Chapter Four

“Aurora, Are You Ready?”

Alex didn’t want to go out. Not really. Not after the chaos of the past few days. But when Vanessa called and asked to see him, there was something heavy in her voice. Something that felt less like seduction and more like sadness.

So he agreed.

They met at an upscale restaurant. Vanessa looked stunning in a dark green dress that shimmered under the chandelier lights, but her smile was dim. Alex sat across from her, unsure of what he was doing there.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said, cutting into her pasta.

“I’ve been busy,” he answered, sipping his drink. “A lot’s been going on.”

“Aurora?” she asked, her tone sharp.

He didn’t respond.

She sighed, setting her fork down. “Alex, I didn’t ask you here to fight. I just… I needed to talk.”

Alex looked at her, genuinely curious. “About what?”

“I thought we had something. Maybe it was just me, but…” Her voice cracked, and her eyes glistened. “I miss you.”

Alex swallowed hard. The guilt twisted in his gut. Vanessa had always been a part of his life, at least the life he shared with Aurora, sometimes too much. But seeing her like this, vulnerable and breaking it shook him.

“I miss how things used to be,” she said softly. “Before Aurora.”

Alex leaned back. “Vanessa, I care about you. But what we had… it’s in the past.”

“Is it?” she whispered, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “Even if it’s just for tonight… can we pretend?”

He stared at her hand on his, the warmth of it, the familiar scent of her perfume. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he wanted to forget everything. Maybe, for one night, pretending was easier.

“…Just for tonight,” he said.

Vanessa smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

---

Across town, Peter slammed the door to his apartment, heart racing. Tiffany was on the couch, waiting.

“Where were you?” she asked, standing up.

“I told you I had something to do,” he muttered, heading for the kitchen.

“With Aurora, right?” she snapped. “You went to see her.”

Peter didn’t answer.

Tiffany followed him. “Don’t lie to me, Peter. I saw the way you looked at her the other day. Like you couldn’t breathe without her.”

Peter turned, his jaw clenched. “Tiff, don’t do this.”

“Then tell me I’m wrong!” she shouted. “Tell me you don’t love her!”

Silence.

Tears welled in her eyes. “You promised me… You said she was in the past. That I was your future.”

“I thought I could move on,” he admitted. “I tried. But seeing her again… it brought everything back.”

She shook her head. “You’re a coward.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, you did,” she said through gritted teeth. “And I won’t be the girl who gets tossed aside for a second choice.”

Peter sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be,” she said, her voice cold. “I’ll make sure of it.”

She grabbed her bag and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Peter stood in the silence, breathing hard, hating himself more with every passing second.

---

Vanessa’s apartment, later that night.

She stared at herself in the mirror, wiping away the remnants of mascara streaks. Her head pounded, not from alcohol, but from humiliation.

He still chose her.

Even after everything, even after she begged, Alex still wanted Aurora, can't he just be friends with her?.

Why does he want more?.

She clenched her fists on the vanity.

“No more tears,” she whispered to herself. “I tried being sweet. I tried being patient. Now…”

Her reflection stared back with hollow eyes.

“…Now she’ll see what I’m really capable of.”

---

Meanwhile, in the dark pulse of a downtown club, the mysterious man sat at the VIP lounge, flanked by security. He swirled the drink in his hand without sipping, his eyes fixed on the photograph in his other hand.

Aurora.

The same photo he’d looked at for days, burned into his mind like a brand.

His associate leaned in. “Sir, are you sure she’s worth the attention?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he traced the edge of the image with his thumb.

“She looked me in the eye,” he finally said. “No fear. No trembling. Just… rage.”

His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something else. Possession. Obsession.

“She’s not like the others,” he said, placing the photo back in his coat. “She’ll come to me. Sooner or later.”

The associate hesitated. “And if she doesn’t?”

He smiled, slow and chilling.

“Then I’ll go to her.”

To Be Continued…