He finds me before I get home.
Of course he does.
Daniel doesn't let things go that easily.
"Aurora, wait."
I stop—but I don't turn around immediately.
Because I already know what I'll see.
That look.
The one that makes me want to forgive him before I even understand what I'm forgiving.
"You heard part of it," he says carefully.
I turn then. "Enough."
"That's not fair."
I let out a quiet laugh. "Fair?"
Now I'm angry.
Not loud.
Not explosive.
The kind that sits under your skin and makes everything feel too clear.
"You don't get to decide what's fair when I don't even know what's real," I say.
"I was going to tell you."
"When?" I shoot back. "After she showed up again? After I found out on my own? Or after it stopped mattering?"
He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.
"It's complicated."
"No," I say quietly. "It's hidden."
That lands harder.
"I didn't want to drag you into it," he says.
"You already did."
Silence.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
I shake my head. "You don't lie to protect someone, Daniel. You lie to protect yourself."
His expression shifts.
Not anger.
Not denial.
Recognition.
And that somehow hurts more.
⸻
Later that night, I sit with my phone in my hand, staring at messages I haven't answered.
I thought this was simple.
Not easy.
But simple.
Now everything feels… unstable.
Like I've stepped into something that was already breaking before I arrived.
⸻
Across the city, Daniel stares at his phone.
A new message appears.
Unknown Number:
"You need to end this before she gets pulled into it. This is your last warning."
He reads it twice.
Then looks up—
like something has just become very, very real.