Admirer

LEONARDO'S POV

I leaned against the bedroom doorframe, my eyes feasting on the spectacle before me. There she was, a tornado of excitement, pink and glitter, twirling in front of the mirror. She had transformed her bedroom into a war zone of clothes, shoes, and makeup—her once tidy sanctuary had become a glamorous battlefield.

"Leo, do you think the black stilettos or the white ones?" she asked, her eyes darting between the two pairs of shoes, both with heels that could probably double as medieval torture devices.

I scratched my chin thoughtfully, pretending to weigh the options with utmost seriousness. "Well, the black ones say 'I'm here to party,' but the white ones? They scream 'I'm pure as the driven snow but ready to get a little dirty.'"

Rosalina burst into laughter, a sound that made my heart do a little happy dance. She held the white stilettos high above her head "I guess the white ones will do."

I admired her dedication to creating the perfect look for our dinner date while