Chapter Forty-Three Joshua / Aurora
Chapter Forty-Three
Joshua / Aurora
Joshua
When I turned around, towel in hand, the kitchen was finally clean enough to breathe in again. I turned around and paused at the sight before me.
Aurora, sitting cross-legged on the stool, spoon in her good hand, scooping icing and cake straight from the side like she owned the thing.
She looked up mid-bite, cheeks puffed, eyes wide, as if she’d been caught stealing.
I blinked. Then sighed, shaking my head. “No candle, huh?”
She blinked, pulling the spoon out of her mouth slowly and chewing the cake, darting her eyes away from me.
Fine. No candle. No song. Just her, a spoon, and a cake she helped make. I could live with that.
She took another bite, clearly unfazed, and then tapped the cake twice with the spoon before looking at me, as if she were inviting me to dig in.
Come on, her eyes said.
I huffed a quiet laugh under my breath, tossing the towel onto the counter. “Ridiculous,” I muttered, but I was already reaching into the drawer. Grabbed another spoon.
When I sat beside her, she pushed the plate slightly toward me. The frosting was uneven, some parts too thick, others barely covered, but it didn’t matter.
It was hers. And I think it’s beautiful.
I dug in. Vanilla, warm, still a little soft in the centre. Way better than I expected.
She glanced sideways at me like she was waiting for a verdict.
“It’s good,” I said honestly. “You did fine, Campbell.”
She smiled at that and went back to eating, the two of us sharing a cake off the same plate in silence.
No candles. No noise.
Just quiet warmth.
When she licked the last bit of icing from her spoon, satisfied, I stood up, heart stupidly loud in my chest and went to the counter. Another box sat there waiting. Small. White. Silver ribbon tied the way the woman in the shop had shown me.
I grabbed it before I could second-guess myself and walked back to her.
Her eyes followed me, curious.
I stopped in front of her stool and slid the box across the counter. “Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered. “It’s not my fault Christmas and your birthday are basically the same week.”
She froze, staring down at it, then back up at me with this wide-eyed you-did-not look that made me want to smirk and hide all at once.
“Go on,” I said, nodding at the box.
Her fingers, still awkward with the cast, fumbled with the ribbon, taking her time. She opened it slowly, like she was afraid it’d disappear if she blinked.
And when she saw the bracelet, she just… stopped.
The silver caught the kitchen light, glinting softly. Tiny charms dangled from it, stars, a book, a little cat that reminded me of Honey and in the middle, a delicate princess charm. A gold crown. Sleeping Beauty.
Aurora.
Her breath hitched, barely audible, and she traced the charm with her thumb.
I cleared my throat, looking away because the silence was too heavy. “You’re always saving everyone else, feeding strays, helping people. Thought maybe…” I exhaled. “You deserved something that’s just yours.”
When I finally looked at her again, her gaze was fixed on that one specific gold crown charm, with that soft tug at the corner of her lips before her lips parted to speak.
“Thank you,” she said, barely audible, but I caught it anyway.
I shrugged, pretending to play it off. “Just don’t tell anyone. Lockhart doesn’t do birthday gifts.”
But the way she smiled, holding the bracelet like it was the world… I knew I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
She kept turning the bracelet in her hand, the chain catching against the light with every tiny movement.
Her thumb brushed the same charm—the crown—again and again, like she was memorising the shape, the details, the idea of it being hers.
I leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “You ever watch Sleeping Beauty?” Her head snapped up, confused, and I nodded toward the charm, “same name. Thought maybe you’d like it.”
She smiled, just faintly, then shook her head. “L-Layla said Rapunzel.”
“Rapunzel?” I frowned. “You?”
She just nodded.
Curiosity got the better of me. I grabbed my phone and searched it up. Rapunzel. Blonde hair, green eyes, trapped but still… bright. Hopeful. The more I scrolled, I saw another photo. Same princess but with shorter hair, brown now.
Wait.
I looked from the screen to her sitting there in her soft sweater, brown hair falling past her shoulders, light hitting her eyes in this warm, caramel way.
Different coloured eyes, different hair length… but—
“Yeah,” I murmured. “She might be right.”
Her gaze flicked up to me, a question in her eyes. I turned the phone toward her, showing the picture, and she smiled, one of those quiet, knowing ones that made me also smile a bit.
She tilted her head then, studying me for a moment before she pointed to my eyes.
I blinked. “What?”
“G-green eyes. Like her.”
For a second, I didn’t know what to do with that. The air shifted, quiet, warm.
I huffed a breath and looked away, pretending to scoff, though I could feel the corner of my mouth twitch. “I don’t have Rapunzel eyes,” I muttered, but she just nodded stubbornly.
Her eyes said it all: soft, sure, like she saw something in me I didn’t.
“So Tangled instead, then?” I asked, making her sit up straight, nodding.
I guess Joshua Lockhart is going to be watching Disney tonight.
We ended up on the couch a few minutes after I finished washing the rest of the dishes.
Aurora tucked her legs under herself on the couch. Honey instantly climbed into her lap like it was routine. The kitten curled up, purring, her tiny paws pressed against the soft fabric of Aurora’s sweater.
She looked so damn at peace it was disarming.
I sat at the other end of the couch, pretending to scroll through my phone while she focused on the movie, but after a few minutes, I gave up. The glow from the TV painted her skin gold and pink, the colours flickering across her face every time Rapunzel laughed.
When the character hummed that little melody, Aurora’s mouth curved. Just a small smile, but it reached her eyes.
Honey purred louder, tail flicking, perfectly content on her lap. Aurora absentmindedly scratched behind her ear with her good hand, attention glued to the screen.
I should’ve been watching the movie. Instead, I watched her. It was stupidly fitting. The scene where Rapunzel leaves the tower for the first time, sunlight spilling over everything. Freedom and fear all mixed together.
When she noticed me looking, she froze. Then, without a word, she gestured for me to sit closer, tapping the spot beside her.
I hesitated, but I moved, anyway. Honey didn’t protest when I sat down, just stretched, yawned, and rested her chin on Aurora’s cast.
By the time the movie reached the lantern scene, Aurora leaned slightly to the side, shoulder brushing mine, the faint smell of her sweet scent cutting through the warmth of the room.
Neither of us said a word.
—
Aurora
The credits rolled softly in the background, and Honey’s tiny purrs were still echoing in my lap.
I didn’t even realise the movie was over until the screen dimmed and the reflection of the Christmas tree shimmered back at us. Gold lights, red ribbons… warm. Too warm.
I blinked, shaking myself out of it, and carefully stood up, cradling Honey in one arm. She meowed once, sleepily, like she didn’t want me to move.
“I know,” I whispered, pressing a tiny kiss to the top of her ginger head. “I’ll see you soon.”
Her little body vibrated with a quiet purr, and I smiled despite the ache forming in my chest. I placed her down on the couch where she immediately curled into a ball, tail over her nose. Safe. Happy. Loved.
I turned to Joshua.
He was still sitting there, elbows on his knees, hair slightly messy from the way he’d run his hand through it too many times during the movie.
For a second, I didn’t know what to say.
Thank you didn’t seem enough.
But I said it anyway. “Thank you.”
For the food.
For the movie.
For the warmth.
For the birthday that didn’t feel lonely.
He nodded once, and the corner of his mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile but didn’t trust himself to.
I turned toward the door, slipped my shoes on, and looked back once more. He was still there at the same spot, same quiet look, same unreadable face that somehow wasn’t so scary anymore.
I gave him a small wave.
He raised his hand halfway, like he wasn’t sure if I’d see it… but I did.
I walked out the door, shutting it gently behind me. I looked down at my wrist, finger grazing the beautiful charms.
Today… was the best birthday I’d had in years.
And it was because of him.
—
Two days had gone by already, and I missed…
Honey. I meant Honey.
Yes.
I miss Honey. That cute little furball.
I walked around my apartment, sipping my tea and scrolling on my phone, taking in the sunlight that was spilling through my window.
And then I froze, seeing a familiar name on the news.
Breaking News: John Lockhart Donates to Reopen The Sofia Home for Children.
My heart skipped.
John Lockhart. Joshua’s father.
I frowned and tapped the article. A few lines down, there it was…
“The orphanage was founded by his late wife, Sofia Lockhart, and is now maintained by her younger sister, Claire Williams. Ownership of the facility was transferred to Sofia’s son in 2004, Joshua Lockhart, who will continue supporting its development. ”
My stomach turned.
Sofia Lockhart. His mum.
The woman he told me about, the one he couldn’t save.
I scrolled through the photos, each caption stinging more than the last. Joshua’s father shaking hands with politicians, smiling at cameras. Smiling. A man who hadn’t even shown up to his wife’s funeral.
I remembered what Joshua had said that night. Dad didn’t come to the hospital. Or the funeral.
And now he was… donating?
Using her name for press?
I could practically feel how much this would destroy him if he saw it.
Before I could even process it further, my phone buzzed.
Joshua: Come upstairs when you can. Watch Honey for me. I have somewhere to be.
My heart dropped.
Oh no.
He must’ve seen it.
I sat up quickly, fingers trembling as I texted back:
Me: Where are you going?
No response.
I stood, grabbed a hoodie, and shoved my phone in my pocket, my pulse racing faster by the second.
If he saw that headline, if he was on his way to him, then this wouldn’t end well, especially with his temper… and his love for his mum.
When the elevator doors slid open, my stomach was already in knots. I knocked once, twice, and before I could knock again, the door swung open.
Joshua stood there.
Suit. Tie. Cufflinks. Hair slicked back as if he’d been ready for a war, not a meeting.
For a heartbeat, I just stared. I’d never seen him like this, so clean, so sharp, but his eyes…his eyes were anything but.
They were burning.
He didn’t even wait for me to speak. Just stepped aside, muttering low, clipped words. “Do whatever. Eat whatever. I’ll be back.”
I froze, still holding my phone. “W-where—”
He was already walking past me, each step heavy and fast, jacket brushing against his side as he fixed his cuff.
“Wait—”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even turn.
The elevator dinged, and he stepped in, pressing the button as if he couldn’t stand still another second.
The doors started to close, and for a fraction of a moment, he looked up. Our eyes met. There was so much in that look, anger, guilt, something else I couldn’t name—but it vanished as the doors sealed shut.
The silence after was loud.
Honey padded out from the corner, tail twitching anxiously, tiny head tilting toward the now closed elevator.
I sighed and crouched down, running my fingers through her fur.
“Yeah,” I whispered, heart sinking, “me too.”
Whatever he was going to do… it wasn’t going to end quietly. But I just hope that he’d be okay.