The Demon Alpha's Bride

Chapter Five

Chapter Five – Back to Normal?

Aurora spent the next week hiding from the world.

Her curtains stayed drawn most days, her room dim and quiet, as if she could keep the memory of that night locked out with the sunlight. She ate when her mother pressed food into her hands, but the taste never lingered. When she wasn’t staring at the ceiling, she flipped through books she didn’t absorb, or scrolled aimlessly through her phone, forcing herself to look at pictures of classmates laughing at cafés, parties, anywhere but where her mind kept dragging her: back to the ballroom, back to those burning golden eyes.

Her friend—her only connection to that night—visited often. At first, Aurora thought the visits would give her answers, but they only deepened her frustration.

“So who was he?” Aurora demanded on the third visit, hands clutching her blanket as if she could squeeze truth out of the fabric.

Her friend shifted uneasily on the edge of the bed, offering a smile too bright to be real. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

“Try me,” Aurora pressed, her heart thudding.

But every time, her friend would laugh it off, redirecting the conversation to lighter things—makeup, movies, gossip. Aurora wanted to scream. The secrecy felt cruel, but it was the only company she had, so she swallowed her questions and let the silence gnaw at her instead.

By the end of the week, Aurora couldn’t stand it anymore. The walls of her room felt like they were closing in, her thoughts looping endlessly in circles she couldn’t escape. She needed normalcy. She needed to breathe.

So she chose school.

The morning of her return, Aurora dressed carefully, forcing herself into jeans and a sweater as though ordinary clothes could armor her against what she’d seen. She braided her hair back, painted on the lightest touch of gloss, and told her reflection firmly, “You’re fine. You’re normal. Nothing happened.”

Her reflection didn’t quite believe her, but she ignored it.

The walk to school was painfully ordinary. The streets buzzed with chatter, cars honking, vendors calling out. Aurora clung to the noise, the chaos, anything to drown out the echo of that night. By the time the school gates loomed, she almost felt like herself again.

Almost.

Inside, the halls were alive with energy. Students bumped shoulders, laughter and chatter bouncing off the lockers. A few greeted her with cheerful waves, others barely noticed her return at all. Relief loosened something in her chest. No one looked at her like she was broken or haunted. To them, she was just Aurora.

Then she saw them—her friends.

Three familiar faces broke through the crowd, and Aurora’s lips curved in genuine relief.

“Look who finally crawled back to life!” teased Maren, the tallest of the trio, her dark curls bouncing as she pulled Aurora into a hug.

“You’ve been gone forever,” chimed in Elara, always the most soft-spoken, her wide eyes studying Aurora like she could read every secret in her bones.

Tessa was the last, leaning casually against the lockers, arms crossed. “A week, and no texts? We were starting to think you ditched us.”

Aurora laughed, though it came out shakier than she meant. “Sorry. Just… needed some time.”

They didn’t press. Instead, they welcomed her back into their orbit as though nothing had changed. They walked her to class, shared inside jokes, and slipped her candies under the desk when the teacher’s back was turned.

For a few hours, Aurora let herself believe she really was fine.

But beneath the laughter, she caught little things.

The way Elara’s gaze lingered too long, like she was checking for invisible wounds. The way Maren’s smile faltered when Aurora mentioned her sleepless nights. The way Tessa’s posture stiffened whenever someone brought up the mate ball, her eyes darkening as if with a memory she didn’t want to share.

Aurora noticed, but she pushed it aside. These were her friends. They were her safe place. Why would she doubt them?

By the time lunch came, she was laughing with them in the cafeteria, clutching a carton of juice like a lifeline. For the first time since that night, warmth bloomed in her chest.

See? she told herself firmly. You’re fine. You’re normal. Life goes on.

Her day passed like any other—notes scribbled, teachers droning, friends giggling in the back row. Nothing strange, nothing frightening.

But when the final bell rang and Aurora stepped out into the crisp afternoon, a shiver crawled down her spine. It was the same wind, the same sunlight, the same schoolyard she’d walked through a thousand times before… and yet it felt different.

She shook it off.

Normal, she reminded herself. This is normal.

As she walked away with her friends, she didn’t see the way they exchanged subtle glances behind her back, their eyes carrying secrets they couldn’t share.

She didn’t see how, when her laugh rang out, their expressions softened into something like guilt.

And she didn’t see the shadow that lingered at the edge of the school grounds, a presence that slipped away the moment she turned her head.

Aurora told herself she was safe.

But deep down, something whispered that this was only the calm before the storm.