Leo had learned early in life that some stains never truly came off.
No matter how long he scrubbed his hands at the sink behind his workshop, no matter how hard he pressed the soap into his skin, the grease always stayed—dark lines beneath his nails, faint shadows in the cracks of his palms. It followed him home. Followed him to bed. Followed him into every dream he had ever dared to dream for someone else.
Tonight was no different.
He shut off the tap and stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror. Thirty-two. Broad shoulders from years of lifting engines. Eyes tired but steady. He looked like a man who knew how to fix things.
Too bad hearts weren't engines.
"Leo!"
Sophia's voice floated in from the small room behind the workshop. Bright. Excited. Alive in a way that always made his chest warm.
"I'm coming," he called, grabbing a towel.
She was seated on the narrow bed they shared, her laptop open, textbooks spread around her like proof of a future she was building brick by brick. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun, glasses perched on her nose.
"You look happy," he said, leaning against the doorframe.
She grinned. "I passed my final assessment."
His breath caught. "You did?"
"I did!" She jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Leo, I'm almost there. Almost done."
He laughed softly, holding her tighter. "I told you. You're too stubborn to fail."
She pulled back just enough to look at him. "You believed in me when nobody else did."
"I still do."
For a moment, the world was small. Simple. Just grease-stained hands and a woman with dreams bigger than the room they stood in.
Leo sponsored Sophia through school without ever calling it sacrifice.
When her tuition increased, he worked later hours. When her laptop broke, he fixed cars overnight. When she needed transport money, he walked to work instead.
"You don't have to do all this," she used to say.
He always answered the same way. "I want to."
And he meant it.
Graduation day arrived with noise and color and applause.
Sophia stood in her gown like she belonged to something larger than life itself. Leo watched from the back of the crowd, clapping harder than anyone, his palms stinging with pride.
When she found him afterward, she was breathless.
"Did you see me?" she asked.
"I saw everything."
She laughed, tears in her eyes. "We did it."
He shook his head gently. "You did."
"No," she said firmly. "We."
It was the last time she would say that word like it meant something shared.
The job came faster than Leo expected.
One customer knew someone. That someone knew someone else. Leo made calls he didn't like to make, asked favors he never enjoyed asking for.
A month later, Sophia walked into the workshop waving an offer letter.
"I got it!" she shouted.
He lifted her off the ground without thinking. "You're serious?"
"It's real. Leo, the salary—" She stopped herself, eyes widening. "It's a lot."
He smiled. "You deserve it."
At first, nothing changed.
She still called him after work. Still asked about his day. Still kissed his hands despite the grease.
Then came the late nights.
"Meeting ran late," she said one evening, slipping off her heels by the door.
He looked up from the food he'd kept warm. "I saved dinner."
She smiled absently. "Thanks."
They ate in silence.
Afterward, she sat scrolling through her phone, fingers moving fast, face lit by a screen that didn't include him.
"Are you tired?" he asked.
"Just busy," she replied.
Busy became normal.
The first real conversation came on a Thursday night.
"My colleagues are going out," Sophia said, adjusting her blouse. "Drinks. Networking."
"That's good," Leo said. "Want me to drop you?"
She hesitated.
"Leo… it's not really your kind of place."
His smile froze. "I can dress up."
"It's not about clothes," she said quickly. "It's just… you know."
He waited.
She didn't finish the sentence.
The second conversation hurt more.
"You don't talk much around my friends," she said one night.
"I listen," he replied.
"They're used to… different conversations."
"About money?" he asked quietly.
She frowned. "Why are you making it sound like that?"
"Because that's what you're saying without saying it."
She didn't deny it.
The third conversation ended everything.
They sat across from each other, the ring box between them. Leo's hands shook as he pushed it forward.
"I've been saving," he said. "It's not much, but—"
Sophia didn't open it.
"I can't," she said.
He laughed nervously. "Can't what?"
"I can't marry you."
The room felt suddenly too small.
"Why?" he asked.
She stood. "My life has changed."
"So has mine," he said. "I built it around you."
"That's the problem," she snapped. "You're still here. Still this."
He stood slowly. "This paid your school fees."
"I didn't ask you to!"
The words echoed.
"So what am I to you now?" he asked.
She looked away. "You're… comfortable. But my status is higher now. I can't go backward."
The word backward broke something inside him.
"Say it clearly," he said. "Say you're ashamed."
Silence.
That was answer enough.
Months passed.
Leo didn't collapse. He didn't beg. He didn't chase.
He worked.
He rebuilt the workshop. Took business courses at night. Learned pricing, branding, management. He hired an assistant. Cleaned the place up. Put his name on the sign.
LEO AUTO SOLUTIONS
People noticed.
Not because of revenge.
Because he stayed.
One afternoon, a luxury car rolled in.
He recognized it immediately.
Sophia stepped out.
She looked polished. Powerful. Alone.
"Leo," she said softly.
He nodded. "Sophia."
"I heard you're the best," she said.
"I never stopped being good," he replied calmly.
She swallowed. "You look… different."
"I grew," he said. "Quietly."
She hesitated. "I made a mistake."
He met her eyes, steady. "We all do."
She waited for anger.
He gave her peace.