“Different?”
“He’s trying,” I said softly. “He really is. I can see that he regrets what he did. He still loves your mum. He never remarried. He just—he misses you.”
Joshua’s jaw tightened again. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and his voice cracked low. “You don’t know what he’s like, Aurora.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I know you hate him, and I understand why. But I saw a side of him tonight that you haven’t in a long time. I just… didn’t know how to tell you.”
He closed his eyes, breathing hard through his nose. For a long moment, he didn’t move. And then, quieter: “You saw a side of him because he wanted you to.”
My throat stung. “Joshua—”
He looked up at me again, raw and deep. “You don’t understand what he took from me.”
“I do,” I whispered, tears burning behind my eyes. “I do, Josh. But I also saw what it took from him, too.”
That broke something. His expression faltered, torn between the part of him that wanted to stay mad and the part that wanted to believe me. He didn’t answer. Just turned away, hand gripping the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles went white. And I stood there, not knowing whether to step closer or give him space.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. My voice cracked halfway through it.
He didn’t answer.
I stared at the floor for a second, then tried again, quieter this time. “I really am. I wasn’t thinking.”
The silence pressed heavily between us. My throat felt tight. “I think… I’ll go to mine tonight,” I said finally, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I’m sorry again.”
I turned, slowly, already taking a step toward the door—
And then I felt his hand catch my wrist.
Before I could react, he pulled me back gently, until my back hit his chest and his arm slid around my waist. He dropped his chin on my shoulder, the warmth of his breath against my neck.
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”
“I know,” I said softly, staring at our hands where they rested against my stomach. “I know you didn’t mean to. I just… wanted to give you space. I really didn’t think, Joshua. I wasn’t thinking. I was dumb.”
His arm tightened. “Don’t say that,” he murmured. “You’re not dumb. You weren’t.”
“Then why—”
“I’m not angry with you,” he cut in, voice breaking a little. “I’m angry with him. That you had to see him. That he got to talk to you when I’ve spent years trying not to.”
I turned my head just enough to see him. His eyes looked tired. Not furious anymore. Just tired.
He pressed his forehead lightly against the side of my head. “I don’t want to take it out on you,” he whispered. “I just—seeing him with you made me feel sick. Like he was taking something again. I hate that I made you feel like you did something wrong.”
I exhaled shakily. “I just wanted to help,” I said.
“I know,” he murmured. “You always do.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. His hand slid up, fingers brushing over mine, his thumb tracing small circles on my wrist. Then, quieter: “Please don’t go.”
I turned a little more in his arms.
“Don’t leave me alone tonight,” he said. His voice was barely above a whisper now. “Please. I don’t want to sleep without you.”
Something in my chest broke.
I nodded slowly and reached up, placing my hand over the one he still had at my waist. “Okay,” I said softly. “I won’t.”
