The Astors and the Kennedys had been spending summers together for decades. This year, like many before it, the families had gathered at the Kennedy compound in Hyannis Port. The ocean air carried the smell of salt and warm sand, and the large house buzzed with quiet laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft hum of old friendships. But this year felt… different. For three months, John F. Kennedy Jr. had lived with a mistake that followed him everywhere. And tonight, it was staying in the room right next to his. Aurora Astor. Dinner had been set outside on the terrace. Candlelight flickered against crystal glasses while the ocean rolled quietly in the distance. Aurora sat between her parents, the soft golden lights catching in her dark hair. Her posture was perfect as always—elegant, effortless. The pale silk dress she wore moved with the breeze, and the quiet confidence she carried seemed untouched by everything that had happened. Except John knew better. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her the entire evening. She hadn’t looked at him once. Not when he arrived. Not when their families greeted each other. Not even when they sat barely ten feet apart at dinner. It was like he didn’t exist. And somehow that hurt more than if she had screamed at him. Across the table, Aurora laughed softly at something someone said. The sound made his chest tighten. God, he missed that laugh. He used to be the one who caused it. At one point she stood, excusing herself to get another drink. John’s eyes followed her instinctively. That was when he saw him. A tall guy standing near the railing greeted Aurora with a grin, pulling her into a friendly hug. They started talking easily, leaning against the wooden banister while the waves crashed softly below. John’s jaw tightened. He didn’t recognize him. But the way the man smiled at her… the way Aurora looked relaxed, comfortable… Something ugly twisted in his chest. Jealousy. It was ridiculous. He had no right to feel it. He had been the one who left her. Yet watching another man stand that close to her made his hands curl into fists beneath the table. Across the terrace, Caroline Kennedy noticed the direction of his stare. “John,” she said quietly. He didn’t respond. Her eyes followed his gaze to Aurora and the man beside her. Caroline sighed softly. “You made your choice.” Her words landed harder than he expected. Because for the first time in three months… John wasn’t sure he had. By the time the evening wound down, the house had grown quiet. Lights turned off one by one. Doors closed. The ocean outside became louder in the silence. John lay on top of the covers in his room, staring at the ceiling. The digital clock beside the bed read 9:57 PM. Sleep refused to come. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Aurora’s face from three months ago—tear-streaked, confused. “What did I do wrong, John?” The memory made his stomach twist. He pushed himself out of bed with a frustrated sigh and grabbed a light jacket before slipping quietly out of the room. A walk. Maybe the ocean air would clear his head. The hallway was dim as he stepped outside onto the gravel path that led down toward the beach. Cool wind brushed against his face. The waves rolled slowly in the moonlight. For a moment, the quiet almost worked. Then he saw a familiar figure walking along the shoreline. Aurora. She wore a loose white sweater over soft lounge shorts, her bare feet sinking slightly into the sand as she walked. Her hair moved gently in the wind. John stopped. His heart immediately began pounding. She hadn’t seen him yet. For a second he considered turning around. Maybe it would be easier. But his feet didn’t move. And then Aurora lifted her head. Her eyes met his. For the first time in three months. The air between them seemed to freeze. Neither of them spoke. The ocean crashed behind them as they stood a few feet apart under the pale moonlight. Up close, John could see the slight tension in her posture. She looked just as beautiful as she always had. But something in her eyes had changed. There was distance there now.