Aurora's Realm
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Sleep refused to come.
I'd been staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, my fingers tracing meaningless patterns across the sheets. The house was quiet again — the kind of quiet that pressed against your chest, reminding you of everything you didn't want to think about.
Dominic's study light had gone off about an hour ago. I'd heard his footsteps earlier — steady, deliberate — moving past my door. He didn't stop. He never did.
My iPad lay on the nightstand, its screen dark. For a moment, I thought about opening it — typing something. Maybe to Alex. Maybe to no one. Just to let the thoughts out before they drowned me. But I didn't.
Instead, I got up and walked toward the balcony, pulling the curtains aside. The night breeze brushed against my skin, cool and almost kind. The garden lights below glowed faintly — soft gold against the shadows.
Somewhere inside me, I knew I should be overthinking less. I should stop wondering if he'd thought about that night too — or if he'd erased it completely, like it meant nothing.
Maybe it didn't.
Maybe it was just what he said it was — a mistake.
I wrapped my arms around myself, staring at the stars.
You need to stop this, I told myself. He's your brother's business partner. Your housemate. Nothing more.
But the ache didn't listen. The memory didn't fade.
Every time I closed my eyes, I could still feel the weight of his hand on my wrist, the warmth of his breath too close to mine, the sound of his voice when he whispered my name like it meant something.
It shouldn't matter.
It shouldn't still matter.
I let out a shaky breath and muttered under it — even though no sound left my lips.
And I'm supposed to be his wife in a couple of months.
The thought hit harder than I wanted to admit.
I turned away from the night sky and walked back to bed, forcing myself to lie down.
Just a phase, I thought.
Just me… getting used to his presence.
I closed my eyes and pulled the sheets close, trying to believe it — just as much as he probably was.
Morning crept in quietly, the sunlight slipping through the curtains before I was ready for it.
I hadn't really slept — not in the way that left you rested. My eyes burned, my body felt heavy, and my mind still echoed with words I never said.
I went through my routine anyway. Washed my face. Brushed my hair. Tied it into a messy low ponytail. I picked one of my simpler dresses — white, loose, comfortable. I didn't want to look like I was trying too hard.
Downstairs, the faint smell of coffee drifted from the kitchen. Mrs. Langley had probably come early to prepare breakfast before leaving again.
When I entered the dining room, he was already there.
Dominic sat at the far end of the table, newspaper open, cup of coffee in hand — composed, focused, like every other morning. If he noticed me come in, he didn't show it immediately. His eyes remained on the print.
I hesitated for a moment, then sat across from him.
"Morning," he said finally, without looking up. His tone was calm. Neutral.
I nodded once in reply, opening my iPad and typing:
Morning.
He only hummed quietly in response.
The silence that followed wasn't new, but today it felt different. He didn't look at me the way he used to — no stolen glances, no subtle tension. Just stillness. Controlled. Distant.
It shouldn't have bothered me, but it did. He took another sip of coffee, then closed the newspaper. "Your brother called last night. He mentioned something about the partnership project being finalized this week."
I blinked and typed quickly:
Ohh, i wasn't aware....I'll send the updated designs today.
Dominic nodded once, his gaze briefly flicking toward me — just for a second — before he looked away again. "Good."
The quiet settled again. Cutlery clinked softly against the plates, the only sound filling the space between us.
Part of me wanted to break it — to say something, anything — but words would have been useless, and typing felt heavier than usual.
After a while, I pushed my plate back and stood.
His voice came, low and almost hesitant. "You didn't eat much."
I stopped, fingers hovering over the screen for a second before typing:
Not that hungry.
He only nodded. "You should rest later. You've been working too much lately."
I looked at him for a brief moment — at the man who could say something that sounded almost like care, and yet keep his expression perfectly unreadable.
Then I nodded once, gathered my iPad, and walked out quietly.
As I reached the hallway, I glanced back — he was already back to his paper, as if I'd never been there.
I tried not to think about how much that hurt.
I spent most of the morning trying to distract myself in my studio. The sunlight filtered through the blinds in soft streaks, glinting off my brushes and the glass jars lined neatly by the window.
But my mind refused to stay quiet.
Dominic's words from breakfast kept echoing in my head — the calm way he'd said he wanted to "review the rest of my designs soon."
I hadn't even told him I'd been updating them.
I sighed, reaching for my iPad, and tapped on FaceTime. Alex picked up almost immediately, his face appearing on the screen, bright as ever.
"Hey, sis," he said, squinting. "You look like you're about to scold me."
I typed quickly:
Dominic said something this morning. He wants me to send my updated designs today. Did you tell him about them?
Alex blinked, scratching the back of his neck. "Oh—uh… he called me last night. Said he was finally ready to use your collection for the launch. I figured you already knew."
My brows furrowed. I typed again:
No, I didn't.
"Oh." He winced. "Sorry. I thought he'd mentioned it. He asked if you had any recent drafts or new sketches, and I told him you'd been updating some."
I stared at the screen, fingers hovering above the keyboard.
So Dominic had asked. Himself.
He didn't even tell me that directly, I typed slowly.
Alex sighed. "Sis, he's probably waiting for you to send them. You know how he is with formality. Don't overthink it, okay? This is actually a big deal. He wants your designs, Aurora. That's huge."
I swallowed hard and nodded faintly.
He smiled, softer this time. "I'll call you later. Just… don't be mad. He means well."
I ended the call and sat back, staring blankly at the half-finished sketches on my desk.
He wanted to use my designs.
He'd told Alex, not me.
My fingers clenched around my stylus.
I sat there for a while, staring at my iPad screen even after the call ended.
The little reflection of myself in the black glass looked… tired.
He wanted my designs.
He'd gone through Alex to ask for them, like I was some stranger working under him.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. Maybe I was overreacting — or maybe it just hurt more than I wanted to admit.
I opened my sketchbook again, flipping through the pages of rough drafts until I reached the new ones — the ones I'd poured myself into these past few weeks. The colors were bolder, cleaner. The lines stronger. Every detail had a little more of me in it.
I shouldn't have cared so much that he didn't tell me himself. But I did.
When I was done updating the final version, I plugged in my flash drive and began transferring the files. Halfway through, I realized something ridiculous — I didn't even have Dominic's number or email address.
We lived in the same house, but everything between us still had to go through Alex.
My fingers hovered over my phone for a moment before I opened our chat.
Can you send me Dominic's work email?
It took Alex less than a minute to reply.
Sure. Here you go.
I copied it, pasted it into a new draft, and attached the files. Then I typed slowly:
Good afternoon, Dominic.
Alex mentioned you requested the updated designs.
Please find them attached below.
My fingers hesitated over the send button.
Something inside me whispered not to.
To wait — to talk to him first.
But another voice, quieter and colder, reminded me that maybe he didn't want that.
So I pressed Send.
Then I leaned back in my chair, exhaling shakily.
For a moment, the room felt too small.
Too quiet.
So I stood, grabbed my sketchbook, and walked out to the garden.
The late afternoon sun painted everything in gold, the breeze soft against my skin. I sat on the stone bench near the tulips and closed my eyes, letting the air fill my lungs.
Out here, away from him, it was easier to think.
To stay calm.
To remember that not everything needed to mean something.
By the time I opened my eyes again, the sky had begun to change — streaks of pale orange melting into soft blue.
I checked the time on my phone. Almost four.
Maybe it was pointless to keep avoiding him. If he wanted the updated designs, I could at least make sure he got them properly — in person. I didn't want to seem unprofessional just because things between us had grown… awkward.
I went back inside, heading straight for my room. The house felt still, the kind of stillness that made every sound echo.
I slipped into a pair of black joggers and a cropped gray hoodie, pulling the hem down as far as it would go. My white sneakers waited by the door, neatly aligned like everything else in my space.
I brushed out my hair and left it loose this time. It fell straight and smooth, down to my waist, brushing lightly against the back of my hoodie with every movement. Simple. Comfortable. Not something that screamed effort.
When I was done, I took one last look at myself in the mirror.
No makeup, no gloss — just me.
Grabbing my tablet and flash drive, I sent a quick message to the driver.
Blackwood Tower.
The ride there was silent. The city was alive as always — car horns, fading conversations, the hum of movement. Everything outside the window felt faster than what was happening inside me.
When the car finally pulled up to the glass-fronted building, I paused before stepping out.
Blackwood Tower stood tall and dark against the evening light — sleek lines, steel reflections, the kind of structure that carried authority without needing to say a word. As usual.
Inside, the lobby smelled faintly of coffee and polished marble. The receptionist — a young woman in a crisp navy suit — looked up immediately when she saw me.
"Good afternoon, Miss Aurora," she said with a professional smile. "Mr. Blackwood is in a meeting but should be finishing soon. You can take the private elevator to his floor."
I nodded in thanks, typing a quick thank you before slipping my phone back into my pocket. How she knew who I was i didn't know but I dismissed the thought rather too quickly.
The elevator ride was silent except for the soft hum of machinery. My reflection stared back at me — calm on the surface, but I could feel the quiet thrum of nerves beneath it.
When the doors slid open to the top floor, I stepped out into the familiar glass-and-wood hallway.
And there she was.
Ana. His assistant.
She looked up from the stack of folders in her hands, her expression polite but curious.
"Miss Aurora," she greeted, straightening a little. "I didn't know you were coming in today."
I offered a small smile, tapping quickly on my phone.
I came to drop off the updated designs for Mr. Blackwood.
Ana nodded. "He's just wrapping up a call. You can wait in his office if you'd like."
I hesitated only a second before she opened the door for me.
The familiar scent of cedar and faint cologne drifted out immediately — Dominic's office.
I stepped inside quietly, the sound of the door closing behind me soft but final.