Part 30
Alex's POV
She could hear him breathing on the other side of the door.
Even through the thick wood, she could tell when his heartbeat changed — faster, uneven.
Fear always had a rhythm.
And she had learned to read his perfectly.
He didn't open the door, but that was fine.
She hadn't expected him to.
Healing took time, and she was patient.
After all, she'd already waited three months for him to wake up in that hospital bed.
She could wait longer.
Aura knelt down and placed the sunflower gently on the floor.
The petals brushed against her fingertips — soft, almost trembling, like him.
He didn't understand yet that fear wasn't the enemy.
Fear meant connection.
Fear meant he felt her presence, even when he tried to shut her out.
In truth, that was what she wanted most — to be felt.
She remembered the day she first saw him, years ago, before the fame.
He'd been smiling on stage, the light catching his hair, eyes bright with that fragile confidence only the adored could carry.
Everyone wanted him.
But none of them truly saw him.
They saw the performance, not the person who came undone afterward.
Aura had watched the cracks forming long before the others did.
Before the headlines, before Ethan, before the accident.
She'd seen the loneliness behind the camera flashes — the quiet that followed the applause.
When she whispered You're supposed to be safe, it hadn't been a lie.
It had been a vow.
Now, standing outside his apartment door, she pressed her palm to the wood.
"You don't have to hide from me," she whispered.
"You just have to let me help you."
Her reflection in the hallway mirror looked almost normal — calm, polite, trustworthy.
That was the beauty of masks: people believed what they needed to.
And Adrian needed someone steady, someone who wouldn't leave.
If he was frightened, it only meant she had to stay closer.
To prove that she wasn't the threat he imagined — even if she had to remove everything that made him feel unsafe.
As she turned to leave, she glanced back at the door one last time.
You'll understand soon, she thought. You'll see this isn't fear. It's love learning how to breathe.
Then she disappeared down the corridor, her footsteps fading softly, the scent of flowers blooming in her wake.