The new house settled into Aurora like a favorite song she hadn't heard in years. Every creak of the wooden floor, every burst of wind against the windows, every scent of lavender from the garden whispered of beginnings—not rushed or forced, but intentional and real. She woke up wrapped in white sheets and Elias's scent, sunlight spreading across the bedroom like a silent promise. There were no alarm clocks, no calls from assistants, no headlines shouting for attention. Just morning.
And for the first time, she didn't dread it.
As she descended the staircase, still barefoot, Aurora found the kitchen warm with the smell of coffee. Elias stood by the stove, sleeves rolled, hair tousled from sleep, holding a pan with eggs that were definitely burning.
"You cook now?" she teased, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.
He turned to her, completely unfazed. "I attempt to. Emphasis on attempt."
She laughed, walking over and gently nudging him aside. "Here, let me save breakfast before we both end up poisoned."
Elias stepped back, arms folded as he watched her with quiet affection. "You look like you belong here."
"I feel like I do," she said softly.
They ate together on the patio, legs tangled under the table, the conversation light and the silences even lighter. But as Elias rose to take a call—a short business check-in she didn't mind—Aurora's eyes drifted to her phone screen. A message blinked back at her from an unknown number:
"You think this is over? Some ghosts don't stay buried."
Her hand trembled slightly, but she quickly locked the screen and placed the phone face down. Not today. She wouldn't let fear crawl back into her lungs when she'd just learned how to breathe.
Elias returned a few minutes later, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he sat. "Everything okay?"
She nodded too quickly. "Yeah. Just spam."
But he was watching her more closely now, his eyes narrowing in concern. "You sure?"
Aurora met his gaze and held it. "Positive. I'm not letting anything ruin this. Not today."
Later that afternoon, they drove to her old apartment to collect a few of her things. The building looked smaller now, more worn than she remembered. It amazed her how grief and survival could distort a place until you couldn't tell whether it was sanctuary or prison. As she stepped into the hallway, a neighbor greeted her with a surprised smile.
"Aurora? My goodness, haven't seen you in weeks!"
She returned the smile, polite but brief. "Yeah, been… busy."
"I saw you on the news. That was something, huh?" the woman continued with a conspiratorial chuckle.
Aurora gave a short nod and moved past. She didn't owe anyone an explanation. Not anymore.
Inside her old apartment, dust clung to the corners, and the air held memories like cobwebs. She walked through slowly, collecting her notebooks, a few framed photographs, and the tea set she'd refused to leave behind. Elias trailed behind her silently, letting her take her time.
When she opened the closet, her fingers brushed against an old coat—the one she'd worn the day she signed the marriage contract. The fabric still carried a faint scent of citrus and nerves.
"I was so scared that day," she murmured.
Elias stepped closer, his voice gentle. "And yet you walked in anyway."
She turned to him. "You remember what you said to me when I first walked into your office?"
"I said you were late."
She burst out laughing, shaking her head. "You were such a jerk."
"I was terrified too," he admitted. "But I covered it with arrogance."
They left with two boxes and a suitcase. As they drove back to the house, Aurora looked at the world passing by. Somehow, everything looked sharper now. Brighter.
But the message still sat at the back of her mind like a sliver of glass.
That night, as she lay in bed next to Elias, she turned to him. "Did you ever think the past would just… go away?"
"No," he said honestly. "But I don't think it has to. I think it just has to lose its power."
"What if it tries to come back?"
"Then we'll face it together."
She nodded, resting her head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady, grounding her. And for the first time since reading that message, she allowed herself to feel safe again.
But safety was always a delicate illusion.
The next morning, a courier arrived with an envelope. Elias signed for it, assuming it was a legal document. But when he opened it, the smile on his face slowly faded.
He walked into the living room where Aurora was reading. She looked up and immediately noticed the shift in his expression.
"What is it?"
He handed her the letter without a word. Her fingers unfolded it slowly, her eyes scanning the contents. It wasn't threatening in tone—just clinical. Direct. A name she hadn't heard in months.
Calista Rowe.
Aurora's throat tightened. "She's suing?"
Elias nodded grimly. "For defamation and breach of confidentiality. She's claiming the press conference damaged her career."
"But she was already suspended. And you had her removed from the board," Aurora said, her voice rising.
"She's trying to use this to regain control. Or punish us."
Aurora lowered the paper, her mind racing. "Do you think it's connected to that message I got yesterday?"
"What message?"
She blinked. "I… I told you. From an unknown number."
"No, you didn't," he said, stepping closer. "You said it was spam."
She froze.
He exhaled slowly, then softened. "Why didn't you tell me the truth?"
"I didn't want to worry you. I thought if I ignored it, it would go away."
He cupped her face gently. "Don't protect me from the past, Aurora. We fight this side by side. Always."
Tears welled in her eyes, and she nodded. "Okay. Together."
As the day unfolded, lawyers were called, statements were prepared, and their previously quiet new life trembled on the edge of something darker. But amidst the chaos, Elias never left her side. He held her hand through the meetings. Cooked her lunch even though he burned the rice. Kissed her forehead every hour like a silent vow.
The storm was coming, but this time, she wasn't running.
She was ready to face it—with him.
And she would not be the woman who crumbled. Not anymore.