The sun had been spilling through the windows all morning, warm and golden, settling over everything like it belonged there. The sky outside was impossibly clear, the kind of blue that only seemed to exist on perfect Saturdays—the kind where the world felt paused, like nothing bad could touch it.

The house had been empty in a way it rarely was. Too quiet. Too still. No voices carrying through the halls, no doors opening and closing, no background noise of someone always being around. Just silence, stretched thin and comfortable.

Aurora had been sitting on his lap, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her through him, like she’d become part of the moment itself. Her hair had fallen loose over her shoulders, catching the sunlight, soft strands brushing against his cheek every time she moved. She’d leaned in without hesitation, like she’d been waiting for this exact second, and then her mouth had been on his.

It hadn’t been rushed. Not at first.

Slow, almost careful—like neither of them wanted to break whatever this was. But then it deepened, grew more certain. His hands had found her instinctively, steadying her, pulling her just a little closer as if that might somehow keep the moment from slipping away. Every kiss blurred into the next, each one lasting longer, like they were trying to make up for something neither of them could name.

Outside, somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. A car passed. Life went on.

Inside, it felt like time had stopped.

It had been perfect—too perfect, really. The kind of perfect that almost warned you it wouldn’t last.

And it didn’t.

The sound of the door opening had cut through everything, sharp and sudden. Footsteps. A voice, casual, unaware.

“Tadhg, do y’know—”

Ollie had stopped mid-sentence.

The words had just… dropped. Like they’d fallen straight out of his mouth and hit the floor.

Tadhg had frozen instantly, every muscle going rigid as reality crashed back in all at once. Aurora pulled back just as quickly, her breath uneven, her hair falling forward as she turned her face away. The warmth that had filled the room a second ago suddenly felt too bright, too exposed.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Ollie, still standing in the doorway, still holding it halfway open, blinked.

“Oh.”

It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

It carried anyway.

For a second, no one moved. No one spoke. The kind of silence that wasn’t comfortable anymore—thick and awkward and impossible to ignore.

Tadhg’s mind scrambled for something, anything, to say, but nothing came out. Every possible explanation felt useless before it even formed. Aurora shifted slightly, like she might stand, then didn’t, caught halfway between staying and leaving.

Ollie cleared his throat, glancing anywhere but at them.

“Right. Uh…”

Another pause.

“I’ll—yeah. I’ll just…”

He backed out of the room a little too quickly, the door still hanging open for a second longer before it clicked shut behind him.

The silence that followed was completely different now.

The kind that made everything feel louder—their breathing, the faint sounds outside, the way the moment had already started slipping through their fingers.

Perfect, just a minute ago.

Gone, just like that.