Chapter Fifty-Nine Joshua
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Joshua
Her breathing was still uneven. So was mine.
The room was quiet except for the low hum of the city outside, the faint, distant sound of cars and strong wind, the kind of white noise that made the world feel smaller.
Aurora’s skin was warm against mine, sticky with sweat, her hair tangled against my neck.
She was straddling me, chest pressed to chest, her heartbeat stumbling against my ribs.
I traced slow circles on her thighs. Over and over. Just something to keep my hands moving so I didn’t fall apart. Silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward; it was heavy. Like both of us were scared to breathe too loudly and break it.
Then, finally, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”
She lifted her head a little, her eyes soft but tired. I kept my voice quiet, almost shaking.
“When I told you that I never wanted to see you again,” I said, swallowing hard, “I lied. God, I lied so badly. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it.”
Her eyes fluttered down, and I felt her fingers ghost over my shoulders, as if she were making sure I was real.
“I wanted to see you,” I said, my voice cracking.
“Every damn day I wanted to see you. I missed you so much, Aurora. I wanted to spend Valentine’s with you, tell you how much you mean to me, and instead I…
I said that. I pushed you away like an idiot because I thought I wasn’t good enough, and all I did was make you cry. ”
I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her close, as if I held her tight enough, I could stop time from pulling us apart again.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured again, the words pressed into her skin. “I missed you so fucking much. I was miserable without you.”
She still didn’t say anything, but she didn’t pull away either. Her arms slid up and around my neck, chin resting on my shoulder, breath brushing my ear.
“The only thing that made it bearable was Honey,” I whispered. “But even she—she misses you. She keeps walking around the apartment, crying at the door, waiting for her mom to come home.”
Aurora’s shoulders trembled against me, and I hugged her tighter.
“Please don’t leave again,” I whispered, desperate, voice cracking raw. “Please don’t. I won’t mess it up this time, I swear to you. I won’t tell you to leave again. Just… don’t hate me. Please forgive me because I love you. I—” I swallowed, eyes burning. “I love you, Aurora.”
She froze.
For a second, she didn’t move, didn’t even breathe.
Then, softly, barely a whisper against my skin, “I love you too.”
Everything in me went still.
Her lips brushed against my collarbone as she breathed the words again, as if she were afraid they might fade if she didn’t say them twice.
“I couldn’t stay away,” she murmured, voice cracking halfway through. “I didn’t want to be away. I—I tried, Joshua, I really did. But I couldn’t. I wanted you. To be with you.”
My throat closed.
I cupped her jaw and tilted her face up just enough to see her eyes. The way she looked at me made my chest feel too tight to hold.
“I didn’t think you’d come back,” I whispered. “Didn’t think I deserved it.”
She shook her head, her nose brushing mine, her fingers curling around the back of my neck as if she were anchoring me there.
“That’s not up to you to decide—it’s up to me,” she said softly. “And you deserve me, Joshua. You really do. So please—please don’t ever say that you don’t want to see me again. I…can’t take that.”
Something inside me broke then, quietly, like the sound of a knot coming undone after being pulled too tight for too long.
So I held her closer.
Pressed my lips to her forehead, then her cheek, then her hair, whispering, “I won’t.”
I brushed her hair back, kissing her shoulder softly.
“I’ll never say it again.”
Her fingers drew slow circles over my heart as she melted into my chest. I leaned my head back against the couch, her weight soft against me, and let out a shaky breath.
She came back.
She chose me.
So I whispered it one last time, barely louder than a heartbeat, “I’m not letting you go again.”
She nodded, small and trembling. “I don’t want to leave,” she whispered. “I want to stay. I want to be with you.”
“Then stay,” I murmured. “Stay with me, Princess.”
We stayed quiet for a bit, taking in everything we said and letting it linger in the air. But then I felt her nuzzling her face closer towards the crook of my neck, making me believe she was falling asleep.
I lifted her up; her weight was light in my arms. Her head rested against my shoulder, her hands wrapping loosely around my neck like she still didn’t quite believe she was allowed to hold on.
Our clothes trailed behind us on the floor, forgotten, unimportant. All that mattered was that she was here. That she wasn’t walking away this time.
I nudged open the bedroom door with my shoulder and set her down gently on the bed, the sheets cool against her skin. She blinked up at me, sleepy but soft, her eyes still glassy from everything that had just happened.
“You’re staying,” I whispered, like I needed to say it out loud to make it true.
She nodded once, slow and sure.
“Yeah,” she breathed, voice fragile but certain. “I’m staying.”
I pulled the blanket over her and climbed in beside her, the air between us warm and quiet. She moved closer, tucking herself against my chest, and I wrapped an arm around her, fitting her perfectly into the space that had been empty for far too long.
Her heartbeat thudded steadily against my ribs. Mine followed.
I brushed a kiss against her temple and whispered, “Sleep, Princess.”
And when she finally drifted off in my arms, the world outside could’ve fallen apart for all I cared. Nothing else mattered.
Not anymore.
—
Morning light spilt through the blinds in soft gold lines across the bed. The city was still quiet, the kind of quiet that only happens before the world wakes up.
And there she was, still asleep, wrapped up in the sheets like she belonged there. Her hair was a mess, fanned out over the pillow, her lips parted slightly as she breathed. My arm was pinned under her, her hand clutching onto me like I was something she didn’t want to lose again.
For a minute, I didn’t move. I just… watched.
Because she was here. Really here.
Because after all the weeks of silence, the heartbreak, the guilt… I had her back.
Mine.
Completely, painfully mine.
Carefully, I slid my arm free and sat up, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before heading to my closet and pulling on a pair of sweatpants.
The floor was cold under my feet as I searched for a clean shirt, running a hand through my hair.
When I turned around, walking out of my closet, she was sitting up.
Eyes half-open, rubbing at them with one hand while the other clutched the blanket to her chest, the blanket that had slipped off her shoulder, revealing the curve of her neck, the faint marks I’d left there.
It's early, Joshua, behave.
She blinked up at me, dazed and sleepy, and I swear my chest physically ached.
She was fucking adorable, and that drove me up the wall because who the fuck was the Aurora from last night…
? Not this one, that was for sure. She looked so damn innocent, and knowing what she was capable of, that made me weak as hell.
I walked over, soft steps against the floor, and held out the shirt.
“Arms up,” I said quietly.
She obeyed without thinking, still too tired to argue. Her small hands lifted, and I slipped the shirt over her head, helping her find the sleeves before tugging the hem down to cover her properly.
“There,” I murmured, smoothing the fabric along her waist. “Better.”
She blinked again, cheeks warm, mumbling something that sounded like a quiet ‘thank you.’
I reached out, brushing my thumb over her cheek before offering her my hand. “Come on,” I said softly. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
Her fingers slipped into mine, small and trusting. And as I helped her out of bed, leaving the bedroom and heading downstairs.
Honey’s paws were the first thing I heard, the tiny thuds against the floor, the soft mewling that grew louder the second Aurora’s feet hit the bottom of the stairs.
The kitten bolted across the living room, tail flicking like lightning, and started hopping up and down in front of her legs.
Aurora laughed quietly, scooping her up with both arms as if she’d done it a thousand times before.
“Missed me?” she whispered into the fur, voice still husky from sleep.
Honey’s purr was so loud it almost rattled. And God, I didn’t know which of them looked happier. The kitten or her.
I turned toward the kitchen, trying to act normal, trying not to stare at the way she looked in my shirt with her bare legs, messy hair, soft eyes still adjusting to the light.
Breakfast. I needed to focus on breakfast. Eggs.
Toast. Coffee. Something. Except… the second I turned around, I almost ran straight into her.
She was right there, barely a few inches away, holding Honey against her chest. Her eyes widened at the same time mine did, and I had to step back to avoid bumping right into her.
“Careful,” I murmured, catching the edge of the counter with one hand.
She blinked, cheeks pink, mumbling a quiet, “Sorry.”
And I couldn’t help it. The smirk came naturally, automatic. “You usually sit over there,” I said, nodding toward her usual spot on the counter. “Didn’t realise you wanted to shadow me now.”
Her mouth fell open just slightly, and she swatted my arm with her free hand. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—”
“Sure you weren’t,” I teased, leaning down just enough for our eyes to meet. “Missed me that much already?”
She blinked before turning away to hide her smile, pretending to fuss with Honey instead.
“Missed Honey,” she said, voice soft but playful.
“Right,” I muttered, pretending to focus on the frying pan but feeling that stupid grin tug at the corner of my mouth.
Because the truth was, she had missed me.