intrepidity

Chapter 42

"Can I come back tomorrow night, daddy?"

"You'll be welcome every night, piccolo cavaliere."

The man paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder at the crib. Aurora was fast asleep, her tiny hand still clutching the edge of her bunny's ear.

"She's safe, bud," he murmured. "You did good."

And then they left — one tiny boy curled in the arms of a quiet, strong man who didn't smile often, but always softened when it mattered.

-

Aurora stood in the hallway of the Valenti estate, her fingers curled tightly in the sleeves of her oversized pink cardigan. The morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows, spilling warm gold over the marble floors and painting long, soft shadows. She shifted from foot to foot, her head slightly down, like she was trying to build up the courage to speak.

Roman was by the door, crouched to lace his boots, his movements calm and practiced. He hadn't noticed her yet. That gave her an extra second to gather herself.

She inched closer, footsteps light. When she stopped beside him, her voice came out barely above a whisper.

"...Can I... can I come with you?"

Roman glanced up, one brow lifting slightly in surprise. "To the store?"

She gave a small nod, not quite meeting his eyes. Her braid was already slipping loose over her shoulder, and her cardigan sleeves nearly swallowed her hands.

He didn't ask anything else. Just gave a quiet hum and jerked his chin toward the coat rack. "Get your shoes."

She blinked. Then, quickly, scurried off — and came back two minutes later with her boots half-zipped, coat buttoned unevenly, and a nervous flush warming her cheeks. She stood near the door, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her coat, unsure if she was too slow, too messy, too much.

Roman just opened the door like he was waiting the whole time.

The drive was quiet — but not uncomfortable. Aurora sat with her hands in her lap, watching the world blur past the window. She didn't try to make conversation. Roman didn't either. That was what she liked about him. He never forced her to fill silences that didn't need filling.

At the store, she followed him closely, her steps soft and careful. When they passed the toy section, she lingered — just a little.

She didn't touch anything. Her fingers stayed curled close to her body, tucked tight in her sleeves. But her gaze landed on a small box on the shelf.

A pastel princess makeup kit.

It was cheap plastic, but glittery and sparkly — with a little heart-shaped mirror and tiny tubes of lip gloss, plus a wand brush and a sheet of puffy stickers. Aurora stared for a second too long before quickly looking away, pretending she hadn't.

But Roman had already seen.

He paused, doubled back, and without a word, took the box off the shelf. He tucked it under his arm like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Aurora's eyes went wide. "W-What are you—?"

"You want it," he said simply.

Her cheeks flared with pink. "I-I wasn't going to ask. I don't really need it—"

"You didn't have to ask."

She wrung the sleeve of her sweater between her hands, gaze dropping to the floor. "But... you don't have to buy me things..."