His hands shook with the effort it took not to march across the room, drag her away from that guy, remind her who she belonged to.
But no.
He needed to be smart.
Strategic.
Aurora wouldn't come back to him if he scared her off.
She had to want to come back.
She had to miss him first.
And he would make damn sure she did.
Meanwhile, Lucas stood, dusting off his jeans. "Hey," he said, a little nervously. "Would you... maybe want to grab a coffee sometime? To talk more about Harrow? Or just... anything?"
Aurora hesitated. For the first time in a long while, her heart didn't immediately slam the door shut.
"Yeah," she said softly. "I'd like that."
Lucas smiled, bright and genuine. "Cool. Um... Saturday?"
"Saturday sounds good."
Their fingers brushed briefly. Aurora felt a small spark at the touch,not overwhelming, not consuming, but... real.
As she watched Lucas walk away, Aurora allowed herself a rare moment of peace.
Maybe she wasn't ready to fall in love again.
Maybe she didn't have to be.
Maybe it was enough, for now, to just be open to the possibility.
She gathered her things slowly, slinging her bag over her shoulder, her phone forgotten for the moment.
If she had looked, she would have seen Ethan's name flashing across the screen again.
But she didn't.
For the first time in months, she chose herself.
The crisp evening air kissed Aurora's cheeks as she stepped outside the library.
She pulled her cardigan tighter around herself, inhaling deeply.
There was something healing about the scent of old paper lingering on her clothes, about the way the world quieted down in the library's shadow.
Aurora hadn't realized just how heavy her chest had felt until now.
Until talking with Lucas had given her a glimpse of something lighter.
She had only taken a few steps across the courtyard when she heard footsteps behind her.
Fast.
Purposeful.
She tensed, her fingers tightening around her bag strap, but before she could turn around….
"Aurora!"
She froze.
She knew that voice.
Knew it in the way a burn victim knows the sting of flame.
Slowly, she turned.
Ethan stood there, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, a forced smile on his lips. His hair was scattered like he had run his fingers through it too many times, his eyes bright with something agitating underneath the charm he was trying to wear like armor.
"Hey," he said, trying to sound casual.
Aurora said nothing.
He took a step closer.
"I saw you," he added. "In there. With... that guy."
Still she said nothing.
She didn't owe him words.
Not anymore.
Ethan's smile faltered.
His hands fidgeted at his sides.
"I just... wanted to see how you were doing," he said, the mask slipping, desperation peeking through. "You look good. Really good."
Aurora lifted her chin slightly. "I'm fine," she said simply.
He flinched at the coldness in her tone.
"You're mad," Ethan said quickly. "I get it. I deserve it. I just…"
"You cheated, Ethan," Aurora interrupted quietly. Her voice didn't rise; it didn't need to. "Over and over again. You lied. You broke promises. And every time, you said you were sorry. Every time, I believed you."
"I know," Ethan whispered, his shoulders sagging.
"And you never changed," Aurora continued, her throat tightening. "You just got better at hiding it."
Ethan opened his mouth and closed it abruptly.
For once, he had no excuse, no charming apology, no clever words to wrap around her heart.
"You don't get to follow me around," Aurora said, voice steady. "You don't get to show up and pretend we're something we're not."
Something broke in Ethan's expression then…something fragile and ugly.
"You think you're better off with him?" he spat, bitterness rising to the surface. "That guy doesn't even know you! He doesn't know anything about you!"
Aurora smiled sadly.
"Maybe not yet," she said. "But he'll know the real me. Not just the version he can use."
She turned to leave.
"You'll come back," Ethan called after her, voice raw. "You'll see. No one will ever love you like I did!"
Aurora didn't even flinch.
Without looking back, she walked away.
She didn't need Ethan's kind of love anymore.
She deserved more.
She deserved better.
By the time Aurora reached her tiny off-campus apartment, she felt like every emotion in her chest had been wrung out like a wet towel.
She dropped her bag on the couch and sank onto it, staring at the ceiling.
Her phone buzzed on the table. A message.
Lucas: "Hey, just making sure you got home safe. It was really great talking to you today."
Aurora smiled.
A real smile.
She typed back: "Thank you. I had a really great time too."
She hesitated for a second before adding:
"Looking forward to Saturday."
She hit send before she could overthink it.
Before she could let fear creep back in.
For the first time in a long while, Aurora felt something fierce and stubborn blooming inside her.
Hope.
And she wasn't about to let Ethan or anyone else poison it again.
Ethan sat in his car across the street from her building, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.
He watched the faint light glow behind her window, imagining her smiling down at her phone, maybe texting that guy.
Lucas.
He hated him.
He hated how easy it had been for Lucas to slide into Aurora's life.
Hated how happy she looked without him.
Ethan knew he had made mistakes.
He knew he had messed up.
But he also knew one thing with cold, brutal certainty:
Aurora belonged to him!.
And if she wouldn't come back willingly...
He wasn't above giving her a little reminder.
Aurora woke to a soft knock on her door the next morning.
Confused, she padded to the entrance, still in her pajamas, her hair a mess.
When she opened it, no one was there.
Only a small package, wrapped neatly, sitting on the welcome mat.
No note.
No address.
Heart thudding, Aurora picked it up carefully and brought it inside.
She unwrapped it.
Inside was a worn copy of 'Where the Wild Sorrows Bloom' the very edition she had mentioned yesterday to Lucas.
Her breath caught.
Was it from him?
Or...
Her stomach twisted.
Or was it from Ethan?
She checked her phone. No message from Lucas.
And somehow, she knew.
Knew in her gut that Lucas wasn't the type to leave gifts without saying anything.
Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched the book.
This wasn't a romantic gesture.
This was a warning.
She was being watched.