Morning sunlight spilled into Aurora's kitchen as she poured herself a cup of tea. She planned for a quiet morning—open the shop, water the flowers, maybe tease Damian if he looked extra grumpy today.
But when she opened her front door…
There he was.
Damian Hale.
Standing on her porch.
Holding the same rose she'd given him yesterday.
Except—
It was alive.
And blooming.
Aurora's eyes widened. "Wait—what? It survived?"
Damian lifted the rose slightly. "I didn't stare at it this time."
She laughed. "Congratulations. You and the rose are healing together."
He rolled his eyes, but she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "I came because we… had an agreement. For the writing."
Ah.
Right.
She'd promised to help him.
Aurora stepped aside. "Come in."
Damian hesitated at the threshold like a vampire unsure if he was allowed. When he finally entered, he walked carefully, as if afraid to disturb anything.
Aurora put her hands on her hips. "Relax. You look like you're expecting my furniture to bite."
"Your sister might," he muttered.
Aurora snorted. "That's fair."
She gestured toward the table. "Sit. Show me what you've got."
Damian set his notebook down, flipping to a page half-filled with scribbles. Not neat, elegant handwriting. No—these were frantic words written by someone who didn't know what he wanted to say.
Aurora sat beside him and leaned in.
Damian stiffened.
Like… really stiffened.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yes," he said immediately.
He was not okay.
Color lightly stained the tips of his ears.
Aurora bit back a smile.
She focused on the words.
A scene.
A couple meeting again after years of heartbreak.
Soft. Raw. Beautiful—
Until the last line.
"But he didn't deserve to hold her hand anymore."
Aurora's chest tightened. "Damian…"
He didn't look at her. "It's garbage."
"It's not garbage. It's honest."
"Honesty doesn't sell books."
"People don't read books to escape honesty," Aurora said. "They read them to feel less alone."
He finally looked at her.
Really looked.
His storm-blue eyes softened as if no one had ever said that to him.
Before he could respond—
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
Aurora jolted. "Uh—who…?"
Damian stood quickly, almost knocking over his chair. "I should go."
Aurora grabbed his sleeve again. "Wait—"
The door opened before she could finish.
"Morning, Aurora!"
It was Ethan Brooks.
Local handyman.
Golden-retriever energy.
Sunshine smile that blinded half the town.
And the one person who'd been gently (or aggressively) flirting with Aurora since high school.
Ethan's smile faltered when he noticed Damian standing inside her house.
"…Oh. Didn't know you had company."
Aurora's brain short-circuited.
"Oh—uh—Ethan, this is—"
"Damian," he said stiffly.
Aurora blinked. Damian rarely introduced himself. To anyone.
Ethan nodded, friendly but confused. "Right. Well, I came to fix that squeaky back gate for you."
Aurora brightened. "Oh! Yes, thank you."
Damian's jaw tightened.
Just slightly.
"Do you need help?" Damian asked suddenly.
Aurora blinked. "Help with what?"
"The gate," he said, voice flat. "Since he's here."
Ethan laughed. "Relax, man. It's just a gate."
Damian did not look relaxed.
Aurora gently stepped forward. "Damian, it's fine. Ethan's fixed stuff around here for years."
Damian's eyes flicked to her.
Then to Ethan.
Then back to her.
Something unfamiliar tightened behind his expression.
Something almost…
Possessive?
No. Couldn't be.
Damian picked up his notebook. "You're busy. We'll continue later."
He headed for the door.
Aurora reached out. "Damian, wait—"
He paused.
Just for a heartbeat.
But didn't look back.
"I'll see you," he murmured, and stepped outside, leaving the rose on her table.
Ethan watched him go. "Is he always that intense?"
Aurora stared at the rose.
Its petals sharp and brilliant, almost defiant.
"…Not always," she whispered.
But her chest felt strangely hollow.
Why did it bother her so much that Damian left?
And why did he look at Ethan like that?
As if…
As if Aurora belonged to someone.