Page 52 of Before Dawn

“I wanted him to want me,” I whispered, the admission stinging like salt on an open wound. “But he never did, and that’s where I went wrong.”

Aurora sighed. “No,” she corrected gently. “It all went wrong when you thought you had to teach him how to love you. The right man won’t need lessons.”

I swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as a tear slipped down my cheek.

“For now, love yourself more than you could ever hate him,” she continued. “And I promise you, everything will be okay.”

Her words sat heavy in my chest, pressing against something I wasn’t ready to name.

The rest of the ride was quiet. The hum of the car, the distant glow of streetlights flickering past, the city still alive despite the ache settling in my bones—it all blurred together.

When we finally pulled into the driveway, the house was warm and lit up, golden light spilling through the windows. The scent of home hit me the moment I stepped inside—my mom’s perfume, hints of something baking, the subtle freshness of linen. It was familiar, safe. But right now, it only made the ache worse.

Mom and Dad were waiting in the living room. The moment she saw me, her expression softened, her concern barely masked beneath the warmth of her voice.

“Do you have everything you need?” she asked.

I forced a small, tired smile. “Anything I don’t have, I can buy later.”

“We’re getting ready to eat soon,” she offered gently, an unspoken invitation.

“I’m not hungry.”

I turned toward the stairs, and as I walked away, I heard her whisper to Aurora, “What happened?”

“She just needs some time, Mom.”

“I’m going to see what’s up.” Mom’s footsteps followed, her worry evident in every step.

Aurora stopped her before she could climb. “Mom, let her have tonight. She needs space.”

I paused on the stairs, my fingers curling into the wooden railing, feeling both gratitude and sadness.

Finally, in the quiet of my old bedroom, I let out a slow, shaky breath and collapsed onto the bed. The mattress was familiar, and the blankets still smelled faintly of home, but everything inside me felt foreign, like I was drifting somewhere in between the past and the unknown.

Just as I shut my eyes, my phone buzzed.

I almost ignored it. I should have. I was too tired to deal with anything else, too emotionally drained to open myself up to more.

But when I glanced at the screen, my breath caught.

Mikkel.

I hesitated. My fingers had tingled as I unlocked the phone, my pulse had picked up even though I had told myself it shouldn’t have.

Despite everything—the exhaustion, the heartache, the weight of the past—I felt warmth bloom in my chest. And I hated how much I wanted to read whatever he had sent.

@mikkelsuarezofficial:Hey. I hope you had a good day.

Me:Hey.

@mikkelsuarezofficial:How are you?

Me:Good, I guess. How are you?

@mikkelsuarezofficial:What’s wrong?

Me:Long tiring day to say the least. Are you okay?

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