Aurora’s P.O.V

I took a deep breath, watching Mia's fingers trace the rim of her coffee cup, her gaze fixed on the swirling liquid inside. She was trying to act unaffected, but I knew her too well. The tension in her shoulders, the way she tapped her nails against the ceramic in a barely contained rhythm—it all told me she was on edge. I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice just enough to pull her attention back to me.

"Mia," I said gently, "I know you're scared of what he ...