Bound by shadows
643 Words
Aurora woke early the next morning to the sound of distant shouting. Not loud—but sharp and clipped, like people trying to argue without being heard.
She slipped out of bed, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, and opened the door.
Voices floated from the east wing study.
“…You’re too soft on him,” a man snapped—Mr. Moore.
“And you’re too obsessed with appearances,” came the cold reply—Grandfather Moore.
Aurora paused in the shadows of the hallway, unseen.
“He won’t last like this,” Mr. Moore continued. “The press wants visibility. If he keeps hiding behind books and chairs, we’ll lose what credibility we have.”
“He's not your puppet,” Augustus Moore’s voice sliced through the silence. “And this family doesn’t answer to tabloids.”
“She’s not fit for the role, either.”
A pause.
“You mean Aurora?” Augustus asked.
“She’s weak. No training, no polish. She was a desperate move.”
“She’s smarter than all of you realize,” the old man said. “And unlike the rest of this family, she hasn’t learned how to lie with a smile.”
Aurora’s heart pounded. She backed away quietly, retreating to her room before they could notice her.
Later that day, Aurora entered the garden and found Adrian already there, wheeling himself across the stone path. A small dog—a white terrier—trailed behind him, tail wagging with more confidence than any human in the house.
“I didn’t know we had a dog,” she said, surprised.
Adrian glanced down. “This is Jasper. He doesn’t care about titles, power, or legacy. That’s why he’s still allowed to roam freely.”
Aurora bent down, letting Jasper sniff her hand before licking her fingers. She smiled for the first time that day.
“Good taste in companions,” she said.
Adrian tilted his head. “Rough morning?”
She hesitated. “I heard your father speaking with your grandfather. About me. About you.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched slightly. “Let me guess. I’m an embarrassment. You’re a mistake.”
“Close,” she said. “But your grandfather defended us both.”
Adrian looked surprised.
Aurora sat beside him on a low bench, her voice soft. “Why do they hate you so much?”
“They don’t hate me,” he said flatly. “They hate that I survived.”
She turned to him slowly.
“There was a time I was everything they wanted—young, strong, promising. And then one accident later, I became... inconvenient.”
“Do you believe it was an accident?” she asked carefully.
Adrian looked away.
“I used to. But then the same uncle who swore he’d protect me suddenly became next in line for the inheritance. That’s when I learned—power doesn’t stay unchallenged in this family.”
Aurora absorbed every word.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and meant it.
He looked at her. “Why? You’re just as trapped here as I am.”
“Maybe,” she whispered. “But we don’t have to stay bound by their shadows.”
Adrian’s eyes lingered on her—on the girl who wore her silence like armor and her courage like fire.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Jasper barked once, as if reminding them they weren’t alone.
Adrian smirked faintly. “You know, for someone so gentle, you’ve got a strange habit of poking at all my open wounds.”
Aurora smiled. “You don’t bleed as easily as you think.”
He studied her.
Maybe she was a mistake to his parents. Maybe just a transaction.
But something about her was starting to feel real.
And real was dangerous…
Because it meant hope.
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End of Chapter Five
- Writer
