UNVEILING AURORA

LIKE I MATTERED

AURORA’S POV

I didn’t go straight home after school.

I couldn’t.

The walls of my house weren’t safe—they only trapped me with my own thoughts, my own reflection, my own failures.

And I couldn’t deal with that right now.

So instead, I walked.

It didn’t matter where. I just needed to move, to escape, to breathe.

The autumn wind bit at my skin, sharp against the dried tear tracks on my cheeks.

I had made it halfway across town before I even realized where my feet were leading me.

The small coffee shop near the park.

A place where no one from school ever went—where no one knew me.

I pushed open the door, the scent of cinnamon and espresso wrapping around me like a blanket.

The warmth inside contrasted sharply with the chill in my bones, but it didn’t quite reach deep enough to thaw me.

I slid into the corner booth, keeping my head down as I pulled out my notebook.

Writing had always been my escape.

It was easier to live in a world of ink and paper than the one I actually existed in.

A world where I could be someone.

Someone stronger.

Someone who didn’t get laughed at in hallways.

Someone who wasn’t me.

I tapped my pen against the page, staring at the blank lines.

Nothing came.

Not even a single word.

Instead, Damien’s voice replayed in my head.

The laughter.

The whispers.

The way he acted like I didn’t even exist.

Like I was nothing.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and shoved my notebook away, leaning back against the seat.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe I really was nothing.

“Rough day?”

I flinched, snapping my gaze up.

A guy stood at my table, his hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket.

His dark hair was slightly messy, and his stormy gray eyes studied me with a quiet intensity that made my stomach twist.

I had never seen him before.

But there was something about him.

Something unsettling.

Something familiar.

“I—” My voice caught in my throat. I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

The guy didn’t look convinced.

“Didn’t ask if you were fine,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “I asked if you had a rough day.”

I frowned, thrown off by the way he looked at me.

Like he saw something no one else did.

Like I mattered.

“I don’t know you,” I said slowly.

His lips quirked up at the corner. “Not yet.”

I stiffened.

“Do you—do you go to Ridgeway High?” I asked, though I was certain I would’ve noticed him if he did.

“No.”

I waited for him to elaborate.

He didn’t.

Ominous.

I should’ve been creeped out.

And maybe I was.

But mostly, I was curious.

“Then how do you know me?” I asked, my voice quieter.

He was silent for a moment, his gaze unreadable.

Then, finally, he smiled.

“I’ve always known you, Aurora.”

A chill ran down my spine.

I didn’t know why.

But something told me this was the moment—the moment my life would never be the same.