Aurora's Loneliness
212 Words
Aurora tried to fill her days with purpose. She spent hours designing the interior of the house, choosing every detail meticulously: the deep blue curtains that mimicked the ocean, the soft beige rugs that felt like walking on sand. But no matter how beautiful the space became, it still felt empty.
Evenings were the hardest. She would sit on the terrace with a glass of wine, watching the sun dip below the horizon. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional clink of Sebastian’s glass when he joined her. Their conversations were polite but distant, revolving around mundane topics like schedules and groceries. Gone were the passionate debates and playful banter that once defined their relationship.
One evening, as Aurora watched the sky turn from gold to crimson, she turned to Sebastian. “Do you ever think about what we left behind?” she asked, her voice soft but heavy with meaning.
Sebastian hesitated, swirling his whiskey. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But what’s the point of dwelling on it? We have to move forward.”
“Do we?” Aurora asked, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Sometimes I feel like we’re just running away.”
Sebastian didn’t respond, and the silence between them spoke louder than words.
- Writer
