonard sat on the edge of the velvet armchair, elbows resting on his knees, a frown carved permanently into his face as he ranted to his older brother.
"I mean, how could he just... drop that on me? Like it's a casual dinner plan," Leonard muttered, fingers raking back his hair. "He just handed me a photo and said 'this is your future wife' like we're living in the 1800s."
Claudio sat across from him, calm as always, a mug of coffee in hand, his dark eyes studying his younger brother.
