AURORA'S POV:
I don't know how people do it, how they stand in the middle of a life falling apart and still manage to breathe.
Because right now, I couldn't even remember how to do that properly.
I stayed still on the edge of the bed, staring at the plain white wall of the guest room in Lance's condo.
Everything outside was quiet, but inside, my thoughts were screaming.
It was almost poetic, the silence and the chaos existing at the same time.
My fingers gripped the sheets like they were the only thing anchoring me to the earth.
It had been a week since i started staying here.
Seven long days of avoiding social media, ignoring the world outside, and trying not to break down in front of Lance who, despite being a stranger before all this, was now the only person i trusted enough to sit beside me during this storm.
I heard the faint clatter of keys from the living room.
Lance was working again.
I could imagine him hunched over his laptop, scanning reports, opening files, connecting dots no one else even saw. He didn't say much, but i could tell, he wanted to solve this just as badly as i did.
Maybe more.
And he didn't have to.
That's what scared me the most.
I pulled the blanket tighter around me.
I had to stop crying.
I had to move. I had to try.
So i stood up. Shaky knees. Cold feet touching the wooden floor.
I walked to the dresser where Bianca had left my new phone, the one she bought for me after the authorities took my old one as part of their investigation.
The screen lit up with a clean interface. No apps yet except the essentials. No missed calls. No notifications.
I hesitated before unlocking it.
What was i hoping to see?
An apology from the universe?
A message from Luis saying this was all a dream?
I opened the browser instead.
Typed in my name.
"Aurora Zobel dropped from cast of The Runaway Queen, replaced by Selena Reyes."
There it was.
Selena's name in bold letters, right where mine used to be.
Selena Reyes, my friend. The girl with the softest laugh and the kindest heart. She deserved it, really. She was a rising star. Talented. Gorgeous. She'd probably carry the role better than i ever could.
But the pang in my chest? It wasn't jealousy. It was the ache of being erased.
Another headline: "Selena Reyes bags multi-brand endorsement deal following Zobel's scandal fallout."
And another: "Selena takes center stage in Solstice perfume campaign, replacing Aurora Zobel."
I clicked off.
It wasn't her fault.
It wasn't anybody's fault.
Except maybe… whoever did this to Luis.
Whoever let him die that night while i was too drunk to even remember what happened.
I stepped out of the room.
Slowly. Quietly.
Lance was sitting on the couch, face lit only by the soft glow of his screen.
His brows were furrowed.
His coffee cup sat untouched beside him, forgotten hours ago.
"I… I saw the headlines," I said, my voice lower than i expected.
He looked up. Not startled. Just aware.
"You okay?" he asked.
I nodded. Lied. "Yeah. I just… I think i'm ready to help."
Lance closed his laptop.
"You don't have to push yourself," he said, carefully. "This isn't something you recover from overnight."
"I know," I said. "But i don't want to be useless anymore. Luis was my friend."
The silence between us felt heavy, but not uncomfortable.
"I saw that the case report mentioned a certain... 'gap' in the timeline," I said, sitting across from him. "From 12:47 a.m. to 2:15 a.m. That's when Luis left the party, right?"
Lance nodded.
I inhaled. "Is it weird that… I don't remember that whole window either?"
He leaned forward. "It's not weird. It's alarming."
"I just…" I looked down at my hands. "What if they're right? What if i did something—anything that helped this happen?"
Lance didn't answer immediately.
His eyes studied me, not like a suspect, but like someone trying to understand something bigger.
"I've been doing this long enough to know when someone's lying to me, Aurora," he said. "And you? You're not."
My throat tightened.
"Then who is?" I whispered.
Lance exhaled through his nose. "That's what we're going to find out."
I nodded. "Okay. Tell me what to do."
Just then, a knock interrupted us.
I looked up instinctively, tense.
"It's just your people," Lance said, standing. "Bianca and Selena texted earlier. They said they were dropping by."
He walked to the door and opened it.
Bianca stepped in first, carrying a large paper bag in each hand. "Hey," she said softly. "Got your other stuff. Clothes, makeup, chargers. Everything."
Behind her was Selena.
Bright-eyed, but with a nervous smile. She clutched a bouquet of fresh flowers in her arms.
"I hope you don't mind," Selena said, looking at me. "I didn't want to come empty-handed."
I tried to smile. I really did.
But my throat burned.
"No, thank you," I said. "You didn't have to—"
"You don't need to thank me," she interrupted gently. "I've been trying to call you, but… I get it. You've been through hell."
Bianca set the bags down in my room, then walked out to give us space.
Lance lingered by the hallway, pretending to read something on his phone.
Selena stepped closer. "I didn't ask for the role," she said quickly. "They offered it to me and I told them I'd only accept if you were okay with it. They said you were… gone. Silent."
"I was," I whispered.
"I still feel sick about it," she continued. "This wasn't supposed to happen like this. You deserve better."
My eyes welled up again.
But this time, it wasn't sadness or anger, it was gratitude.
"Thank you," I managed to say. "You're not the enemy, Selena."
She nodded. "I know. And you're not the villain."
After a while, Bianca returned. "We should go," she said, nodding toward Selena. "We've got press stuff in an hour."
I watched them leave, and suddenly, the room felt colder again.
When the door shut, I turned to Lance. "Can i ask something?"
"Sure."
"If this was happening to someone else… would you still be helping like this?"
He looked at me. Steady. "No."
That one word echoed louder than everything else.
I looked away. "Why?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "But something about this case doesn't add up. The timeline. The lack of evidence. The way everything conveniently points to you but nothing sticks hard enough. And the way you... react. It's not guilt, Aurora. It's grief."
Grief.
That word finally described it.
"I want to remember," I said, voice shaking. "I want to remember that night."
"You will," Lance said, standing up. "But until then, let's find someone who already does."
I watched him walk back to his laptop.
His energy had shifted.
He was piecing something together, quietly but clearly.
And for the first time in weeks, I felt it too.
Hope.
Just a flicker, but enough to keep me going.