Aurora wakes up with a jolt — her heartbeat erratic, breath shallow. The memory of the night before clings to her skin like sweat. She touches her lips, as if to confirm she hadn't tasted anything she shouldn't have.
Her phone buzzes. One unread message — from the Truth.
The Truth: A date, hmm. You were close to becoming a cannibal.
Her stomach twists, hollow and heavy all at once. Her soul seems to step out of her body, leaving behind only the chill. The Truth is displeased. And when the Truth is displeased, it never ends well.
She shuts her phone. Tries to breathe. Tries to pretend her own instincts didn't betray her last night.
thumb.
---
Luna tosses a teasing grin her way. "So… how was your date?" She eyes Aurora's neck dramatically. "Hmm. I see no hickey."
Aurora chuckles. "The author promised no romance — at least, not the usual kind."
"Huh?"
"Nothing," Aurora mutters and walks off.
"Aurora, go to table no. 10," her boss barks from the kitchen.
She grabs her notepad and heads to the far end of the café. "What would you like to order, sir?" she says while looking down at her notepad.
"A Squirtle soup," says the customer, his mischievous tone catching her attention.
She looks at him. Blonde hair, soft freckles, ocean-blue eyes — calmer than the sea itself, but hiding secrets. The sight melts something tight inside her.
"You… you're here?" she says, stunned and warm all at once. She almost jumps in excitement, forgetting the message from the Truth.
He stands, arms open. "Aurora, I expect a hug."
She laughs and steps into the embrace — the kind of hug that feels like coming home after ten years. Because that's what it is. Nearly a decade.
"I'm really happy to see you moving on. Like… when I heard about your uncle—"
She cuts in quickly. "It's in the past. May my uncle (not) rest in peace."
That satisfies him. He gently kisses her forehead — nothing romantic, just the weight of friendship stitched through time.
"What brings you to Norwich?"
"You'll find out soon," he replies with a knowing smirk.
"Take the damn order, useless!" Geraldine yells.
They both glance at her, then burst into laughter.
"Fine, I'm leaving. But I'll visit your apartment after your shift," he says, walking out casually like he owns the street.
By dusk, Aurora finishes her work and walks home. Her shoulders still carry a hint of the morning's dread, but her steps are lighter. When she reaches her apartment, her heart warms at the sight: her old friend, waiting in the lobby with her favorite Malt Bakery cookies.
Aurora squeals and snatches the box. "You finally did something useful, I guess."
He smiles, silent but glowing.
They spend hours sharing stories, teasing, remembering old adventures — the mischievous ones, the dangerous ones. And the ones they never thought they'd tell again.
"Are you… dating someone ?" he asks, half-serious.
Aurora blushes, then shakes her head. "No… not at all."
"How's Charlestown?"
"Lonely. After I left for Boston and you ended up in Norwich… I guess I didn't expect the silence to be this loud."
He doesn't speak, but his look says it all. He missed her too… more than he lets on.
Finally, he checks his watch. "I've got to leave."
They say goodbye quietly. It's not heavy — more like a promise to see each other again, and soon.
Aurora sits back on the couch, box of cookies beside her, the warm memory of his hug lingering. She hasn't felt this at ease in months.
But the peace doesn't last long. A cold thought pierces her mind — Dio hasn't messaged since the date.
She picks up her phone and dials.
He answers on the first ring.
"Aurora?" His voice is gentle.
"Is everything fine?" she asks, trying to keep her tone steady. Despite the danger surrounding Dio, she carries a sliver of concern.
"Everything is good," Dio says quickly. "But I have to deal with something urgent."
Before she can reply, he continues, voice lower now. "I just need a little time."
"I understand."
Just as she's about to hang up, a faint sound slips through — Dio, yelling at someone in the background.
"Find that damn brat!"