Part 32
Aura sat at her desk, three screens glowing in the dark.
Each showed a piece of his world: schedules, hotel lists, the endless noise of social media.
From the outside it looked like work.
To her, it was proof that he was still within reach.
She didn't think of it as trapping him.
Every door she closed, every call she rerouted, every false itinerary she planted — it was a way to keep the world's chaos out.
The world had already tried to take him once.
She wouldn't let it try again.
When she learned he'd planned to leave, she didn't feel anger.
Just a small, cold sadness.
He still didn't see that the walls she built weren't cages.
They were shields.
He needs time, she told herself. If I can hold the noise back long enough, he'll remember why he trusted me.
She opened her notebook and added a line under Contingencies:
Phase Two — make him feel safe again.
The phrase calmed her.
Safety was always the goal.
Love was just the language she used to describe it.
At dawn she closed the laptop and stared at the city outside her window.
From here, she could almost see his apartment.
A single square of light still burned behind the curtains.
He's awake, she thought.
Good. It means he still needs me.
She poured herself a cup of cold coffee, the reflection of that distant window trembling in the surface.
Somewhere between obsession and care, between guilt and devotion, she found a kind of peace.
Tomorrow, she whispered, I'll fix everything.