Chapter 3
The next morning, I stood in front of the mirror, my face pale and puffy from crying all night. My eyes were red, and there was a heaviness in my chest that wouldn’t go away, but I stared at myself and whispered, “You’ve cried enough, Aurora.”
I had spent too long living for someone else—for Lucien, for his family, for the image of love I held onto like it was air. But today, I was done begging for someone to love me back. I didn’t need anyone’s permission to breathe anymore.
I took a shower, dressed up in something simple but sharp, tied my hair back, and called for a cab. If he could walk into my life with another woman on his arm like I never existed, then I could walk out of this nightmare with my head held high.
When I arrived at the Sullivan estate—the mansion I had once called home—the staff looked surprised to see me. But they didn’t say anything. Maybe they had already heard the gossip. Maybe they already knew everything. But I didn’t care.
Lucien wasn’t home. I was glad.
I walked up to the room that had once been mine and began packing. I didn’t want anything except the few personal things I owned—no gifts, no jewelry, no clothes he bought me. Those things meant nothing now.
I heard the sound of heels clicking behind me and turned to see Lucien’s mother standing in the doorway.
“Aurora,” she said softly, almost cautiously.
I looked at her without expression. “I’m just here to collect my things.”
She walked inside, her eyes scanning the half-empty room. “I didn’t know Lucien was bringing Carla back with him,” she said quietly. “No one told me anything.”
I gave a small nod. “It doesn’t matter now.”
She stepped closer. “You don’t have to leave, you know. This house is still your home. We still see you as family.”
Family. The word felt like a cruel joke.
“With all due respect,” I replied calmly, “I don’t belong here anymore. And I don’t want to stay where I’m only tolerated.”
She opened her mouth to speak but didn’t. Maybe she knew she couldn’t say anything to fix it.
I zipped up the last bag and stood. “Thank you for everything, truly. But it’s time I live a life that doesn’t revolve around Lucien.”
She watched me go without another word.
Outside, the wind was sharp and cool. I took one last look at the house where I had spent the loneliest three years of my life—and then I walked away.
I moved into a small apartment downtown. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. The space was quiet, plain, and peaceful—exactly what I needed.
The first few days were hard. I would wake up and still expect to hear Lucien’s voice, still expect a message from him, still feel like my chest was being torn open. But slowly, I stopped checking my phone. Slowly, I stopped thinking about what he might be doing or who he might be with.
Instead, I threw myself into work. I had put my career on hold for years because I believed I needed to be the perfect wife. Not anymore. I applied to every job opening I could find. I sharpened my resume. I even pulled out the old designs I once dreamed of turning into a fashion line.
And little by little, I started remembering who I used to be before Lucien made me forget.
I was strong.
I was talented.
I was worthy of love—not just from someone else, but from myself.
One evening, as I was replying to job offers on my laptop, I got a message.
It was from Lucien.
[Aurora, can we talk?]
I stared at the screen. My heart didn’t race this time. I didn’t feel the urge to cry.
Instead, I smiled faintly and turned the phone off.
Let him wait this time.
Because now, it was my turn to live.