AURORA'S POV. 90.
I stood in front of the vanity, staring blankly at my reflection. My fingers gripped the edge of the table while the brush sat untouched beside the makeup.
I didn’t even know where to start.
My lips were dry. My eyes, swollen from earlier tears. My chest still ached from the words they threw at me—words meant to break, to shatter.
I reached for the foundation, but my hand trembled slightly.
“Pull yourself together,” I whispered to my reflection.
It was Luther’s birthday. And they were all watching—waiting for me to break again. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
I dragged the brush over my cheeks, covering the dullness. My hands moved faster now. Mechanical. Focused.
There was a knock.
I flinched.
But it wasn’t the kind of knock that waited—it was the kind t
