The days after Aurora's return unfolded like smoke — heavy, toxic, and impossible to catch.
She didn't touch Elara again.
Not a kiss. Not a glance. Not even the usual smirk.
Instead, Aurora remained cold, composed, and maddeningly distant. She stayed in the same villa, but acted like Elara was just another piece of antique furniture.
Gone was the possessive heat, the hands that used to roam, the voice that once whispered filth against Elara's skin.
Now?
It was silence.
And it was killing her.
---
Elara found herself walking barefoot across the villa's marble floor at 3 a.m., hunting for Aurora's silhouette like an addict searching for a vein.
But all she ever found was the echo of her own breath.
She remembered the last time Aurora had held her. Pinned her to the wall. Whispered things that made her feel filthy and worshiped all at once.
Now?
Aurora passed her in hallways with blank eyes. Her presence was cold. Controlled. Businesslike.
And that... was worse than violence.
---
Elara's Journal – Day 6 After Her Return
"I thought I hated her. I thought I wanted to escape. But now that she's not touching me, not even looking at me…
It feels like dying slowly.
What kind of girl misses the cage once she's free?"
---
One night, Elara entered the kitchen and caught sight of Aurora — wine glass in hand, black silk robe hanging open just enough to show skin.
Her hair was wet. Her expression unreadable.
For a moment, their eyes met.
And Elara's breath caught.
But Aurora didn't speak.
She didn't ask where Elara had been. Didn't say she missed her. Didn't reach out.
She just sipped her wine… and walked away.
---
That was the night Elara cried — not because she hated Aurora.
But because she needed her.
---
Flashback
Elara at seventeen.
Her mother's funeral.
No one holding her. No one wiping her tears.
Alone on a bench, watching the casket drop.
She hadn't cried then.
But now, six years later, crying over a woman who broke her open and left her hollow — that was easy.
Too easy.
---
Day 10
Elara tried to leave the villa.
Again.
Suitcase in hand. Passport tucked in her bra. She got to the front door.
And froze.
Aurora was sitting on the stairs, perfectly calm, dressed in black — like always.
"I won't stop you this time," she said, without looking at her.
"I know," Elara whispered.
The silence stretched.
And then Aurora added:
"But don't expect me to come find you again."
---
That did it.
The suitcase dropped.
Elara walked away from the door. Not because she couldn't go. But because she realized something far more terrifying.
She wanted to stay.
Not for freedom. Not for love.
But because the absence of Aurora's obsession was worse than the obsession itself.
---
Elara's Bedroom – That Night
She lay awake, tossing in silk sheets that still smelled like Aurora.
She thought about the kisses, the jealousy, the way Aurora would get violent with anyone who looked at her the wrong way.
The chaos used to scare her.
Now she missed it.
---
Elara's Mind (Unspoken)
Touch me again.
Ruin me.
Please… just look at me.
---
She slipped out of bed at 2:17 a.m., walked barefoot across the cold hallway, and knocked on Aurora's door.
No answer.
Another knock.
Still silence.
She twisted the doorknob slowly — unlocked.
Aurora was inside.
Awake.
Sitting in the corner chair, legs crossed, robe loose, a blank expression on her face.
"You finally came," she murmured.
Elara stepped in like a ghost.
"I... I can't sleep."
Aurora tilted her head. "Why?"
Elara's voice cracked. "Because you're not holding me."
A pause.
A long one.
And then — for the first time in days — Aurora stood.
She crossed the room, slow as death.
Lifted Elara's chin.
Stared into her soul.
And whispered:
"Now you know what I felt the first time you left me."
---
Just as Aurora leaned in to kiss her again — someone banged violently on the villa door.
Three times.
Then silence.
Aurora's body stiffened instantly.
Elara turned, startled. "Who—"
Aurora whispered sharply:
"Stay here. Don't open that door. No matter what."
And then she vanished into the dark.
-