The laughter stopped the moment their eyes met.
Zyrell's smile faltered; frozen mid-laugh, like glass about to crack.
Beside him, her father turned with a half-lifted wine glass, his head tilting in disbelief. The chandelier above cast a golden light on his face, but nothing could warm the chill that spread through Aurora's chest.
She stood in the doorway, still gripping the cardboard box to her side.
For a split second, she wondered if this was another hallucination, like the ones that crept into her dreams behind cold cell bars.
But no. This was real.
The house.
The music.
The men who should never have gotten close are together in the same space.
A servant gasped softly behind the door.
"M-Miss... you're back?"
Aurora didn't answer.
She stepped forward slowly, one foot in front of the other, the box pressing against her hip with each step. Broken glass inside shifted, but she didn't look down. Her eyes were locked on two people who should never have been in the same room.
Whispers spread across the room like wildfire. Hushed voices. Stolen glances. Recognition. Disdain.
But she didn't hear them.
Not really.
What she heard was the ringing silence between her heartbeat and the sharp clink of her father setting down his wineglass.
"Aurora," he said, smiling nervously, taking a step toward her. "You're back."
She stopped. One foot from him.
He reached out, arms open to embrace her.
She stepped back.
Her face was calm, but her eyes...
Her eyes could have shattered the walls.
"Why is he here?" Aurora's voice cut through the living room. What's going on?"
Her father flinched. His back stiffened as he turned to face the guests. He forced a thin smile.
"Everyone," he said. "the party is over. You can go home now."
An awkward silence followed. Glasses were set down. Murmurs swept the room like waves.
One by one, guests slipped past Aurora, avoiding her gaze. Some offered her fleeting glances of disdain. Others looked away.
Within minutes, the room was empty.
Except for Zyrell.
He lingered near the wine cart, fingers tightening around the neck of a half-filled bottle. His mouth opened slightly, perhaps to speak.
But her father beat him to it.
"Zyrell, go home."
His voice was curt.
"Once everything calms down... you can come,"
Zyrell hesitated.
His eyes flickered to Aurora, searching.
She gave him nothing.
Not even a glance.
Zyrell's shoulder dropped. He walked past her.
Aurora didn't watch him go.
She walked to the center of the room with heavy, unhurried steps and set the box down.
She looked up slowly. Her voice was ice.
"Can you now tell me what's going on?" She asked. "Why were you with him? What exactly were you celebrating... while your daughter was rotting in prison?"
Her father stared at her, lips parting, brows creased.
"How many questions do you want me to answer?" he said quietly.
Aurora's jaw tightened.
"Start with the one that matters."
"You know," her father said, pouring himself another glass of wine. "it's been five years since we last talked face to face."
Aurora's head turned sharply, her voice low and seething.
"Oh, now you remember it's been five years?"
She took a step closer.
"No visit. No letters. You didn't even send a damn message. But you had time to party with the man who destroyed my life?
He scoffed and set the glass down hard on the table.
"He didn't ruin your life," he snapped, pointing a finger at her."You did. The moment you did what you did that night, you threw everything away. The future I planned for you. Your career. Your name. All of it."
Aurora laughed bitterly, blinking slowly. "You think I, did it?"
[Flashback – Five years ago}
She jolted awake.
Her breath hitched. Her throat burned.
Her hands, wet.
She looked down.
Blood.
Everywhere.
Her fingers gripped a kitchen knife stained with blood. Her nightgown was stained.
Then she turned...
And screamed.
A child, about three-four years, lay beside her, unmoving. Lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling. Blood pooled beneath her.
Her scream echoed just as the door burst open.
She knew then, her life was over.
Blue and red lights painted the walls in flickering chaos.
"Drop the weapon!" A cop yelled, gun drawn.
She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe.
The knife hit the floor, but it was too late.
Hands grabbed her. Cold metal snapped around her wrists. Her rights were read.
All the while, her mind was screaming, I didn't do this, I didn't.
But no one listened.
[End of Flashback]
Aurora's hands twitched at her sides.
"Aurora,"
Her father reached for her, hands clasping her shoulders as if he could physically anchor her in place.
His voice trembled, but his grips didn't.
"It doesn't matter whether I believe you're innocent or not. What matters is... you're back now. You can start over."
Aurora's eyes stayed locked on him, unreadable.
Then slowly, she lifted her hands and peeled his fingers off her shoulders.
"Dad," she said quietly. "I knew you didn't care about me. I knew that the day I was dragged away in handcuffs, and you never looked back."
She paused, her breath hitching.
"But even after everything... there was this tiny part of me that still hoped."
She let out a sharp, broken laugh.
"I thought, maybe you had a reason. Maybe you were being threatened. Or maybe... maybe you were dead."
His eyes widened. "Why would you wish me dead?"
Her gaze was steady. Cold.
"Because if you were dead, I could at least remember you as the man who always ha my back. The father who once called me his little girl,"
She took a step back. "But you're not dead. You're just... disappointing."
"I'm still your father," he said, voice rising. "And what you did; have you even thought about our family? About our reputation?"
Aurora tilted her head slowly, like she was trying to decide if he was serious.
"Reputation," she echoed with a deadpan smile. "Right. That's what matters most to you, isn't it? Not the truth. Not your daughter. Just your polished, spotless name."
She turned towards the door.
"Then maybe I would do you a favor and disappear," she said over her shoulder. "No scandal. No shame. Just me, on my own, like I've always been."
Without another glance, she opened the door and stepped out.
"Aurora!" her father called out.