Chapter 51
Running my fingers over the fabrics displayed inside the boutique made me smile. Beside me walked the owner himself—the man behind every custom design. I couldn't help imagining myself in white, wrapped in a gown crafted just for me.
"Madame," the tailor said with a kind smile, "with a figure like yours, a mermaid gown would be perfect."
I paused, glancing at him. "Is that so?" I returned his smile, teasing lightly. "Well, as long as I don't end up like the Little Mermaid in my wedding dress, it'll be perfect."
He chuckled, rubbing his chin as his gaze studied me. "You're a lucky woman, Madame. Your fiancée looks at you as if she loves you deeply."
My brows lifted slightly.
I followed his gaze and caught Aurora watching me with a faint smile.
She straightened the moment our eyes met.
Clearing my throat, I turned back to the tailor, though a quiet thought echoed in my head: I don't think she loves me that way.
"Excuse me for a moment, Monsieur," I said softly before walking toward Aurora. I leaned close enough to see the magazine she was flipping through. "Find anything you like for your suit?" I asked, turning a glossy page.
"Sol," she murmured.
I hummed in response, still pretending to study the pages filled with gowns and tailored suits. When she didn't answer, I looked up—and froze. Our faces were inches apart. My breath caught before I leaned back, clearing my throat.
Aurora smiled faintly. "You know," she said, "you don't really need someone else to design your wedding dress."
I raised a brow, half amused. "Oh? Should I just buy something off the rack then?"
She shook her head, biting her lower lip before sighing. Her hand reached for mine, fingers pressing gently. "Not that. I... I have an exclusive design—something I never released in any couture collection. It's at my place. I thought maybe... it might suit you."
I blinked, studying her. She looked almost nervous, eager even. "You designed a wedding dress?" I asked.
Of course, she did—Aurora DeLacroix, the reigning name in haute couture. But the idea that she'd designed one for me sent a strange flutter through my chest.
"Yes," she whispered, releasing my hand. "It's an old design, but... it made me think of you. I think it would fit your taste."
My lips twitched, unsure whether to smile or frown.
My ex, soon-to-be-wife, was offering me a wedding gown she designed herself—it was poetic, almost cruel.
I sighed, shutting the brochure and setting it aside.
"Well. I suppose I'll have to see it then.
You are the creative director, after all.
Wait outside—I'll finish up with the owner. "
As Aurora stepped out, I turned back to the tailor.
"Monsieur," I said, joining him as we both admired the displayed gowns.
He tilted his head curiously. I smiled faintly.
"My fiancée asked me to try on one of her designs first. Apparently, she already made a wedding dress for me. "
His eyes brightened. "Of course she did!" he said proudly, chuckling. "She's the Aurora DeLacroix, after all. You must try it, Madame. And should you ever wish for a custom one here, my atelier will always be open for you."
I subtly nodded and excused myself. When I stepped outside the boutique, Aurora was nowhere to be seen. My brow furrowed as I looked around, only to find her standing in front of a small stall.
Walking toward her, I tilted my head when I saw what it was—a gelato stand. "Ro?" I called out.
She turned around, looking at me. I quickened my pace, squinting my eyes. "What are you doing here?" I asked.
Aurora just shrugged and turned her attention back to the vendor. "Ordering gelato."
Just then, the staff at the stall called out an order. "Two raspberry rose gelatos!"
My body froze. That was our gelato flavor back then.
I looked at the stall, then at Aurora, who was already glancing at me. "Wait, did you—" Before I could finish, a man appeared and went up to the counter. I sighed and offered a faint smile. "Oh."
I thought she'd ordered it. So why did I feel disappointed now?
"Salted caramel with vanilla bean, and dark chocolate with red wine!" the vendor called next.
Aurora left my side to collect the order. I didn't even notice she had returned until she was standing right beside me again. My eyes were still following the couple who'd gotten the raspberry rose flavor.
"Do you want that flavor instead?" Aurora's voice made me freeze. I turned sharply toward her—only to realize how close her face was to mine.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I took a step back, frowning. "Why are you so close?" I hissed, rolling my eyes to mask my flustered state.
Aurora smiled at me. "Your eyes were on them," she teased, handing me one of the cups. "Here. Still your favorite? If it's changed, I can—"
"This is fine," I cut her off, looking down at the gelato. She still remembered my favorite flavor. The thought made something inside me twist.
"I still like the same flavor," I said, glancing at her and lifting the cup slightly. "Thanks."
I smiled at her. I hadn't expected her to remember what I liked—or what I didn't.
"No problem," she said with a small shrug as we began walking toward a nearby bench.
I sat on one end, while Aurora sat on the other, as if we were complete strangers. The space between us felt symbolic—a quiet reminder of how far apart we'd grown. I sighed, scooped a spoonful of gelato, and took a bite.
Swallowing, I glanced at her. "Have you prepared your vows?" I asked, shifting a little closer but still leaving space between us. Her gaze met mine, and she gave me a small smile before nodding.
A bitter chuckle escaped me. "Do we even need vows?" I murmured. "We're just two exes marrying for wealth. It's not like we love each other."
"Is that really all this was, Sol? Just business?"
Her question made me look at her, the spoon still hovering near my lips as I took another bite of gelato. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat.
"The prenup says no divorce," she pressed softly, "so maybe... we could try starting over again."
My body went still. She'd been hinting at this for days—like she truly wanted to win me back.
"You've got a screw loose, Ro," I scoffed, stealing a scoop from her cup without even asking.
She didn't react. She just let me. I shoved the spoon into my mouth and immediately grimaced at the bitter aftertaste of the dark chocolate coating my tongue. "Still bitter," I muttered. "Figures."
Aurora laughed at my remark, her face flushing pink, eyes glimmering with amusement. I froze, watching her. Then I noticed her gaze shift—from my eyes down to my lips.
"Sol," she murmured, leaning in to wipe something from my mouth.
I blinked, breath catching. She leaned closer—too close—as if she were about to kiss me. But before she could, I scooped a spoonful of my gelato and shoved it into her mouth. "Why don't you try this one?" I said, forcing out a laugh.
She pulled back, laughing awkwardly as well.
"Sweet, right?" I teased, scooping another spoonful and offering it to her again.
She nodded, her voice muffled by the gelato. "Yeah," she said softly. "Sweet."
Her eyes never left mine.
My heart pounded so loudly I could hear it in my ears. My whole body went frantic—she'd almost kissed me, and worse, I'd almost let her.
What was happening to me?
?·???°???°???·?
Entering the house, I was greeted by a chill and an unsettling silence. I looked around—the place hadn't changed since the university breaks when Aurora used to bring me here. But the air felt different now. Lonelier.
I caught my breath when Aurora's hand rested gently on my back, guiding me down the hallway.
We walked side by side, neither of us daring to break the silence.
In my mind, I could still see our younger selves moving through these same corridors, laughing, teasing, in love. The memory made my chest ache.
She opened a door and gestured for me to step inside.
My breath hitched at the sight of the room—warm, sunlit, and filled with wooden shelves lined with sketches and fabrics.
Aurora closed the door behind us as I ran my fingers along the edge of a shelf, feeling the faint layer of dust gather on my skin.
"Right," she began, her voice snapping me back. She hurried toward her desk, opening a drawer and pulling something from it. "Here are the raw sketches." She handed me an old sketchpad, edges worn and yellowed.
I took it from her carefully and began flipping through the pages.
"Also... do you mind if I change clothes? I'll be quick."
I paused, glancing at her with a raised brow. "You don't need to ask. It's your house," I said, shrugging as I turned another page. "I'll be right here."
"Okay."
My fingers stilled when I sensed movement. Looking up, I blinked—Aurora stood frozen, her hand halfway to my cheek. Our eyes met, locking for what felt like a long moment. She hesitated, her expression unreadable. Was she... trying to kiss me?
Aurora stepped back abruptly, swallowing hard. "Just—wait here," she muttered before slipping out of the room without another glance.
Once alone, I scoffed softly and looked toward the closed door. "What now? She's acting so weird," I murmured, shaking my head as I walked to the couch. Sitting down, I returned to the sketches—until the door creaked open again.
One of the housekeepers entered, carrying a silver tray. She set it on the table with a polite smile. "Madame, would you like anything else?"
I looked at the assortment of snacks and smiled back. "Everything's fine. Thank you."
She nodded and quietly exited the room. The soft click of the door closing left me in silence once more.
I turned another page of the sketchpad and froze. A stack of Polaroid photos slipped out. My fingers trembled as I picked them up, one by one.
"Why does she have these...?" I whispered. They were photos of us—Aurora and me—back in university.
My hands shook as I shuffled through each one. The pounding in my chest was unbearable. I sniffled, blinking hard, but the tears came anyway, slipping down my cheeks. A bitter laugh escaped me as I wiped them away.
"Twelve years," I whispered, my voice breaking. "And it still hurts."
The door opened again, and I rushed to brush the tears from my face.
"Did you wait long?" Aurora's voice filled the room.
I looked up. She closed the door and approached quickly.
"No," I said, lowering my gaze to the sketchpad. But she had already noticed the photographs beside me. Her steps quickened as she reached for them, gathering the Polaroids in her hands.
A scoff escaped me as I shut the sketchpad and rose to my feet, turning to face her. I met her gaze, because if she told me before that she only used me for sex, then what was the point of keeping all those photographs?
"Why hide the pictures when I've already seen them? And why keep them at all?" I asked, my voice firm but steady.
Aurora's throat bobbed as she took a step back. "Because I forgot to throw them away," she murmured, eyes darting away from mine.
Liar.
My lips twitched in irritation. "Then throw them away," I said, nodding toward the trash bin nearby. Every memory was useless now. We broke up twelve years ago—why would she still hold on to them? What's the use of any of this?
"I don't want to," she whispered, her head lowered as she stared at the photos trembling in her hands.
I didn't care what she felt.
Her nonsense needed to stop. I sighed and strode toward her, snatching the photographs from her grip.
"If you won't, then I will." I turned to toss them into the trash—but Aurora grabbed my wrist, yanking me back hard enough to make me face her.
"No!" she shouted, her voice breaking as she ripped the photos back from my hand. "Don't, Sol. Don't throw these away." She clutched them to her chest like her life depended on them.
I laughed—cold, bitter. "Aren't you creeped out? Twelve years, Ro. We broke up twelve years ago, and you're still clinging to this?"
Aurora flinched. Her face twisted with something between pain and shame, her eyes glassy. "They're mine," she said quietly, her tone shaking. "Not yours. You don't get to throw away what belongs to me."
She brushed past me, striding to her desk. I watched as she shoved the photos inside and slammed the drawer shut.
I folded my arms, glaring at her. "So, what is it? Guilt? You didn't bother tossing away our little souvenirs, so now you're pretending it's nostalgia?" A humorless laugh escaped me. "That's not you. You were always good at walking away."
"You're right," she said, stepping closer until the space between us thinned. I instinctively took a step back. "Maybe it's guilt... or maybe it's something else."
Her hand lifted, fingers grazing under my chin. "Sol," she said softly, "we're here to find your wedding dress—not to relive the past. It's not worth it, right?"
It's not worth it? The words echoed in my mind, sharp and hollow. Not worth it? Settling everything—telling me why she did it—all of it... not worth it?
I stared at her blankly, my voice gone. She gave a faint, broken smile before turning away, heading toward one of the shelves.
"Is it fun?" The words slipped from me before I could stop them. "Tell me, was it fun, Aurora?"
She froze.
"You must've enjoyed yourself," I continued, my tone trembling with anger. "Four years of a so-called relationship—oh wait, no. It wasn't a relationship for you, was it? I was just a bed warmer. A fuck toy you used whenever you were bored or needed release."
I spat the words like venom, remembering how she once said them herself.
But I wasn't done. "You must've loved that... and when you were done, you just threw me away. At my lowest point."
Aurora turned slowly to face me. Her mouth opened as if to argue, but nothing came out. Her shoulders sagged, the strength draining from her. She took a hesitant step closer.
"Sol..." she said softly. "Sol, it wasn't like that. You don't understand."
My brow arched as I laughed, stepping closer to her before yanking her toward me. "Understand what, Aurora? What's there to understand?"
Was there really another reason why she left me before? Because I nearly lost my own damn mind trying to figure out what I did wrong for her to use me like that.
"I understood everything you said twelve years ago. Crystal clear. A DeLacroix like you—born with a silver spoon—you wouldn't stoop down for someone beneath your lifestyle. And here I was... an easy target."
She had always been out of my league. I was just a commoner, and she was a queen who would never bow down to anyone. That was us. That was the difference between us.
Aurora subtly nodded. "Then let me correct my mistake."
I couldn't hold back—I laughed lowly as I reached out to cup her cheek.
"Don't worry. I'll let you use me again.
Use my money, drain me dry. But one wrong move, Aurora," I murmured, a smirk curving my lips, "and I'll take it all back.
Every dime. And I'll make sure you have nothing left. "
Petty as it might have seemed, I wanted control this time. I wanted her to feel what it was like to lose something she thought she could never lose.
My gaze dropped to her lips, then lifted to meet her eyes. "So play smart. Every step you take, I'll have a counter waiting."
One wrong move, Aurora, and I'd be heartless. One wrong move, and I'd make sure you'd beg for my mercy.
The one thing she should never have done was hurt the woman who loved her completely—the woman foolish enough to love her still.