Aurora woke up to the low hum of the city outside the penthouse window, her eyes fluttering open as the morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains. For a brief moment, she forgot where she was—forgot the weight of last night's emotions and the things Elias had finally admitted. But reality caught up fast, hitting her like a wave as her gaze shifted to the figure sitting by the window.
Elias.
He wasn't dressed in one of his usual suits. Just a plain white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and charcoal gray slacks. His tie hung loosely around his neck as if forgotten. The sight was so unlike his carefully controlled image that it made her heart clench. His gaze was fixed out the window, lost in a world she couldn't yet reach.
She pushed herself up slowly, brushing her hair out of her face. "You didn't sleep."
He turned slightly, acknowledging her with a soft grunt. "Didn't feel like it."
She studied him for a beat. "Is it about last night?"
He didn't answer immediately, and she wondered if he regretted everything he'd told her—the walls he'd let down, the pain he'd exposed. But when he finally spoke, his voice was low and vulnerable.
"I don't like the way you looked at me after I said everything," he said. "Like I was broken."
Her breath caught. "That's not how I looked at you."
He turned fully to face her now, his eyes darker than she remembered, as if sleep deprivation had deepened their usual intensity. "Then how?"
"Like you were human," she said gently. "And hurting. I'm allowed to care about that."
Elias shook his head slightly, as if rejecting the idea altogether. "I don't want your pity, Aurora."
"It wasn't pity," she said firmly. "You think showing your pain makes you weak, but all I saw was a man who's been carrying too much alone."
His jaw clenched. "I've always done it alone."
"Well, maybe it's time you stopped," she whispered.
There was a silence between them, dense with emotion, until he looked away again. She got up from the bed, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders like a shield, and walked over to him.
"You told me last night that your father abandoned your mother when she needed him most. That you promised yourself you'd never be like him," she said, her voice soft but unwavering. "But shutting people out? That's not strength, Elias. It's fear."
He blinked, as if her words cut deeper than expected.
She knelt beside his chair, placing her hand on his. "Let me in."
He looked down at their hands, at the way her fingers curled around his like a lifeline. He didn't pull away this time. Instead, he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, like he was surrendering to something he'd fought for too long.
"I don't know how," he admitted.
"Then let's figure it out together."
A faint knock at the door broke the moment. Elias tensed immediately, his hand slipping from hers as he stood. "Stay here," he murmured.
She watched as he walked to the door and opened it just enough to speak with whoever was on the other side. The exchange was brief, his tone clipped and unreadable. When he returned, his expression had shifted back to the cold mask he wore in public.
"That was my assistant," he said. "I need to handle something at the office."
Aurora stood too, hugging the blanket tighter around herself. "Is everything okay?"
He hesitated. "An emergency meeting. Board-related. It won't take long."
But she sensed the lie, or at least the omission. There was more he wasn't telling her, and she knew better than to press too hard.
"Will you be back for dinner?"
"I'll try."
She nodded, forcing a small smile. "I'll be here."
He lingered for a second, then reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. The gesture was so tender it almost broke her. Then, without another word, he turned and left.
The door clicked shut behind him, and Aurora was alone again.
She stared at the door for a long while before walking over to the wardrobe and pulling out her clothes. The warmth of last night still lingered in her skin, but so did the ache of the distance he'd placed again this morning.
Downstairs, she made herself a cup of tea and sat on the velvet couch, scrolling through her phone to distract herself. Her fingers paused on a message from Camilla.
"How are you really?"
Aurora hesitated, then typed back:
"Confused. But I think he's trying."
A reply came within seconds.
"Trying isn't enough if it keeps breaking you."
She stared at the screen, her chest tightening. Camilla was right, in a way. Elias had made progress, but he was still wrapped in chains he wasn't sure how to break. And every time he took a step forward, he seemed to retreat two steps back.
Later that afternoon, she walked into the library room Elias kept near the study. It was quiet, elegant, filled with leather-bound books and mahogany furniture. A place of refuge—and secrecy.
She browsed the shelves absentmindedly until her hand brushed a book that was slightly out of place. Pulling it out revealed a thin leather notebook tucked behind it. She hesitated before opening it, guilt nibbling at the edges of her curiosity.
Inside, she found scribbled notes—his handwriting, jagged and fast. Ideas. Thoughts. Fragments of Elias, scattered in ink.
But then a page caught her attention.
"She makes the silence bearable. But if she knew everything, she'd run."
Her breath hitched. The entry wasn't dated, but the words felt recent. They pierced through her like arrows, each syllable echoing with his fear of vulnerability.
She closed the notebook and put it back exactly where she found it. The gesture felt invasive, and yet part of her was glad to have read it. At least now she knew—he cared. Deeply.
When Elias returned that evening, his features were unreadable again. He didn't mention the meeting, and she didn't ask. They ate dinner together in a quiet rhythm, their conversation light but fragile.
Afterward, they sat on the couch, a movie playing in the background. Aurora leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, waiting for him to relax. It took a while, but eventually, his arm wrapped around her, anchoring her to his side.
"You found my notebook," he murmured.
Her body stiffened. "You knew I would?"
"I didn't hide it that well."
She pulled back slightly to meet his gaze. "Was it a test?"
"No," he said. "But I hoped if you read it, you'd understand."
"I do," she said. "I just need you to stop running."
He nodded slowly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm trying."
And for once, she believed him.
She nestled deeper into the crook of his arm, feeling the quiet thump of his heartbeat beneath his shirt. It was steady, controlled—just like everything else about Elias. Yet, in this silence, there was an honesty he didn't know how to express with words. His body, relaxed against hers, spoke louder than any sentence could.
Aurora didn't speak either. She simply let the moment breathe, absorbing the rare intimacy between them. And for once, the space between them wasn't filled with tension, just quiet understanding.
After a while, Elias broke the silence.
"I thought being close to someone would make me lose control," he said softly. "That if someone got too close, they'd find something… ugly."
Aurora looked up at him. "And what did you find?"
He hesitated. "Peace. But also fear. That I don't know how to keep it."
"You don't have to figure it out in a day, Elias. Relationships aren't built on perfection. They're built on presence."
His jaw shifted slightly as he processed her words. "I've failed at presence before."
"But you're here now," she said gently. "You chose to come back."
That admission seemed to settle something in him. His grip around her waist tightened ever so slightly, not possessive, but grounding. Like he needed to remind himself that she was real and still there.
"You know, I never imagined my life would look like this," Aurora said after a moment, her voice thoughtful. "A fake marriage with a man everyone thought had ice in his veins, and yet here I am… finding pieces of warmth in places I didn't expect."
He chuckled, low and dry. "And here I am, trying to remember how to feel."
"You do feel," she said softly. "You just don't always know what to do with the feelings."
His gaze found hers, intense but not hard. "What do you see when you look at me now?"
She reached up, brushing her fingers along his jaw. "A man who's learning to heal. And despite everything, someone I'm starting to trust."
Trust.
The word seemed to hang in the air between them. Elias didn't flinch or retreat this time. Instead, he nodded slowly, like the weight of her belief in him was something he could lean on.
Just then, his phone buzzed on the coffee table.
He didn't reach for it immediately, but Aurora noticed the name flash on the screen: Leila Bradford.
The name struck a chord in her memory. Wasn't she the woman from the last charity gala? The one who had openly flirted with Elias, and whom Aurora hadn't thought much about until now.
Elias picked up the phone, turned the screen away, and let the call die. He didn't say anything about it, just slipped it into his pocket and looked back at her.
"You're wondering who that was," he said.
"I wasn't going to ask."
"But you should."
Aurora bit her lip. "Alright. Who is she?"
"She's a business associate. She's been persistent, even though I've made it clear I'm not interested. She doesn't like to hear 'no.'"
Aurora raised an eyebrow. "And what does she want from you?"
"She wants to be relevant. Preferably by being seen with me. It's always about power for people like her."
"And is she a threat to us?"
His eyes darkened. "No one is a threat to you, Aurora. I won't allow it."
The way he said it—so final, so sure—made her chest tighten. It wasn't just about possessiveness. There was protection in his voice. A promise she hadn't expected.
"Do you always take care of the people you let in?" she asked.
He didn't blink. "Every single one. I may not always do it right. But I protect what's mine."
Aurora swallowed. That word—mine—had such a weight to it when Elias said it. Not as ownership, but as connection. Bond. Claim.
"Then I guess I should start seeing myself that way," she whispered. "Yours."
He pulled her closer, forehead resting against hers. "Only if I can be yours too."
She smiled, her fingers threading through his hair. "It's a deal."
Another buzz interrupted the stillness—this time, a message. Elias ignored it, his attention fully on her now. "Let's go away for a few days. Somewhere quiet."
She blinked. "Really?"
"I think we need space. Not from each other—from everything else. The business, the pressure, the pretending."
Her heart swelled. "I'd love that."
"Good," he said. "I'll have it arranged by morning."
She felt something shift inside her. The man who had once treated their marriage like a contract was now asking for time together just because he wanted it. Because he wanted her.
And that was more than she could have hoped for.
They spent the rest of the evening wrapped in each other's presence. No elaborate gestures. No rehearsed lines. Just comfort, laughter, and shared silence. When it was time for bed, Elias took her hand and led her there, not like a man fulfilling obligation, but like someone coming home.
He didn't speak as they lay together beneath the sheets. Instead, he watched her as she drifted into sleep, his thumb stroking the back of her hand in soft, rhythmic circles.
Aurora's breathing deepened, steady and warm beside him. And Elias, for the first time in years, didn't feel the need to stay awake guarding the darkness.
He closed his eyes.
He let himself rest.