Aurora

Aurora moves through the quiet house with deliberate grace, every careful fold of laundry or soft-spoken greeting weighted by the memory of the night she should never have seen. Her smile stays bright and obedient, yet her eyes linger too long on the man whose presence turns ordinary chores into unspoken offerings. Beneath the surface of her light voice and efficient hands lies a private ache, the longing to be claimed by him even if it means sharing the space beside the woman who already owns his nights.