A Love Unseen

Between a Fall and a Catch

It had been a tiring day for Aurora Wynter, packed with activity from the moment she woke up at 7 a.m. She had been so active during the Wellesleys' anniversary party you'd think it was her own family's celebration. And after years of longing, her greatest dream had finally come true—starting tonight, she was officially Landon Wellesley’s fiancée.

You’d think such good news would come with a streak of good karma. But here she was, about to faceplant thanks to a sore ankle and a stubborn shoe. Absolutely terrific.

As she stumbled forward, all Aurora could wish for was an invisible injury. Anything else to escape the herbal sap her housekeeper always pulled out for every cut or bruise—a remedy that stung more than the wounds themselves.

Was she clumsy? Not exactly. She just had a knack for ending up in the wrong place at the right time—or was it the right place at the wrong time? Either way, sprains and light bruises were her unofficial companions. Tonight was no exception.

Or so she thought.

A firm grip suddenly stopped her fall, steadying her just before she kissed the pavement. Aurora exhaled in relief. "Good save, Elvis. And thank y—" she began, assuming her driver had rescued her. But the rest of the sentence got lodged in her throat when she finally looked up.

She froze.

Still regaining her footing, she swayed backward again—but her rescuer acted quickly, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. Her hands instinctively landed on his chest, and she found herself leaning against him, staring up in disbelief.

He was tall, with piercing black eyes that sparkled with amusement. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and a small black stud gleamed in his left ear. Dressed in baggy trousers and a matching jacket over a white t-shirt, topped off with spotless Nike Air Forces, he exuded an effortless, stylish cool.

"Didn’t know soon-to-be brides were so eager to fall off their feet today," he said with a teasing smirk.

Aurora’s cheeks flushed, but her eyes glistened instead of replying.

The driver, who had been observing from a respectful distance, coughed awkwardly before speaking. "Good evening, Mr. Blackwood. I'll take my leave now, Miss. Goodnight."

With a polite nod, he retreated, wisely avoiding the emotional storm brewing before him.

Ethan Blackwood—because of course it was him—scratched his neck, awkward but gentle as he helped steady Aurora on her feet. “Let’s get you comfortable, shall we?”

Aurora didn’t protest.

Ethan dropped to one knee and removed her heels with the kind of practiced ease that came from years of experience—he’d done this more often for her than he’d unlaced his own shoes. Aurora winced slightly as he gently massaged each foot, working out the kinks.

“Feeling better?” he asked, focused on her feet. Without waiting for an answer, he reached into a green shopping bag and pulled out a pair of white flip-flops, slipping them onto her feet with the same careful attention.

A surge of relief flooded Aurora. She sniffled, trying to regain composure.

Ethan looked up at her and smiled. “Better?”

Aurora nodded energetically, her lips curving into a grateful smile.

Then Ethan’s gaze dropped to the back of her feet, and he frowned. “You’ve got some nasty blisters. Don’t do this again.”

Without waiting, he pulled out two band-aids and gently applied them to each heel, clearly displeased by the sight.

Once done, he stood and gave her a crooked smile. “This is the part where you invite me in for tea or coffee. It’s tradition for the great Wynter family, isn’t it?”

Overwhelmed, Aurora looked up at his familiar face and burst into tears. Without hesitation, she flung her arms around him. “Senior, you’re finally back home!”

Ethan stiffened slightly, a dull ache tightening in his chest. But his arms moved instinctively, wrapping around her, holding her like he used to. For a long moment, the world faded away, the quiet breeze from the garden the only sound between them.

Aurora buried her face in his chest, and Ethan’s hand gently cradled the back of her head, fingers stroking her auburn hair. His other arm stayed firm around her waist, the warmth of his embrace both grounding and nostalgic.

Up until now, Aurora had thought she’d never experience his comforting presence again. But here she was—in his arms—on what was already the best day of her life. The cherry on a very delicious cake.

Eventually, the cold wind made her shiver. Ethan pulled back gently, noticing the lingering tears in her eyes. He wiped them away with his thumbs and gave her a warm smile.

“There, there. You’re all grown up now. No more crying,” he teased softly, placing his jacket over her shoulders.

Aurora pouted, though a small smile tugged at her lips. Her features were puffed from tears, eyes red-rimmed, but she still looked like a delicate porcelain doll—heartachingly endearing.

Noting the color and softness of the slippers he’d given her, Aurora blinked up at him. “You remember. Thank you, Senior,” she said, beaming like a spoiled kitten. “I owe you one.”

“I’ll collect on that debt someday,” Ethan replied with a wink.

Aurora laughed. “You’ve never failed to collect in the past. Just put it on my tab.”

Ethan chuckled and helped her toward the door, supporting her gently as she limped.

Just as they reached the entrance, the door opened to reveal Mrs. Jenkins, the elderly housekeeper.

She didn’t look thrilled by the sight in front of her.