Chapter 75 — Marcela's Curiosity
The next morning, sunlight spilled through the curtains of Dante's penthouse, warm and soft—the kind of morning glow Auri hadn't allowed herself to feel for weeks. She stretched on the bed, feeling unusually light. There were still shadows inside her, bruises that hadn't fully healed, but at least she could breathe without breaking.
Dante had left early for a meeting, kissing her forehead with a tenderness that almost made her cry. "I'll be home by noon. Don't overwork," he'd whispered before disappearing into the hallway with those long, purposeful strides.
Auri got ready for her meet-up with Marcela, slipping into jeans and a light sweater. Simple. Comfortable. Safe. She wasn't ready for glamorous yet.
Marcela was already waving from their usual café table, hair tied in a messy bun, oversized sunglasses dropping down her nose.
"AURI! God, you look alive today!" Marcela exclaimed, standing up just to pull her into a hug. "Did you sleep for twelve years? You look refreshed!"
Auri laughed softly. "Maybe… eight hours? That's a win for me."
Marcela plopped down, sipping her iced mocha. "So, tell me. How's your mysterious partner? The one you never talk about. What's his name again? Dante? You barely mention him."
Auri hesitated. She didn't do it on purpose—it wasn't like she didn't want to talk about Dante. He was just… complicated. Their grief. Their almost-baby. The distance. The pull. The intensity. None of it was something people casually understood.
"He's… good," Auri finally said with a small smile. "Busy. But good."
Marcela narrowed her eyes playfully. "Busy? As in lawyer-busy? Doctor-busy? Or, like, the 'I might secretly be a drug lord' kind of busy? Because you're being vague here."
Auri choked on her drink. "He's not a drug lord, Marcela—what the hell?"
Marcela shrugged. "Girl, I don't know! Some men have mysterious schedules. I once dated a guy who disappeared for three days because he said his 'pet turtle ran away.' Like—HOW FAST CAN A TURTLE RUN?"
Auri burst into laughter, the deep kind that shook her shoulders. It felt good. Strange, but good.
"Well," Auri said, wiping her eyes, "Dante's just… really busy with work. He travels a lot."
Marcela leaned forward with a grin. "Okay, but what kind of work? He sounds like a diplomat. Or a pilot. Or some James Bond type. Is he? Please tell me he wears a suit."
"Oh. He definitely wears suits," Auri answered before she could stop herself—images of Dante's strong shoulders, sharp jaw, and the way he filled a suit perfectly flashing in her mind.
"OHHHH." Marcela pointed at her. "I knew it. You're dating a corporate daddy."
Auri nearly spit out her drink again. "I'm dating—what?!"
"You heard me." Marcela crossed her arms triumphantly. "Corporate. Daddy. The kind who says things like 'I'll handle it' while typing aggressively on a laptop."
Auri tried to compose herself, but she was laughing too hard. "Marcela, stop. Oh my God."
Marcela winked. "Fine, fine. But you're hiding something juicy. I can feel it."
Auri looked down at her hands. "It's not like that. Dante and I… we're still figuring things out. We went through something… really heavy."
Marcela's expression softened instantly. "Hey… you don't have to explain. Really. I'm just happy you're smiling today."
Auri felt warmth spread through her chest. Marcela wasn't just funny—she was kind.
They spent hours walking through the park, sipping coffee, talking about everything and nothing. Marcela told ridiculous stories about her past dates, her overly dramatic cat, and her conspiracy theories about pigeons spying for the government.
Auri found herself laughing more than she had in weeks.
Marcela hooked her arm around Auri's as they walked. "I'm really glad we met, you know. You give off 'mysterious, pretty main character energy.' I saw you and thought, 'Yup, she's going through something tragic but powerful. I'd bet money on it.'"
Auri's breath hitched—but she managed a smile. "Yeah. Something like that."
"And," Marcela continued dramatically, "if your partner ever hurts you, don't worry. I know people. I can have him mysteriously trip down the stairs."
Auri snorted. "Marcela!"
"What? I'm tiny but violent."
They both laughed, and Auri realized she wasn't pretending anymore. She actually felt happy. She actually felt okay.
And for the first time, she thought:
Maybe I'm really going to recover.
Hours later, Auri returned home, humming softly as she placed her bag on the couch.
She froze.
Dante was there.
Sitting on the edge of their bed, hair slightly messy, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up—and looking at her like he'd just taken his first breath in weeks.
"Auri…" he whispered.
She barely had time to react before he pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly she felt his heartbeat against her cheek.
"I missed you," Dante murmured into her hair. His voice cracked, just slightly—something only she would notice. "You have no idea how much."
Auri hugged him back, burying her face in his chest. "I missed you too."
He cupped her face, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone with aching gentleness. "You look lighter today," he whispered. "Happier."
"I… I had a good day," she admitted softly. "Marcela and I hung out. She's funny. She's kind."
Dante smiled faintly. "I'm glad. You deserve more days like that."
Auri felt warmth flutter in her chest. "I'm trying."
"And you're doing incredible," Dante said, leaning his forehead against hers.
But then…
A fleeting image flickered across his mind.
Celestine.
The flight attendant's lips. Her perfume. Her eyes.
Her boldness.
A sharp tension hit his stomach, like guilt twisting his insides.
Damn it.
Auri didn't notice. She plopped onto the bed and started eagerly recounting the park stories Marcela had shared.
Dante listened—he really did. He watched her animated gestures, her softened smile, the way she seemed brighter. But beneath his calm expression, something burned. Something low. Something frustrated.
Celestine's face kept cutting through Auri's words.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He clenched his jaw.
Auri laughed at her own retelling. "—and then she said pigeons are government spies! Can you believe—Dante?"
He blinked, snapping back. "Hmm?"
"You spaced out," she teased gently.
Guilt slammed into his chest. Hard.
He forced a soft smile. "Just tired, amore. Keep going."
But his body betrayed him again—heat pooling low, muscles tightening, breath shortening. The tension he'd suppressed during the entire flight now throbbed painfully.
Auri's eyes sparkled as she talked, her hands moving animatedly, completely unaware of the storm tearing him apart inside.
He cursed himself silently.
Focus on her. On Auri.
Not that woman.
Not temptation.
Not desire.
But his body didn't listen.
He stared at Auri—at her honesty, her healing smile, the woman he loved—and shame washed over him like ice.
How could his mind wander?
How could he feel desire for someone else when Auri was right in front of him—fragile, recovering, trusting?
He swallowed hard.
Auri continued, unaware.
Dante's chest tightened painfully.
I'm a bastard, he thought. A goddamn bastard.
And as Auri laughed softly, Dante forced himself to breathe—forcing the guilt down, forcing the tension to still, forcing temptation to die.
He wasn't going to fail her.
Not again.
Not ever.