Dominic's Chronicles
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Sunday.
My only free day of the week, though it never really felt like one.
I'd tried to sleep in, but my mind refused to rest. It kept replaying the same moments — her eyes, the silence between us, the things I said that I shouldn't have.
I told myself it was for the best, that drawing a line was the right thing to do.
But sometimes doing the right thing felt a lot like punishment.
The house was unusually lively this morning — faint laughter drifting from the dining room, the clatter of dishes, voices overlapping.
Damian.
He had a way of making any room warmer, lighter.
Still, the sound was unexpected. I hadn't realized he was here already.
I straightened my shirt, ran a hand through my hair, and glanced briefly at the desk in my study. The folder with her sketches was still there, tucked beneath a few files. I hadn't been able to put it away completely.
Something about those drawings — the quiet precision, the emotion in the lines — it was unmistakably her.
I told myself I'd ask her about them later. Then immediately decided I wouldn't.
I left the study and walked toward the sound.
The moment I stepped into the dining room, three heads turned.
I stopped for a second — not just because Damian was there, but because sitting beside him, laughing like he owned the place, was Alex.
Of course.
He grinned when he saw me. "Dominic! Finally decided to join the living, huh?"
Damian raised his mug slightly in greeting. Aurora… didn't move.
She was seated at the far end of the table, hair pulled back loosely, a soft cream sweater draped over her shoulders. The morning light caught on her skin, making her look almost unreal.
She didn't look at me, not directly. But I felt her presence the way you feel warmth from across a room — quiet, steady, impossible to ignore.
"Good morning," I said simply, taking the seat opposite Alex.
"Morning," Damian replied, offering a small, polite smile.
Alex was already pouring coffee. "We decided to invade your kitchen. Hope you don't mind. Damian made some pastries — surprisingly edible, by the way."
"Impressive," I said dryly, reaching for the cup.
He laughed, unbothered. "We figured we'd give Aurora a break too. She's been overworking herself lately. You should see the designs she's been coming up with. I'm telling you, genius level."
I felt my fingers still slightly on the handle of the cup.
Aurora's gaze flickered toward him, then down again, as if silently pleading for him to stop talking.
Damian caught the shift instantly, his eyes darting between us. "Alex," he said lightly, "maybe let her eat before turning her into a presentation?"
Alex chuckled, oblivious. "Right, right. But seriously, Dominic, when you see her latest sketches—"
"I already have," I said before I could stop myself.
The room went quiet.
Aurora's head lifted slowly, eyes widening just a little — enough to betray surprise. Alex blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Wait, you have? Oh. Perfect, then." He grinned, completely missing the tension. "Makes this easier."
I took a measured sip of coffee, keeping my tone even. "They're… good."
Aurora's hands tightened around her mug. For a moment, I thought she'd look at me — really look — but instead, she nodded faintly and went back to slicing her pastry, movements careful, contained.
The conversation shifted after that. Alex launched into a story about some ridiculous client, Damian teased him about his negotiation skills, and I let the noise fill the space.
It was easier that way — pretending everything was normal.
But every so often, I'd catch a small movement from her corner — the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, or the slight curve of her lips when Damian said something funny.
And I'd remember the softness in her eyes that night. The silence after I called it a mistake.
If regret had a sound, it would probably be this kind of quiet.
The morning stretched lazily, sunlight shifting through the windows. Alex and Damian decided to step out later, something about grabbing more supplies for lunch.
When they left, the house went still again.
And it was just the two of us — like it always came back to, no matter how much distance I tried to keep.
The sound of the front door opening broke through the quiet. Laughter followed — bright and familiar.
I looked up from the file I'd been pretending to read as Alex's voice carried through the hall. "We're back! And before you ask — yes, Damian made me pay for everything."
Damian's voice came next, smoother, calm as always. "You owed me."
I stood, closing the folder. Whatever peace I'd managed to build in the last few hours was gone.
A few seconds later, Alex appeared by the doorway, grinning. "Aurora's in her room, right?"
"In her painting room", I said.
"Good. I need to talk to her." He didn't wait for a response, just turned and jogged upstairs, humming under his breath.
Damian lingered behind, eyeing me like he was already planning something. "You look like you could use air," he said casually.
"I'm fine."
He smirked. "Good, because we're going out. You, me, Alex, and Aurora. Cinema. My treat."
"No."
"Yes."
"Damian."
He raised a brow. "Come on, it's Sunday. You never do anything outside this house that doesn't involve a contract. You need to unfreeze a little."
"I said no."
He grinned, the kind that meant I'd already lost. "You'll say yes when Alex starts convincing her. You wouldn't want to be the one to disappoint her, right?"
I opened my mouth to respond, but he clapped a hand on my shoulder before I could. "Thought so. Get dressed, Dominic."
And before I could stop him, he was already dragging me down the hallway toward my room.
By the time I came out, the others were already waiting near the stairs.
Alex and Damian were arguing about who'd drive, both too loud for my liking. But my attention didn't stay on them for long.
Aurora stood beside the railing, quietly adjusting her bag.
A short flared skirt — soft beige — paired with a cropped white singlet and her black boots. Her hair was tied into a low ponytail, a few loose strands falling in front and brushing against her cheek.
The outfit was simple, casual — yet it did nothing to hide the quiet confidence she carried. The soft fabric traced the curve of her figure just enough to draw the eye, and the neckline of her top hinted at more than it revealed.
It wasn't intentional — that much I knew. Aurora never tried to attract attention. She just had it. Effortlessly.
Simple. Effortless. And somehow… entirely disarming. I told myself it was nothing. Just another distraction I didn't need.
Alex turned just in time to catch my expression and grinned. "Careful, big guy. We're going to the movies, not a fashion show."
Damian chuckled. "She's going to make half the crowd stare. You'd better keep your guard up, Dominic."
Aurora shot him a small glare — not angry, but embarrassed — and signed something quick to Alex. He laughed. "She says we both talk too much."
I looked away, trying to focus on the keys in my hand instead of the curve of her smile. "Let's go before I change my mind."
The ride was quiet at first. Alex and Damian filled the silence with meaningless chatter — debating snacks, movie trailers, and who had worse taste.
Aurora sat by the window, the city lights reflecting in her eyes, one hand resting near the glass.
At some point, Alex turned in his seat, holding out a small cup. "Vanilla," he said, wiggling it toward her. "Your favorite."
She smiled, soft and warm, taking it with a nod. She typed something quickly on her iPad and showed him.
You remembered.
"Of course," he said, grinning. "You're my sister."
For a fleeting second, something settled in me — a small, inexplicable calm. Seeing her like that. Smiling. At ease.
At the cinema, the noise, the crowd, even the dim lights felt foreign to me. I wasn't used to this — to laughter, popcorn, and pointless arguments about who picked the better seat.
But Aurora was. Or at least, she was trying to be.
Halfway through the movie, she leaned forward slightly, laughing silently at something on the screen, her shoulders shaking just a little.
And I realized it was the first time I'd seen her laugh since that night.
When the movie ended, Alex bought them all another round of snacks "for the road." Damian kept teasing him about his sugar intake while Aurora typed out sarcastic responses that made both of them laugh harder.
I followed behind them, half-listening, half-lost in thought.
It shouldn't have been this easy — feeling like she still belonged here.
But she did.
The drive back was quieter, softer. Aurora rested her head against the window, the faintest hint of a smile still on her lips.
Alex and Damian were still talking — plans, jokes, noise — but I barely heard them.
Because every few minutes, my eyes would drift to her reflection in the glass.
And for the first time in a long while, I wished Sunday nights didn't end so quickly.
By the time we pulled back into the driveway, the sky had already begun to darken — a deep shade of indigo stretching over the quiet street.
The headlights cut through the stillness, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside had shrunk down to just the four of us.
Alex stretched as he stepped out of the car. "Well, that was worth it," he said, grinning. "Even you looked like you almost had fun, Dominic."
Damian chuckled. "Almost. I'll take that as a win."
Aurora stood beside me, holding the empty cup of ice cream Alex had gotten her. She glanced up briefly when Damian turned to her.
"You were quiet," he said gently. "But it suits you. You make silence seem loud."
She smiled — small but genuine — before typing quickly on her iPad and showing him:
Thank you for dragging him out. He needed it more than he admits.
Damian laughed. "I'll take that as my good deed for the week."
Alex slung his arm around her shoulders. "You did good too, sis. And if you ever need another ice cream date—"
"Don't even think about it," I cut in, adjusting my sleeve.
He raised a brow. "What, you jealous?"
"No," I said flatly, earning a laugh from both him and Damian.
They started walking toward their cars, still teasing.
"Anyway," Alex called over his shoulder, "we'll let you two rest. I'll check in tomorrow. Don't stay up too late."
Damian gave a small wave. "And don't pretend you're working, Dominic. Try existing."
I shook my head, half amused despite myself. "Drive safe."
Their voices faded as the cars pulled out of the driveway, headlights sliding across the walls until the house fell into quiet again.
Aurora and I stood there for a moment, the night air cool against the skin, carrying the faint scent of flowers from her garden.
When I finally looked at her, she was already looking at me. Not for long — just enough for something unspoken to pass between us.
"Come on," I said quietly. "Let's go inside."
She nodded, following me toward the front door. The echo of our footsteps filled the hall — hers light and unhurried, mine heavier, deliberate.
Inside, the warmth hit almost immediately, soft light spilling from the chandelier. She set her bag on the console, brushing a few strands of hair back from her face.
For some reason, I didn't move right away. I just watched her — the calm in her movements, the quiet grace that made even the smallest things look intentional.
She turned slightly, noticing me still standing there, and tilted her head as if to ask what is it?
I hesitated, then said, "You looked… different today."
Her brows lifted a little. She reached for her iPad and typed:
Different how?
"Lighter," I said after a pause. "Happier."
A soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She typed again and held it up.
It was a good day.
I nodded slowly. "It was."
For a moment, neither of us moved. The silence wasn't heavy this time. It just… lingered. Familiar, but softer somehow.
Then she gave a small nod and started up the stairs. I stayed where I was, watching until she disappeared around the corner.
I told myself it was nothing — that it was just a quiet night after a long day.
But as I turned off the lights and the house fell into darkness, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was shifting between us again — something I wasn't ready to name.
After Aurora went upstairs, the house fell quiet again.
I tried to convince myself that the stillness was comforting, but it wasn't.
By the time I made it to my room, I already knew sleep wasn't coming. I sat on the edge of the bed, loosening my tie, staring at the ceiling.
The faint scent of her lingered in the air, subtle and persistent, as if she hadn't really left.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Damian.
I picked it up. "It's late," I said.
"Exactly why I'm calling," he replied. "You've been off all day. I could see it even at the cinema."
"I'm fine," I said flatly.
"You're fine like a storm is fine. Talk to me, Dom. Something's on your mind."
I hesitated. My thumb hovered over the screen. I didn't want to say it. Not yet. But he was my brother — he'd see through any lie.
Finally, I exhaled. "It's Aurora."
There was a pause. "Aurora? What about her?"
I swallowed. "Something… happened between us that night."
"Something?" His tone sharpened. "Define something."
I hesitated again, my voice barely above a whisper. "We… kissed. And there was… an intimate moment. But nothing beyond that."
The line went silent for a beat. Then Damian's voice came, low and incredulous:
"You're kidding. You kissed her? And… had an intimate moment? With Aurora?"
"Yes," I said quietly. "I shouldn't have, but I did. And I told her afterward that it was a mistake."
He exhaled sharply. "Dominic… you—she… are you serious?"
"I had to," I said firmly. "It was complicated."
"You call it complicated," he said, though his voice softened. "I call it… I don't even know what. But you're my brother, Dom. I know you. You care about her. You just hate admitting it — maybe even to yourself."
I didn't answer.
"Look," he continued, more gently now, "you can pretend it's over, that nothing matters. But you're lying to yourself. And you know it. She cares too. I saw it today — the way she looks at you when no one else is watching."
I exhaled and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "That's exactly why I can't let it go further."
"Then stop pretending, Dom," Damian said quietly. "Feel it. Deal with it. Don't bury it under all that control and pride you're famous for. Because pretending doesn't change anything. Feelings… they always find their way out."
I didn't respond. He was right.
The line went dead, leaving only the quiet hum of the night. I sat there for a long moment, staring at the quiet shadows stretching across the room.
Maybe Damian was reading too much into it. Maybe I was too.
Aurora was just… different. I wasn't used to having someone like her around — her silence, her presence, the way she carried herself with calm defiance.
It wasn't attraction. It wasn't emotion.
It was just adjustment.
I was getting adapted to her presence, that was all.
Soon enough, it would pass — and everything would go back to normal.
At least, that's what I told myself.