I watch the sun sink slowly beyond the skyline from the narrow balcony of my apartment, the last light bleeding into the city like something wounded.
Below, life goes on — cars passing, people laughing, everything moving forward.
But up here… everything feels suspended.
Still.
Too still.
Because the moment I walked away from her earlier, I knew something had shifted.
Aurora's voice.
The question in her eyes when she said Charlotte's name.
I thought I had buried that part of my life well enough that it would never find me again.
I was wrong.
I didn't expect her to find that letter.
And I definitely didn't expect her to stay calm while holding a piece of my past that could easily destroy whatever we're building.
But she did.
And somehow… that makes it worse.
Because now I don't have anger to hide behind.
No defensiveness.
No escape.
Just truth.
I close my eyes, and I'm there again — beneath the magnolias, Charlotte's laughter caught in the wind, her fingers brushing mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.
We were supposed to be forever.
Engaged. Certain. Unbreakable.
God… we were so sure.
And I was the one who walked away from that certainty.
I told myself it was responsibility.
Family. Duty. Sacrifice.
Words that sound noble until you realize they were just shields — convenient ways to avoid choosing love when it mattered most.
Because love requires courage.
And back then… I didn't have it.
So I let distance grow.
Let silence stretch.
Let her wait.
Until waiting turned into goodbye
And now there's Aurora.
Soft where Charlotte was fierce.
Patient where I was once reckless.
She looks at me like I'm worth something.
Like I'm not the man who left.
And that terrifies me more than anything.
Because for the first time in a long time…
I want to be worthy of that look.
But wanting something doesn't mean you get to keep it.
Not when your past is still breathing down your neck.
Not when the truth hasn't fully come out.
Not when one wrong step could make her walk away the same way Charlotte once did—
Except this time…
I don't think I'd survive it.
So I text her.
Not quickly.
Not easily.
But because I have no other choice.
Aurora… we need to talk. Not just about her. About everything.
The message sends.
And the silence that follows is unbearable.
Because this time…
I'm not afraid of the truth.
I'm afraid of losing her because of it.