It started with laughter.
Real, unexpected, belly-deep laughter. The kind Aurora hadn't let herself feel in years.
Damien had insisted on taking Noah to the science museum for his weekly visit. Aurora went along, of course—this wasn't a handoff, it was still supervision. But somewhere between the planetarium and the space shuttle simulator, the walls began to drop.
Noah was buzzing with excitement, bouncing from one display to the next, pulling Damien's hand, explaining everything like he was the expert tour guide.
"And this is where they trained the astronauts," he said, standing in front of a replica space capsule. "But it's too small for my robot cat. He gets space-claustrophobia."
Damien chuckled. "Is that an official diagnosis?"
"Noah-verified," Aurora added, hiding her grin.
Damien looked at her then—not just a glance, but a real, lingering look.
And she felt it.
The tug. The heat. The memory of a night that changed everything. A touch she had tried to forget but never truly could.
By the time they left the museum, Noah was fast asleep in the back seat of Aurora's car, clutching a souvenir astronaut plushie.
Aurora drove while Damien rode shotgun, unusually quiet.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable. But it was charged.
When she parked in front of her building, neither moved immediately.
"He's incredible," Damien said softly, watching his son in the rearview mirror. "You did that. You made something… perfect."
Her throat tightened. "Not perfect. Just loved."
"I don't know how you did it. Alone."
She turned to him. "I didn't have a choice."
"You did," he said. "You chose him."
They stared at each other. Close. Too close. And the space between them felt thinner than it should have.
"He asked about you," Aurora whispered. "A few days ago. Asked why he didn't have a daddy like the other kids."
Damien exhaled, like the words hit him square in the chest. "And what did you say?"
"That he does," she said. "That he just didn't know you yet."
Damien turned to face her fully. "Do you know me, Aurora?"
She looked away. "I knew one version of you."
"And now?"
"I don't know."
A beat passed.
Then he said, "Let me show you who I am now."
It wasn't a pickup line. Not a game. Just raw honesty.
She swallowed, struggling to steady her voice. "Damien…"
He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm not asking you to forget the past. I'm asking for a chance to be more than your mistake."
Their eyes met.
And the world held its breath.
Before she could answer, Noah stirred in the back seat, mumbling something in his sleep.
Reality snapped back.
Aurora blinked hard, hands tightening on the wheel. "I should get him inside."
Damien nodded, slowly pulling back. "Yeah. Of course."
She got out, lifted Noah gently, and carried him up the steps without looking back.
But as she shut the door behind her, her heart pounded in a rhythm she hadn't felt in years.
---
That night, she stood by the window long after Noah was asleep, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the city lights.
She'd made peace with being alone a long time ago. She'd made sacrifices. Let go of dreams. But Damien wasn't just back—he was different.
Less steel. More soul.
And the worst part?
She wanted to believe him.
---
Damien, across the city, stood in his office with the lights off, nursing a glass of scotch he hadn't touched.
His mind was a hurricane of thoughts. Aurora's smile. Noah's laugh. The moment in the car that nearly tipped them both over the edge.
He had spent years building a billion-dollar empire. Learning how to read people, manipulate negotiations, force results.
But now, all he wanted to do was earn something no amount of money could buy:
A second chance.