I really didn’t want to be here.

Didn’t want to pull into that goddamn driveway. Didn’t want to walk up to that pristine white door. And I definitely didn’t want to watch the woman I once called my wife look you up and down like you were some kind of competition.

But unfortunately my ex wife’s my 7 year old daughter’s mum and Aurora deserved better than a quick exchange on the pavement. So here we are.

You sat there, silent in the passenger seat. Beautiful. Tense. Doing your best to hide it. You’d asked me earlier what she was like.

I hadn’t answered.

What could I have said? That she’s charm wrapped in ice? That she’s the kind of woman who can gut you with a smile?

“You’ll be alright,” I said under my breath as I turned into the circular drive.

Aurora was already undoing her seatbelt before the car had stopped. She was always excited to see her mum. That was okay. She didn’t know any better. She didn’t need to.

I got out, circled the car, let my hand brush your back—gentle, grounding. My attempt at reassurance. It wasn’t much, but it was what I had.

The front door swung open before we hit the steps.

Rora’s mum stood there, as put-together and frosty as ever. Her eyes went straight to you, bypassing me entirely. There was judgment in the way her lips curled.

“This the one?” she said, dry.

You stepped forward, all polite smiles and soft grace. “Hi, I’m—”

“She’s with me,” I cut in, too fast, too sharp. My hand lingered protectively at your back. “That’s all you need to know.”

She gave a fake little sigh and moved aside. “Go ahead.”

Rora darted in without a second thought. You paused, glancing up at me.

“She doesn’t seem that terrible…” you whispered.

“She’s just warming up,” I replied.

Inside, there was laughter. The click of heels. Voices bouncing off the walls.

I didn’t move.

Then you reached for my hand—light, calm. “Harry.”

I blew out a hard breath, jaw clenched tight.

“Let’s just get through it,” I said quietly. “And if she says anything out of line—you don’t respond. I will.”