LANCE'S POV:
It's strange.
I've handled more cases than i can count. I've defended murderers, fought for victims, overturned wrongful accusations, and stood before judges who didn't even blink while they destroyed lives with a bang of a gavel.
But nothing in my entire career prepared me for the moment Aurora's parents stepped into the condo.
She was gripping my hand tighter than usual.
Her breathing was shallow, uneven. I could feel her pulse racing through her palm.
She hadn't seen them in years.
Not since the accident.
Not since the cameras hounded her day and night and the world turned its back on her without ever listening.
Now they were here.
At the door. Standing. Crying.
Her father was the first to move. Slow steps, cautious, like he was afraid she might vanish if he got too close.
Her mother, already trembling, clutched a tissue soaked through before she could even say her daughter's name.
"Aurora…" her voice cracked mid-syllable.
Aurora didn't speak at first. She just stared. Her lip quivered. Her eyes glistened. And then, without a single word, she let go of my hand and ran into her father's arms.
I looked away.
Some moments aren't mine to witness.
This was one of them.
They sat on the couch, the three of them huddled like it was a hospital room and someone had just been brought back to life.
Because in many ways, that's exactly what it was.
"I didn't know if i'd see you again," her mother whispered, stroking Aurora's hair like she was five again.
"I wanted to come back. I just… didn't know how to explain everything."
Her father reached for her hand. "You don't have to. We saw everything."
I felt her glance at me then.
As if checking if i was still in the room. Still real. I gave her a small nod.
She smiled through the tears.
"And this," she said gently, turning to her parents and placing a hand on my shoulder, "is Lance. He's the reason i'm here."
Her parents stood and walked over to me.
"Thank you," her father said. His voice cracked, but his eyes were solid. "You saved our daughter."
I shook my head. "No, sir. I didn't save her. I just fought for the truth. She saved herself by surviving all this."
Her mother took my hand in both of hers. "Still… you stayed with her. You believed her. When no one else did."
I only nodded again.
What was i supposed to say? That i'd risked everything? That i would've burned every connection, every case, every reputation i had just to make sure she didn't suffer a minute longer?
Because i would have.
I still would.
Dinner was quiet. Polite. Safe.
Aurora laughed for the first time in days, real laughter, when her dad teased her for still being picky with vegetables. We had roast chicken, salad, and a bottle of red wine her mother insisted we open even if we were "technically still recovering from a war."
I watched her the whole time.
How she tucked her hair behind her ear.
How she bit her lip when she was nervous. How she leaned on me a little too long when she got up for water.
How her parents watched me just as closely.
After the meal, they said goodbye and promised to come back next week.
They hugged her like they'd never let go again.
And she clung to them the same way.
We were cleaning up the plates when the buzzer rang again.
"Expecting anyone?" she asked.
I frowned. "No."
When i opened the door, my jaw almost hit the floor.
"Ma? Pa?"
My parents.
Straight from Europe. With luggage.
They looked tired. Confused. Pale from the flight.
"Are we… interrupting something?" my mom asked, eyes scanning the room, landing on Aurora who was now barefoot and cradling a dish towel.
"You're back?" I asked, still dazed.
"Yes, dear," my mom said, walking past me like i was just another hotel concierge. "But you seem to have a story we weren't told."
My dad was more serious. He sat on the armrest of the couch, staring me down.
"Lance," he said. "Why did we have to find out about the trial from the news? From the embassy, no less? What the hell is going on here?"
Aurora stepped forward, clearly panicking.
But i took her hand and squeezed. She stopped shaking.
"This is Aurora," I said plainly. "She's… everything. She's also been through hell and back the past few months, and I've been with her every step."
My mom blinked. "Yeah, your girlfriend! We've met her before right"
"The Aurora," my dad finished.
"She's not a headline," I said before they could spiral. "She's a person. And right now, she needs us to be humans. Not lawyers. Not reporters. Just family."
There was a pause.
A long, heavy pause.
Then my mom walked toward her.
"I read about you," she said. "But i never knew the full story. I'm sorry for what you went through."
Aurora bit her lip again. "Thank you, tita."
"Call me Mom."
That did it.
Aurora teared up again.
My parents stayed the night.
We set up the guest room.
My mom insisted on giving Aurora a facial routine, "just like the ones we did with our clients in Milan," she said proudly. My dad, more reserved, asked her about her favorite books.
"Maybe you're not the monster the news tried to paint," he admitted.
"I'm not," Aurora said. "But i had to lose everything before people believed that."
The next morning, Nico dropped by.
He had donuts, bad jokes, and an expression I hadn't seen on him before.
"So… where's Selena?" I asked.
He scratched his head. "Why does everyone think I'm here for Selena?"
Aurora raised an eyebrow. "Because every time you say her name, you smile like an idiot."
He looked offended. "That's not true."
"It kinda is," I said, tossing him a donut. "So what's going on?"
He looked around. Then sighed. "Fine. We had coffee. That's it. Just coffee. But she's… different. Brave. She's got scars, you know? Like Aurora. But she doesn't let them define her."
"She won't," Aurora said softly. "She's stronger than most people realize."
They shared a glance.
One that said more than words could.
Later that day, Aurora and Selena had coffee again too.
I waited outside the café, letting them talk privately.
When Aurora came back, she had a look on her face i hadn't seen in a while—peace.
"She's healing," she told me. "Like we all are."
We walked home hand in hand.
The city noise around us didn't matter.
The cars. The strangers. The cameras still occasionally flashing from corners, they didn't matter anymore.
Because i had her.
And she had me.
And for the first time in a long, long while…
We were finally okay.