loving you was a mistake

The soft chirping of birds filtered in through the open windows, blending with the scent of fresh sheets and the lingering warmth of the night before. Morning sunlight poured gently into the room, casting golden streaks over the king-sized bed.

Aurora stirred first, her body comfortably tangled in Mark's. His arm was wrapped around her waist, fingers splayed protectively across her stomach as if shielding her from the world even in sleep.

She tilted her head to look at him.

His features were peaceful in the light of day. For a moment, she allowed herself to forget the past few weeks of pain, tears, and harsh words. For this moment this soft, silent morning everything felt right again. She ran her fingers across his cheek lightly. He stirred.

"Hey," he said, voice hoarse from sleep. Morning," she whispered.Mark smiled faintly, brushing her forehead with a kiss. "How do you feel?" Better," she replied honestly. "Lighter… and guilty. I said things yesterday I can't even believe I let slip out of my mouth."

Mark shifted onto his side, propping his head with one arm. "We both did."

Aurora blinked back a tear. "I hurt you."

You were hurting too," he said softly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "But last night reminded me of something…"

"What?"

He leaned closer. "That I still love you. Fiercely. Desperately. Unconditionally."

Her heart flipped. "I love you too, Mark." He kissed her again slow, sweet, and soft like the promise of a new beginning.

The mansion was quiet when Aurora returned. She slammed the door behind her, ignoring Richard's polite greeting. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she made a beeline for the elevator. When she walked into the master bedroom, Mark was already there, undoing his tie.

"Hey," he said, smiling. "How was work?"

She dropped her purse on the couch and kicked off her shoes without answering. Then, with her back turned to him, she muttered, "Do you really care?" Mark's brow creased. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Aurora turned around sharply. Mark stood still. "I was trying to have a normal evening, Aurora. "Oh, normal?" She let out a sharp laugh. "That's rich coming from you. Nothing about our life is normal. Three years of marriage and you still treat certain parts of me like they don't exist. I tell you I'm tired, you act like I'm exaggerating. I come home, you ask about my day like we're in some fluffy romcom!"

Mark clenched his jaw. "Okay. Where's this coming from?"Aurora looked away, crossing her arms. "I want us to visit your grandfather."

Mark's face changed instantly. "Jackson Wilson?"

"Yes," she said. "I know you don't like him—"

"I don't hate him," Mark cut in. "But I have every reason not to see him. That man turned his back on me and my mother. He only looked my way when I became successful. I'm not some trophy grandson."

Aurora stepped closer, voice softening. "Maybe… but maybe he regrets it." Mark scoffed, stepping back. "That man is made of concrete and pride. "But he's getting older. What if… what if seeing him helps you both heal? And maybe, just maybe, I need that peaceful ranch more than you know. We both need it."

Mark stared at her, and for a long moment, said nothing.Then he sighed. "Fine. We'll go."

**** On the Road to Washington****

The journey was long, the mood in the car tense but quiet. Mark drove in silence while Aurora dozed in and out, her head resting against the window. Their convoy two security SUVs flanking theirs moved swiftly along the winding back roads as they approached the outskirts of Washington.

The land changed as they neared the ranch. Wide fields stretched out like a canvas, golden and green, with red barns in the distance and the shadow of the Blue Mountains rolling across the horizon.

When the old wooden sign came into view "Wilson Acres" Aurora felt a strange mix of peace and nerves.

"Wow," she whispered. "It's even more beautiful than I imagined." Mark said nothing, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel.

They passed the main paddocks, where horses grazed lazily in the sunset glow. When the car finally pulled into the graveled driveway, an older man was already waiting on the porch, cane in hand, back still straight like a soldier.

"Jackson Wilson," Mark muttered under his breath.Aurora placed a hand on his arm. "Let's do this together." They stepped out of the car. Jackson's gaze locked with Mark's, unreadable, unwavering. Then his eyes shifted to Aurora.

"You must be her," the old man said.

Aurora smiled gently. "Aurora. It's lovely to meet you, sir." He didn't smile. Just nodded. "Come on in. Supper's on the table." Mark looked like he was swallowing nails as he followed them inside.

The interior of the ranch house was filled with rustic charm aged wooden beams, pictures of war horses and rodeos, and a thick air of memories. As Jackson poured them each a drink, Aurora sat at the long dining table, heart racing.

"You've got a strong woman there," Jackson said to Mark, surprising them both. Mark narrowed his eyes. "I know."Jackson nodded again, slower this time. "Maybe stronger than you ever were, boy."

Aurora's hand found Mark's beneath the table, squeezing it gently.