They didn't speak again for two weeks.
Not a fight. Not a deliberate silence.
But a distance. Like a mist between mountains — not hostile, but heavy.
Aurélie threw herself into work. She curated an exhibition for an art gallery in Geneva and redesigned a private library for a duchess in Monaco. She surrounded herself with colors and lines, with things that could be shaped.
But no matter how she tried to fill her calendar, there was a constant echo in her chest.
Elio.
Meanwhile, Elio went to Madrid for a fragrance shoot. He smiled, performed, flirted. His face graced the front of Vogue España. To the world, he was thriving. Effortlessly golden.
But he didn't go out after hours. He turned down invitations. He deleted and retyped the same message to Aurélie six times a day.
And still didn't send it.
Lina, noticing his dull eyes beneath all the glamor, finally broke.
"You know you can't just wait forever, right?" she said as they reviewed photos in a studio loft.
"I'm not waiting," Elio replied quietly.
"Oh, please. You're practically breathing on hold."
Elio gave her a tired smile. "I think she needs time."
Lina narrowed her eyes. "And what about you?"
He shrugged. "I've lived with emptiness before. This version at least has her name on it."
---
Back in Paris, Aurélie stood in front of the mirror, staring at herself.
She was trying on a midnight-blue gown for the annual Winter Charity Ball — a mandatory event for someone in her family's social standing. She hadn't been planning to go, but her father's assistant had emailed her directly: "Your presence has been expected since September."
She sighed.
The gown fit perfectly, as everything always did.
And yet she had never felt more… not put together.
She thought of Elio. Of how easily he'd seen through her curated calm. Of how, somehow, in all the chaos, she had felt safer with him than in any of these high society halls.
Still, she went.
---
The ballroom was a palace of light — crystal chandeliers, golden stairs, polished silver. The kind of place where secrets wore diamonds and lies wore tailored suits.
Aurélie glided through the crowd, smiling when needed, nodding at the right names, answering questions with poise.
But her mind was elsewhere.
Then, as she turned from the drink table, she froze.
Because there he was.
Elio.
In a tailored black suit, collar open just slightly, hair styled but not stiff. And, of course, that same infuriating, effortless grace.
Her breath caught in her throat.
He hadn't told her he'd be attending.
Then again, this was Elio. The man who could charm his way into any room — or choose to remain just outside its reach.
He saw her.
And smiled.
A small one. Quiet. Like a question.
She didn't return it. Not yet. But she didn't look away either.
He walked toward her, steps unhurried.
When he reached her, he bowed his head slightly.
"Aurélie."
"Elio," she replied, voice calm, but not cold.
"You look like you belong to the stars tonight," he said.
"You look like you crashed into them," she replied smoothly.
He chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."
She glanced away. "What are you doing here?"
"My agency was invited. I didn't plan on coming. But then… I wondered if you'd be here."
She met his eyes. "You don't chase things, Elio."
"Not usually," he admitted. "But I find myself making exceptions lately."
Before she could respond, her father approached. A tall, refined man with silver at his temples and centuries in his gaze.
"Ah, Aurélie," he said. "And this must be the young man from the contract rumors."
Aurélie stiffened.
Elio smiled, extending his hand. "Elio Moretti, sir."
Her father shook it, firm but brief. "You seem more grounded than I expected."
"And you seem more amused than you should be," Elio replied politely.
A pause.
Then her father laughed. "Touché."
He turned to his daughter. "Don't let the guests assume too much, ma chérie. Appearances matter."
With that, he vanished into the crowd.
Elio looked at her. "So that's where you get your frost."
Aurélie exhaled. "Don't start."
"Not starting anything. Just... observing."
They stood in silence for a moment.
Then he offered his hand. "Would you dance?"
She hesitated.
Then, slowly, she placed her hand in his.
---
On the dance floor, under a canopy of gold and music, they moved together.
Not as actors.
Not as strangers.
But as two people orbiting the edge of something dangerous.
Something real.
As they danced, Elio leaned in slightly. "Tell me to go, and I will."
She didn't answer.
He added, softer, "Or tell me to stay, and I'll never leave."
Still, no answer.
Just her breath. Just her silence.
Finally, she whispered, "I'm not ready to trust this."
He nodded. "Then I'll wait. But only if you let me close enough to see the real you."
Her eyes met his.
And for a moment, just one, she lowered her walls.
"I don't know who the real me is anymore."
He held her tighter. "Then let's find her. Together."
---
Later that night, as the ballroom emptied and the glitter faded, they found themselves outside beneath the streetlamps.
The city was quiet. Snow had begun to fall.
"I never wanted this to be a game," Aurélie said suddenly.
"I know."
"I was protecting myself."
"And I was trying to break through."
She looked at him. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You already have," he said gently. "But that's not the worst thing someone can do."
"What is?"
"Pretending they feel nothing."
She lowered her gaze.
Then finally whispered, "I feel everything."
And just like that, something between them shifted.
Still no kiss.
Still no promises.
Just truth.
And maybe, for now, that was enough.