Chapter 53
She pulled up to the restaurant, climbed out, and opened my door. She offered her hand; I looked at it for a beat, then took it. We stood while the valet bowed and accepted Aurora's keys.
Inside, my fingers tightened around hers, and I let out a low chuckle.
"What is this, Ro?" I said, laughing softly.
"Trying to shove memories in my face—memories that should have stayed buried?
" I scanned the room. It was the same place she used to bring me when she visited Monaco.
The host guided us to our reserved table. "What's wrong with it? We're just having lunch," she said, shrugging as she released my hand, and the server pulled out my chair. Aurora sat across from me.
"Having lunch," I corrected, lifting a finger, "in the same restaurant we used to dine in."
She clicked her tongue. "Still just lunch. I don't see anything wrong with that."
She sounded reasonable, but the familiarity—the table, the scent of garlic, the low clink of cutlery—tugged at memories I hadn't expected.
A waiter arrived with menus and left. I flipped mine open, leaned forward, and hissed, "You're crazy."
"And you," Aurora murmured without looking up, "give meaning to everything I do."
She met my gaze and sighed. "Why not start over, Sol? We're getting married anyway, tied to each other no matter what. What harm could it do?"
There she went again with starting over. Didn't she see I'd agreed to this for reasons of my own?
I snapped the menu shut. "You're not just crazy. You're delusional." I set the menu aside. "I'll have whatever you order." I let the conversation drop.
Aurora cocked her head, eyebrow up. "Or would you rather have your usual?"
I rolled my eyes. "Shut up."
She seemed amused by how flustered I was. When the waiter came back, Aurora ordered—and she ordered my usual before I could so much as open my mouth. Reflex took over: I jabbed her shin under the table and shot her a glare.
She winced. "Really, Sol?"
"You have nerve," I muttered.
She smiled and winked. I gave her another quick kick. She groaned and bent to rub the spot. "You're hotheaded, you know?" she teased. "Are you on your period or something?"
The audacity. I stood up. "That's it—"
She reached for my hand and held it before I could storm off.
"I'm kidding, okay?" she said, zipping her mouth shut. "I'll behave. Promise. Just... don't leave. Have lunch with me." She lifted her free hand like she was swearing an oath.
I rolled my eyes and pried her hand off mine before sitting down, arms crossed tightly over my chest. Aurora gave me a faint smile, then turned toward the window.
"You know," she began softly, "I won't deny it—I'm glad to be dining with you again. So, thank you, Sol. For agreeing to this."
My body went still. The way she said it—so sincere—made something in me stutter. Like she actually wanted to be here. With me. In this place.
"Don't get it twisted, Aurora. This is just for publicity. People need to believe we're in love. That's the only reason for this."
She looked at me and shrugged, not pushing further. During the meal, only the clinking of cutlery filled the space between us. I moved mechanically, each gesture deliberate, precise—like I was afraid to feel anything at all. I avoided her eyes.
I didn't want her to keep trying. The whole starting over thing. It was pointless. Whatever we had—if it ever existed—was beyond repair.
When we finished, Aurora paid the bill. We stepped outside to wait for the valet, the afternoon sun spilling gold across the pavement. She rolled up her sleeves, and my gaze caught on her arm.
Before I could stop myself, I reached out—fingers circling her wrist and elbow. A bruise, faint and violet-blue, marred her pale skin. "What happened to you?"
I froze, realizing what I'd done. But I didn't let go.
"This?" She chuckled lightly. "Hit the corner of my desk, that's all."
She pulled her arm free, and I swallowed hard, still staring. The mark didn't look like it came from furniture.
The valet arrived, pulling up her car.
Aurora thanked him and gestured for me to get in.
I slid into the passenger seat, still thinking about that bruise.
Something inside me itched to press her further—to ask if someone had hurt her—but I swallowed the question down.
"So," Aurora said once she was behind the wheel. "Did you enjoy the meal?"
I hummed noncommittally, buckling my seatbelt. When she retracted the roof, wind rushed in, tangling my hair. I leaned my head against my arms on the door, letting the air cool the heat still stirring in my chest.
After a while, I straightened, eyes on the road. "Why do you even want a house together?"
Aurora glanced at me, then back at the road.
"Well, since we're tying the knot, I figured starting from scratch made sense.
A new house, a new foundation. Maybe we won't build memories in it—but who knows?
" A faint smile curved her lips, like she was already imagining it.
"I wanted to give you something in return. "
A laugh escaped me—dry, disbelieving. "What's this, bribery?"
"Maybe." She chuckled, slowing down for the next turn. "But I mean it, Sol. I want you to design it. Make it a home. If you don't like the layout, change it. Hell, if you don't like the house, pick another. You know that's my company's expertise."
My gaze dropped to my hands.
A soft sigh left me, followed by a faint click of my tongue.
I hated that her words were getting to me.
That I could hear sincerity in her voice.
The way she pictured us—as if marriage could still mean something.
As if she enjoyed the idea of us at all.
"You know what, Aurora?
" I began, still staring down at my hands.
"It wouldn't be this awkward if we didn't have a past." A bitter laugh slipped out, rough and humorless.
"If we were strangers, this marriage could've been just a strategy.
But no—we're exes forced back together, and now marriage is the price of saving your empire. "
A soft honk pulled me from my thoughts. When I looked up, Aurora was already driving through a gated driveway.
"Would it really hurt," she asked quietly, "if we started over? Like strangers again?"
"No." The word came out sharper than I intended. I didn't look at her. "I've had enough pain from the past. I won't put myself through it again, Ro."
Dione was the only reason I was even here. She wanted me to marry Aurora—fine. But giving her another chance? No. That would never happen.
The car rolled to a stop. I didn't wait for Aurora to open my door this time. I unbuckled, pushed it open, and stepped out, shutting it behind me. My gaze lifted to the bungalow mansion before us.
A lump formed in my throat as I caught the sound of waves slamming against the private harbor. The place felt secluded—hidden away from the world, like a secret neither of us wanted exposed.
"You want to see the interior?" Aurora's voice broke through my thoughts.
I nodded silently.
She smiled faintly and led me toward the grand patio. Pulling out a keycard, she scanned it; the door unlocked with a soft click.
We stepped inside and were met with a spacious foyer bathed in warm sunlight.
"It's fully furnished," she said, her tone almost casual.
"Rare Italian marble, exotic woods, brass inlays.
All the furniture's limited edition. But if you want to change anything, the place is yours to reimagine. "
The space felt impossibly serene. Light filtered through the tall glass panels, painting gold streaks across the marble floors. I trailed my fingers over the smooth edges of the furniture as we walked toward the living area.
"How many rooms?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder.
"Eight," she replied, stepping closer. "Want to see the master bedroom?"
I turned to face her and gave a small nod. She gestured toward the left hallway. "This way."
We stopped before a sleek partition that concealed the bedrooms. She slid open a frosted glass door and motioned me forward. "Come."
Behind it, a series of doors lined the corridor until she paused in front of one. She opened it, revealing a spacious, suite-like bedroom. My breath hitched.
"Soft gold and ivory..." I whispered, taking in the palette, the textures, the quiet elegance of it all.
"Didn't you once say you wanted a master bedroom in those colors?" she asked softly.
I didn't answer. Because how could I? Why did she still remember? Every tiny thing I'd once said, every half-forgotten wish—I'd buried those long ago. But she hadn't.
"This house," Aurora continued, her voice almost uncertain now, "it's actually inspired by your dream home. I, uh... I designed it myself. It's a limited-edition plan—exclusive. So..." She looked at me, searching. "How do you like it?"
Exclusive. The word echoed.
I let out a low scoff, rubbing my forehead as I laughed bitterly. "Aurora, even after twelve years, you're still great at pretending." I shook my head. "Did you really waste your brain building a luxury house based on whatever nonsense I rambled about back then?"
She shrugged, looking at me. "Maybe I did. But it wasn't that bad, right?" Her eyes wandered around the room. "And the outdoor spaces—there's an infinity pool, a cabana, terraces, gardens. Even a rooftop deck for stargazing, or just to breathe."
My brow rose. "Don't tell me you had this design drafted before we broke up." I was only trying to test the waters because she'd mentioned sketching a wedding dress before we ended things—but when she nodded at my words, I almost lost it.
I scoffed, crossing my arms as I looked at her. Then I clicked my tongue, uncrossing them and clapping my hands in slow-motion applause. "Wow. You're really unbelievable."
"Sol, if you don't like it—"
"Fine," I blurted out before she could even finish.
Despite being creeped out by her little shenanigans, I liked the ambiance of the house.
"You may seem a little creepy for designing this before we even broke up and showing it to me now, brand new, but.
.. I like the ambiance. So it's fine." I squinted my eyes at her.
"But I get to decide how the interior will be. "
Aurora smiled, like I'd pulled out a thorn pinned inside her. "Do you want to see the other rooms?" she offered.
"Can I explore on my own?"
She nodded, smiling. "Of course." She gave me the keycard. "Take your time. I'll wait for you outside."
When I was left alone, I stood inside the master bedroom, glancing at the ceiling as I shut my eyes.
I sniffled softly, fingers clutching at my chest. "At least don't give me high hopes with this marriage, Ro.
I'm not hoping to start over with you. But what you're doing right now.
.. I don't know whether you really want to start over with me or just mess with the two of us. "
?·???°???°???·?
Sliding into my car, I shut the door. I buckled my seatbelt and was about to start the engine when I noticed my handbag was open. I picked it up and was about to close it when I saw a worn piece of paper inside.
My chest clenched tight as I unfolded it. I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat as I read the familiar handwriting.
Sloane,
I'm leaving this place. I don't want to be with you anymore. Being away from you made me realize something—I didn't love you. Let's end things between us and never see each other again. I want nothing to do with you.
Keep the apartment. I paid the lease, and it'll cover up to another year. I don't care what you do with it. Don't bother me again. Don't dare come near me. I'm done.
Thanks for the fun.
A.D.
A bitter chuckle escaped me, though my vision blurred as I folded the paper back and slipped it into my handbag. Closing it, I buried my face against the steering wheel, sniffling as memories of the day Aurora broke up with me flooded back.
She had left the letter in our apartment, packed her things while I was fast asleep.
I went after her, back to Oxford, but what she spat right in my face destroyed me.
"I don't love you. You're nothing to me.
" I echoed her words under my breath, because even after twelve years, they still burned at the back of my mind.
I had pleaded with her.
I ran after her, begging and asking what I had done wrong for her to leave—but she pushed me away.
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel as I let myself feel the pain again.
The silence inside the car only made it worse, suffocating me with the weight of the past.
Then, a chime from my phone broke through the quiet. I blinked, drew a shaky breath, and pulled out my handkerchief to wipe my watery eyes. Fishing out my phone, I saw a message from Aurora. My brow furrowed as I opened it.
I'm done making your dress. Want to come see it? I'm still in my office.
My gaze lingered on the screen, torn between replying and pretending I hadn't seen it. With a sigh, I locked my phone and slipped it back into my handbag before tossing it onto the passenger seat.
Starting the engine, I drove out of the parking area. I hadn't planned on seeing her today—but the moment my car passed the road leading to her building, an impulse surged through me. Before I could think twice, I made a sharp turn and pulled into a parking spot.
"Great," I hissed under my breath, killing the engine and resting my forehead against the steering wheel. "So much for thinking you weren't going to see her today, Sloane," I whispered to myself as I unbuckled my seatbelt.
Walking toward the lobby, I was about to head to the concierge when someone called out to me.
"Ms. Duvall?"
I turned and saw Celeste approaching. She gave me a polite bow and smiled. "Here to see Ms. Aurora?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said with a nod.
She smiled. "This way—I'll take you to her."
We walked side by side and entered the elevator. "She's been working on the wedding dress the whole day," Celeste explained.
"Is that so?" I mumbled, my gaze flicking to our reflections in the elevator doors.
She hummed in reply but said nothing else. When the elevator chimed, I realized we hadn't stopped on the same floor as Aurora's office.
We stepped out, and I followed her down the hall to one of the rooms. She knocked first before opening the door for me.
"Thank you, Celeste," I said, giving her a brief nod as I stepped inside.
She only smiled before leaving me alone.
I glanced around the room and spotted a figure sitting at one of the workstations. I hurried forward, only to realize it was Aurora—fast asleep.
Her face was turned to the side, one arm hanging loosely, her phone lying on the floor. I swallowed hard, crouched down, and picked it up, placing it gently on the desk. Just as I was about to stand, my gaze landed on her hand.
A dull ache twisted in my chest. Her fingers were slender, soft—and one of them was wrapped in a small bandage. My throat tightened. Had she pricked herself with a needle?
"Ro," I whispered, reaching out to hold her hand.
My fingers trembled slightly. When I looked at her face, a faint smile tugged at my lips.
I brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.
Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes, and her complexion looked even paler than it had twelve years ago.
I drew in a shaky breath, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. What did I ever do wrong for you to throw me away like that?
"Sloey..."
My entire body froze. Aurora's voice came out soft, muffled—but unmistakable. That nickname. My heart clenched painfully.
"Sloey... I'm sorry..." she murmured, her brow furrowing in her sleep. Was she dreaming about me?
Pressing my lips into a thin line, I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering myself. Then I exhaled slowly, opened them again, and reached to cup her cheek. "Ro. Aurora," I whispered, gently patting her face as I stood.
A groan escaped her as she stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, then squinted shut again before she blinked fully awake. "Sol..." she breathed, staring at me. Then, as realization dawned, she shot up from her chair—nearly stumbling.
"Hey," I hissed, grabbing her wrist to steady her—but it was the wrong move. She lost her balance, and in trying to catch her, I did too. I groaned as my hip hit the edge of the workstation.
Swallowing hard, I noticed how Aurora was bracing her hands on either side of me. I looked up at her, only to find her already staring down at me. Beads of sweat gathered on her forehead and trailed down the curve of her neck.
"Are you alright? You're sweating," I frowned, glancing at the air conditioner. "But it's cool enough in here."
She just stared at me for a moment, too long, before her throat bobbed. "Why are you here...?" she mumbled, her voice hazy with confusion.
I arched a brow, scoffing. "Seriously? You sent me a message. That's why I'm here."
Her expression stayed blank, as if she was still trying to process what I'd said. The silence stretched between us, thick and strange.
"Sol..." she whispered.
I didn't respond, just looked at her, waiting for whatever she wanted to say. Then, before I could even blink, her hands came up to cup my cheeks. My breath hitched.
And then she kissed me.
My body went rigid, eyes wide at the sudden warmth of her lips against mine. I knew I should've pushed her away, should've slapped her, should've reminded her that what she was doing was wrong—but my body betrayed me.
My eyes fluttered shut, and my trembling hands clutched her shoulders as I gave in. A low sound escaped me when she nibbled on my lower lip, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. My fingers found her hair and tangled there, tugging her nearer.
Her warmth. Her touch. I had memorized it before—it used to be mine, twelve years ago. She was mine, all along, twelve years ago. But why...
"Sol..." she murmured between our kisses. "I lo—"
"Ms. Aurora—"
The sound of Celeste's voice snapped me back to reality. I pushed Aurora away—hard enough that she almost stumbled.
We both froze.
Celeste stood by the doorway, wide-eyed, clutching a paper bag. "I-I'm so sorry, Ms. Aurora."
Aurora straightened immediately, her breathing still uneven. "Celeste, do you need something?"
My face flushed. My heart pounded so hard it drowned out everything else.
"I thought you and Ms. Duvall might like some snacks," Celeste stammered. "So I brought coffee and cake."
"Right. Just put it there, thank you," Aurora said, pointing toward the vacant worktable.
I stood rooted in place, trying to process what had just happened—why I'd let my guard down, why I'd responded.
My fingers brushed against my lips, still tingling from her kiss. I didn't even notice Celeste leaving until I heard the door click shut.
A deep sigh broke the silence. I looked at Aurora, who was wiping her face with both hands.
"I'm sorry—" she began, but I cut her off with a glare.
"Why did you kiss me?" I snapped, striding toward her.
She lifted both hands defensively, palms out. "I'm sorry, okay?" she said, her voice small. Then her eyes flicked to my lips. "But... you responded anyway."
Her remark made my blood boil. I raised my hand, ready to slap her—but she quickly brought her arm up to block it. My hand froze mid-air.
I exhaled sharply, lowering it. Instead of striking her, I stepped closer and pressed my palm to her forehead.
"Do you have a fever? You're burning up," I muttered. Her skin was hot beneath my touch.
"No... maybe?" she said uncertainly, her voice quiet now, almost childlike.
I looked at her for a while, then took a step back and walked toward the mannequin.
"Wow," I whispered to myself, taking in the finished look of the dress.
It was even more elegant than it had been on the test fabric.
"Did you stay late to finish this?" I asked, pointing at the dress before glancing at her.
"Yeah," she said softly. I watched as she set the coffee and cake on the vacant table, then walked over to stand beside me.
My fingers brushed the fabric. "It's beautiful," I murmured, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
"I'm glad you like it."
I turned to her, smiling faintly. "You wouldn't be the CEO and creative director of your empire if you weren't amazing at what you do. I know how great you are at your craft—no doubt about it."
But my smile faltered when I saw her up close. There was something off about her—her complexion was too pale, her eyes tired. I tilted my head, studying her. "You really don't look well."
She shrugged it off with a weak wave of her hand. "Maybe just fatigue. Come on, coffee and cake?" She gestured toward the snacks.
I decided to drop it, seeing that she didn't want to discuss it. We made our way to the table. She pulled out a chair for me, and I nodded in thanks before sitting down. She took the seat across from me and handed me a cup of caramel macchiato.
We sipped in silence for a moment before I spoke. "Were you dreaming earlier?"
Aurora's hand froze mid-sip. "What do you mean?"
I shrugged, leaning back slightly. "You were mumbling," I said, taking another drink. My eyes lingered on her. "You kept calling me by the name you used before. Sloey."
Her body went rigid, and she coughed, clearly caught off guard. I let out a dry scoff and shook my head. "What was that, Ro? A nightmare from back then?" I teased, though part of me didn't really mean it.
She laughed, but it sounded forced—fragile, like glass about to crack. Her gaze shifted past me, still holding her cup. "Yeah... maybe it was. The same nightmare I've been having for twelve years."
This time, I froze.
When she looked back at me, there was a faint, wistful smile on her lips—one that carried more regret than words ever could.
My chest tightened. I took a casual sip of my coffee, pretending not to notice, though every nerve in my body was aware of her.
Because I'd been dreaming the same fucking dream, too. Even after twelve years.
"Well," I said, forcing a small laugh, "I guess regret really does come at the end of every decision, huh?"
Aurora gave a faint smile and nodded slowly, her eyes soft with unspoken things neither of us dared to say.