The silence in Alexander's room was deceiving. Outside, the night whispered peacefully over the city, but within these walls, a storm brewed in his chest.
He paced back and forth like a caged animal. The dim light of the bedside lamp cast long shadows across his chiseled face.
Veronica lay curled on the bed, finally asleep after hours of coaxing. He had stroked her hair, whispered soft reassurances, even swallowed his pride to comfort her.
But now…now, fury bubbled in his gut.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered under his breath. "She was never like this before."
"This new Aurora is really being a pain in the ass," he muttered
He stopped in front of the window, fists clenched at his sides. "The old Aurora… she was delicate, soft. Mine."
His voice was bitter. The new Aurora—acting like some cold-hearted warlord—wasn't the woman he had married.
That Aurora would never throw glares at Veronica, never scold him, never walk away like he was the burden.
He scoffed.
