By the time Santino returned home that evening, the sun had already begun sinking behind the trees surrounding the Rodriguez estate. The mansion was quieter than usual, with only the faint sounds of a child's voice drifting through the spacious living room.
Santino slowed as he stepped inside.
He had expected to find Cassandra doing something of her own, perhaps on her phone or working on her computer. Instead, the sight before him made him pause.
Cassandra was sitting beside Leon at the large coffee table.
Several schoolbooks were spread across the polished surface, along with notebooks, pencils, and a small ruler. Leon was bent over his mathematics workbook while Cassandra patiently explained something to him.
She pointed at a series of numbers on the page.
"Look carefully. If you have eight apples and you give three away, how many do you have left?"
Leon stared at the question with intense concentration.
"Five?"
Cassandra smiled.
"Exactly. See? You're getting it."
Leon beamed proudly.
Santino remained near the entrance without announcing himself.
He simply watched.
There was something strangely natural about the scene.
Leon wasn't tense.
He wasn't sitting rigidly with his hands folded as he usually did whenever Santino was around. Instead, he was relaxed, leaning against Cassandra's side as he worked through his exercises. Every few seconds, he'd look up at her with another question, and Cassandra answered without losing patience.
Santino's eyes softened slightly.
He hadn't realized how quickly Leon had become comfortable around her.
The woman who had only recently entered their lives was already sitting at the table, helping his son with his homework as though she'd been doing it for years.
Finally, Leon noticed him.
His entire face immediately brightened.
"Daddy!"
Cassandra's hand stopped moving for a moment, but she didn't turn around.
Leon jumped down from his chair and hurried toward Santino.
Santino opened an arm, allowing his son to come closer.
"Welcome home, Daddy!"
"Thank you, little man."
Leon grabbed his father's hand excitedly.
"Daddy, guess what?"
"What?"
"Mommy was teaching me mathematics!"
Santino glanced toward Cassandra.
Leon continued before he could say anything.
"She's really good at it. She explained everything so I could understand it. Look!"
He dragged Santino toward the table and proudly pointed at his workbook.
"I got almost all of them right!"
Santino looked down at the neatly completed questions.
"That's good."
Leon nodded enthusiastically.
"And Mommy said I can become really good if I practice every day."
Santino gave a small smile.
"She's right."
Leon looked between them, seemingly pleased that both adults agreed.
Then he returned to his chair and began putting his pencils together.
Santino's gaze shifted back to Cassandra.
She hadn't looked at him once.
Not even briefly.
She continued arranging Leon's books with deliberate concentration, as though Santino wasn't standing only a few feet away.
Santino waited.
"Cassandra."
No response.
He tried again, his voice calm.
"Good evening."
Nothing.
Her fingers continued sorting through the notebooks.
Santino's expression changed slightly.
He let out a quiet sigh.
"Cassandra."
Still nothing.
Leon glanced between them, sensing the tension.
Santino finally crouched beside his son.
"Leon, why don't you take your books upstairs and get ready for dinner?"
Leon looked at him.
"Okay, Daddy."
He gathered his workbook and pencils into his arms.
Before leaving, he looked at Cassandra.
"Thank you for helping me, Mommy."
Cassandra finally looked at him, her expression immediately softening.
"You're welcome. Go on."
Leon smiled and hurried upstairs.
His footsteps gradually disappeared down the hallway.
The moment they were alone, the atmosphere changed.
Santino straightened and looked at Cassandra.
"I'm talking to you."
Cassandra closed Leon's notebook and placed it neatly on the table.
"I heard you."
Santino frowned.
"Then why didn't you answer me?"
She finally stood.
Her movements were calm, almost too calm.
She picked up the remaining pencils and placed them into their case before looking directly at him.
"Because you have an explanation to give me."
Santino's eyebrows drew together.
"An explanation?"
Cassandra folded her arms.
"Yes."
She stared at him.
"About the sea witch who came into our house this morning."
Santino was silent for a moment.
Then he understood exactly who she meant.
"Evelyn."
Cassandra's eyes narrowed.
"So you do know who I'm talking about."
Santino exhaled slowly.
"Of course I know."
"Good."
Her voice remained controlled, but the irritation underneath it was obvious.
"Because I want to know why your girlfriend thought she could walk into my house, put her hands on your son, insult me, and behave as though I was the intruder."
Santino's jaw tightened at the mention of Leon.
"She shouldn't have touched Leon."
Cassandra watched him carefully.
"That's all you have to say?"
"No."
He stepped closer.
"There is a lot you deserve to know."
Cassandra gave a humorless smile.
"Then start talking."
Santino looked at her for a moment before quietly saying,
"Evelyn and I have been together for some time."
Cassandra's expression didn't change.
"I already know that."
"I wanted to marry her."
That made Cassandra's eyes flicker.
Santino continued.
"But she wasn't ready."
Cassandra gave a small scoff.
"And now she's suddenly ready."
"Yes."
"And you?"
Santino looked directly at her.
"I'm already married."
Cassandra's arms tightened across her chest.
"To me."
"Yes."
For several seconds, neither spoke.
The silence between them felt heavier than it had before.
Cassandra finally looked away.
"Then you should have told her that before she came into this house."
"I agree."
She turned back toward him.
"And you should have told me about her."
Santino didn't argue.
"You're right."
Cassandra hadn't expected such a quick answer, and for a moment, it left her without a response.
Santino continued in a quieter voice.
"I didn't expect her to come here. I didn't know she would confront you or Leon."
Cassandra's expression hardened again.
"Well, she did."
"I know."
"And she threatened him."
Santino's face became serious.
"That will not happen again."
Cassandra studied him carefully.
"See that it doesn't."
Santino nodded.
"I will."
For the first time since he'd walked through the door, Cassandra's anger seemed to ease slightly.
But she still wasn't ready to let him off easily.
She picked up the stack of books from the table.
"Good."
She turned away.
Then Santino's voice stopped her.
"Cassandra."
She paused.
He looked at her, his expression unusually sincere.
"Thank you for taking care of Leon today."
She glanced over her shoulder.
"I wasn't doing it for you."
"I know."
His lips curved into the faintest smile.
"You were doing it for him."
Cassandra looked toward the staircase where Leon had disappeared.
Her expression softened.
"He's a good kid."
Santino nodded.
"He is."
For a brief moment, the tension between them disappeared.
But both of them knew the conversation about Evelyn was far from over.
Time passed, and that evening, the mansion settled into a quieter rhythm.
Dinner was served in the large dining room, the long table illuminated by the warm glow of the chandeliers above. Santino sat at one end with his usual composed expression, while Cassandra sat beside Leon.
Unlike the tense atmosphere that usually surrounded Santino and Cassandra, dinner felt surprisingly peaceful.
Leon was focused on his meal, but Cassandra was even more attentive to him than she was to her own food.
She noticed that the vegetables on his plate were untouched.
"Leon, you need to eat some of these too," she said gently, moving a small portion closer to him.
Leon made a slight face.
"I don't like them."
"You don't have to like everything you eat," Cassandra replied, smiling. "Just eat a little. Then you can have more of what you like."
Leon sighed dramatically but obediently picked up his fork.
Santino watched the exchange silently.
A moment later, Cassandra noticed Leon reaching for something on the other side of the table.
"Wait, I'll get it for you."
She picked up the dish and placed it within his reach before returning to her own plate.
Leon continued eating.
Then, suddenly, he coughed.
Cassandra immediately stopped eating.
"Leon?"
She turned toward him, her expression instantly filled with concern.
Leon coughed again.
"Are you okay?"
Before he could answer, Cassandra quickly reached for his glass of water and handed it to him.
"Here. Drink slowly."
Leon took the glass with both hands and drank.
Cassandra gently rubbed his back.
"Better?"
Leon nodded.
"I'm okay, Mommy."
Cassandra exhaled in relief.
"Don't scare me like that."
Santino hadn't touched his food.
His eyes remained fixed on the two of them.
There was something strangely familiar about the scene.
The way Cassandra had reacted without hesitation.
The immediate concern in her eyes.
The way she had forgotten everything else the moment Leon coughed.
It reminded him of someone.
Leon's mother.
She had been like that with him.
Whenever Leon was sick, coughed, scraped his knee, or even complained about the smallest discomfort, she had always been the first person to rush toward him. She had possessed that same instinctive tenderness—the kind that came without calculation or hesitation.
Santino had spent years remembering those moments.
But he had never expected to see that same warmth again.
Especially not from Cassandra.
His gaze softened almost imperceptibly.
For the first time since their marriage, sitting across from his new wife did not feel like sharing a table with a stranger.
There was something about watching her care for Leon that brought a quiet sense of calmness over him.
Leon was now smiling again, completely unaware of the memories running through his father's mind.
Cassandra noticed Santino staring.
"What?"
Santino blinked and looked down at his plate.
"Nothing."
Cassandra narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"You were staring."
"I was looking at Leon."
"You were definitely looking at me."
Santino picked up his glass calmly.
"You're imagining things."
Cassandra scoffed and turned back to Leon.
"Eat your food."
Leon grinned.
Santino watched them for another moment before finally beginning his own dinner.
And for reasons he couldn't quite explain, the mansion felt a little more like a home that night.