Part 98
For the first time, Aura feels calm.
Not the trembling kind of calm that hides under fear — no, this is the stillness that comes when something she's been chasing is finally hers.
Adrian is here.
In the next room. Breathing, moving, existing in the same space as her.
She hears him flipping the pages of the book she left, and a warm ache spreads through her chest.
He's reading again. That small sound — paper against paper — feels like music.
Like proof that she's done the right thing.
She sets down the dish she's washing and glances toward the closed door.
For a moment, she just stands there, listening.
The silence is steady.
He hasn't yelled. He hasn't begged.
He's adjusting.
That word fills her with pride.
Maybe, she thinks, he's finally realizing that this is better — that the world outside only hurt him, twisted him, devoured him until there was nothing left but exhaustion.
Here, he doesn't need to perform.
Here, he's safe.
Her lips curl into a soft, private smile.
She remembers how he'd smiled earlier — small, tired, but real.
It wasn't the plastic grin from his idol days. It was raw, vulnerable. Honest.
And it was for her.
She walks to his door and stops, fingertips brushing the handle but not turning it.
She doesn't want to break the moment.
Instead, she whispers, almost to herself,
"You'll see, Adrian… this is where you belong. With me. Away from all of them."
The words melt into the quiet air, heavy with devotion.
Then, for the first time in a long while, Aura sits down on the couch and lets herself breathe.
He's reading.
He's calm.
He's hers.
And for tonight, that's enough.