AI The door creaked open, revealing a sliver of warm light that cut through the dimly lit hallway. Aurora Carter stood there, her bright blue eyes widening in surprise as she recognised the figure on her doorstep. Lucien Moreau, impeccably dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, stood holding a small, worn suitcase. His heterochromatic eyes—one amber, one black—met hers, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.
"Lucien," Aurora breathed, her voice barely above a whisper . She stepped back, allowing him to enter. The scent of his cologne, a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely him, filled the small flat. "What are you doing here?"
Lucien stepped inside, his ivory-handled cane tapping lightly against the wooden floor. He glanced around the cramped space, taking in the stacks of books and scrolls that covered every surface. "I needed to see you, Rory," he said, his voice low and steady. "We have unfinished business."
Aurora closed the door behind him, her heart pounding in her chest. She remembered the last time they had seen each other, the hurt in his eyes when she had walked away. "Lucien, we said everything that needed to be said," she replied, her voice firm despite the turmoil inside her.
Lucien set his suitcase down and turned to face her. "Did we?" he asked, his gaze intense . "Because I don't remember leaving anything unsaid between us."
Aurora crossed her arms over her chest, her fingers brushing against the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist. She remembered the nights they had spent talking, the way his laughter had filled the room, the way his touch had made her feel alive. But she also remembered the pain, the betrayal, the way he had looked at her when she had told him she couldn't do this anymore.
"You left," she said, her voice barely above a whisper . "You left, and you didn't come back."
Lucien's expression softened, and he took a step closer to her. "I had to, Rory," he said, his voice gentle . "You know why I had to leave."
Aurora looked away, her eyes landing on the tabby cat, Ptolemy, who was watching them from his perch on the back of the couch. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knew she had to say. "It doesn't matter why you left, Lucien," she said, her voice steady . "What matters is that you did. And now you're here, and I don't know what to do with that."
Lucien reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. His touch was warm, familiar , and Aurora felt a shiver run down her spine . "I know you don't," he said softly . "But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere. Not until we've talked, not until we've figured this out."
Aurora closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. She knew she should pull away, knew she should tell him to leave, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Not yet. "We can't just pretend nothing happened, Lucien," she said, her voice barely above a whisper .
Lucien's hand dropped, and he took a step back. "I know," he said, his voice serious . "But we can't pretend nothing is happening now either. We can't ignore this, Rory. Not anymore."
Aurora looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the determination in his eyes. She knew he was right. They couldn't ignore this, couldn't pretend that nothing had changed. But she also knew that whatever they had, whatever they could have, it wouldn't be easy. There were too many hurt feelings, too many unspoken words, too much history between them.
"Fine," she said, her voice steady . "We'll talk. But not here. Not now. I have to work tonight."
Lucien nodded, his expression unreadable . "Where?" he asked, his voice low .
Aurora hesitated for a moment before answering. "Golden Empress," she said, her voice barely above a whisper . "I work there. I deliver food."
Lucien's eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded nonetheless. "I'll be there," he said, his voice firm . "We'll talk then."
Aurora watched as he picked up his suitcase and turned to leave. She knew she should feel relieved, should feel happy that he was gone , but all she felt was a sense of dread . She knew that whatever happened next, whatever they said to each other, it would change everything. And she wasn't sure she was ready for that.
But as the door clicked shut behind Lucien, Aurora knew she had no choice. She had to be ready. Because Lucien was back, and he wasn't going anywhere. And she had to face him, had to face the past, had to face the future. No matter what it cost her.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. She had a job to do, a life to live, and she couldn't let Lucien's sudden reappearance derail her. She grabbed her jacket and headed out the door, her mind racing with thoughts of what the night would bring.
The streets of East London were bustling with activity as Aurora made her way to the Golden Empress. The scent of spices and fried food filled the air, and the sound of laughter and chatter spilled out from the restaurants and bars that lined the streets. Aurora loved this part of the city, loved the energy, the life, the constant movement. It was a far cry from the quiet, orderly streets of Cardiff, where she had grown up.
As she walked, she thought about Lucien, about the way he had looked at her, the way he had touched her. She remembered the way he had made her feel , the way he had made her laugh, the way he had made her feel alive. But she also remembered the pain, the betrayal, the way he had looked at her when she had told him she couldn't do this anymore.
She pushed the thoughts away, focusing instead on the task at hand. She had a job to do, and she couldn't let her personal life get in the way of that. She arrived at the Golden Empress, the warm glow of the restaurant spilling out onto the street. She could see the familiar faces of the staff inside, could hear the clatter of dishes and the hum of conversation.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. She had to be strong, had to be focused, had to be ready for whatever Lucien had in store for her. She pushed open the door and stepped inside, the warmth of the restaurant enveloping her. She was home, and she was ready to face whatever came her way.
But as she made her way through the kitchen, grabbing her delivery bag and checking her orders, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of her stomach . She knew that Lucien was out there, somewhere, waiting for her. And she knew that whatever he had to say, whatever he wanted from her, it wouldn't be easy. But she was ready. She had to be.
She finished her preparations and headed out into the night, her mind focused on the task at hand. She had deliveries to make, customers to please, and a life to live. And she wasn't going to let Lucien Moreau derail any of that. Not tonight, not ever.
But as she made her way through the streets of East London, she couldn't shake the feeling that her life was about to change in ways she couldn't even begin to imagine. And she wasn't sure she was ready for that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
She pushed the thoughts away, focusing instead on the warmth of the night, the scent of the city, the sound of laughter and music that filled the air. She was alive, she was free, and she was ready for whatever came her way. And that was all that mattered.
But as she turned a corner, she saw him. Lucien, leaning against a lamppost, his eyes fixed on her. She felt her heart skip a beat, felt her breath catch in her throat. She knew she should turn away, should walk away, should leave him there. But she couldn't. She was rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to look away.
He pushed off from the lamppost and walked towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. She could see the determination in his gaze, the intensity , the unspoken promise of what was to come. And she knew, in that moment, that her life was about to change forever.
"Rory," he said, his voice low , his accent thick. "We need to talk."
She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew he was right. They needed to talk. They needed to face the past, to confront the hurt, to deal with the pain. But she wasn't sure she was ready for that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But as he reached out, his hand cupping her cheek, she knew she had no choice. She had to face him, had to face the past, had to face the future. No matter what it cost her.
"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible . "Let's talk."
And as he led her away, into the night, she knew that her life would never be the same again. And she wasn't sure she was ready for that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But she was ready to find out. Ready to face whatever came her way. Ready to face Lucien Moreau, and the past that bound them together. No matter what it cost her.