The backyard smelled like grilled meat and summer, the kind of warm Sunday scent Aurora had missed while she was away. Two years didn’t feel long from the outside, but to everyone at the barbecue, she had left as one person and come back another. Mark heard her laugh before he saw her. He paused mid-conversation with her father, his head instinctively turning toward the sound. And there she was—carrying a bowl of salad from the kitchen, the sunlight catching in her hair, her features sharper than he remembered. Not the teenager he used to tease about her messy ponytails and mismatched socks. A woman. His stomach dropped—low, uncomfortable, almost guilty. Jesus… get a grip, he told himself. Aurora spotted him. Her face lit up instantly. “Mark?” she called, already walking toward him. He tried to steady his expression, aiming for casual. He wasn’t sure he succeeded. “Aurora?” he answered, and his voice came out lower than he intended. “Look at you. I barely recognized you.” She laughed softly, setting the bowl down on the table. “Two years abroad will do that.” “Yeah,” he murmured, eyes lingering a second too long. “It really will.” Her father walked off to grab more drinks, leaving them standing beside each other, the noise of the barbecue fading into a vague hum. She tilted her head, studying him. “You look exactly the same,” she said teasingly. “Just… maybe a little more tired.” He huffed a laugh. “Occupational hazard of being an adult for so long.” “And you’re still single?” she asked lightly. Flirty. Testing. He blinked, surprised by her boldness—but not displeased. “Still single,” he admitted. “Your dad keeps telling me it’s because I’m too picky.” “Or too busy?” “Maybe both.” His eyes flicked to hers. “What about you? Boyfriend?” She shook her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Nope.” Something in him tightened at the simple word. They stood close enough that he could smell her perfume—soft, clean, expensive in a subtle way. Aurora slowly swayed the toe of her sandal against the grass, watching him with an almost daring warmth in her gaze. “So,” she said, voice quiet but playful, “two years gone, and I come home to find you still haven’t found anyone who can put up with you?” He smirked despite himself. “Maybe I was waiting for someone interesting to come back.” Her eyes widened just a fraction—surprised, flattered—and then she smiled. Slow. Knowing. “Took you long enough,” she whispered. The air between them shifted—he felt it, deep and unsettling in his stomach again. Forbidden. Dangerous. Electric. Before he could say anything, shouts from the grill pulled them apart, someone calling Aurora to help with plates. She gave him one last glance over her shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief, before walking away. Mark exhaled, dragging a hand over his face. Two years ago, she was just the kid he’d watched grow up. Now… Now she was something else entirely. And he was in trouble.