Doomed - Charles Leclerc

3

-Aurora-

The door clicked shut behind them, echoing in the dimly lit foyer. The soft glow of the hallway lights danced upon the walls, casting elongated shadows that seemed to stretch and retreat with each passing moment. Aurora's footsteps faltered as she stood in the threshold, taking in the familiarity of the place she was supposed to call home.

"Charles, I..." Her voice trailed off, the weight of uncertainty settling like an invisible shroud around her.

He turned to her, concern etched in the lines of his face. "Are you alright?"

Aurora hesitated, a swirl of conflicting emotions clouding her mind. "I just..." Her words lingered on the tip of her tongue, caught between the ache of confusion and the longing for clarity.

"We should eat something," Charles interjected gently, breaking the tension that hung in the air. "You must be starving."

The mention of food nudged Aurora's attention to her grumbling stomach. She nodded as she walked into the kitchen.

Their kitchen. Their huge kitchen.

Aurora watched as Charles moved about the kitchen with practiced ease, his movements a familiar dance amidst the unfamiliarity of her own emotions. She tried to piece together the fragments of their life together, the memories she should have possessed but were locked away in some elusive vault of her mind.

As he plated the dinner, setting it down on the table, Aurora's gaze drifted to the chair across from her, she did not want him to sit down. It felt... invasive.

Sitting down, she picked up the fork, her fingers hesitating above the food. The unspoken questions loomed large in her mind, weighing down each gesture, each glance exchanged in the confines of their home. She couldn't help but feel like a stranger in her own life, a trespasser in a story she couldn't quite recall. Charles watched her as he sat down, a blend of concern and restraint in his eyes. "You don't have to force it if you're not hungry."

The flicker of understanding in his words tugged at something within her, a fleeting connection she desperately sought to grasp. "I am hungry," she confessed softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... everything feels so..."

"Foreign?" he finished for her, his voice gentle yet laden with its own set of unspoken sentiments.

Aurora nodded, grateful for his understanding, even if she couldn't fully comprehend the depth of their shared history. "Yes."

They ate in a silence that spoke volumes, the clinking of cutlery against porcelain echoing the weight of their unspoken truths. As they finished the meal, the lingering taste of food couldn't overshadow the lingering uncertainty that hovered between them. Aurora pushed the plate away, her appetite vanquished by the turbulence of her thoughts.

"I need some air," she murmured, rising from the table and making her way towards the balcony that overlooked the city below.

Damn, they had a balcony. How rich were they?

Charles followed her quietly, giving her the space she needed while still remaining within reach.

The air outside was crisp, the city lights twinkling in the distance as Aurora leaned against the balcony railing, the cool breeze offering a fleeting solace from her confusing thoughts.

"You know," his voice cut through the quiet night, "I can't imagine how confusing this must be for you."

Aurora turned to face him, the pent-up frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "Confusing doesn't even begin to describe it," she retorted, her words laced with an edge she hadn't intended.

Charles took a step closer, concern etched in the furrow of his brow. "I understand you're struggling—"

"No, you don't understand," Aurora interrupted, her voice tinged with an unexpected fierceness. "You think this is just about lost memories, Charles? It's about... about waking up to a life I didn't choose."

He blinked, taken aback by the sudden intensity in her words. "Lora, I—" he began, but she cut him off once more, her voice cracking with emotion.

"I don't even like you," she spat out, the words a bitter truth she couldn't swallow. "How could we possibly be married?"

The silence that followed hung heavy in the air, each second an echo of her confession reverberating between them. Charles looked as if he'd been struck by her words, his gaze searching hers for a trace of understanding.

"I know," he murmured finally, his voice tinged with regret. "I wasn't... I wasn't the best version of myself back then. I made mistakes, said things I wish I could take back."

Aurora's eyes narrowed, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "You used to mock me, Charles. You always made fun of me."

His expression softened, a shadow of remorse clouding his features. "I was an idiot. I thought it was just harmless teasing, but I see now how much it hurt you."

"Hurt me?" Aurora scoffed, the memories of past ridicule stirring a long-buried resentment. "You have no idea."

Charles stepped closer, his voice quiet but determined. "I'm not proud of who I was then. But things changed, Lora. I changed. I grew up."

Her gaze remained fixed on him, a mix of skepticism and anger clouding her features. "How convenient for you that I don't remember any of it."

"I'm not asking for your forgiveness based on my words alone," Charles admitted, his eyes pleading for understanding. "But I'm asking for a chance to show you who I am now."

She shook her head, the weight of her frustration pressing down on her shoulders. "I don't even know who I am now, Charles."

He reached out tentatively, as if unsure whether his touch would be welcomed. "We'll figure it out together. I'll give you space, time... whatever you need. But please, give us a chance."

Her gaze softened slightly, torn between her resentment and the faint glimmer of hope he offered. She didn't respond, the whirlwind of conflicting emotions leaving her speechless. With a nod, Charles retreated, giving her the solitude she needed. The city lights shimmered below, a stark contrast to what she was feeling.

-

The weight of the conversation lingered in the air long after Charles retreated inside. With a deep sigh, she turned back towards the house, her steps tentative as she went inside. Dim lights led her through the hallways, each room a mystery waiting to be uncovered.

Charles had apparently disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the shower echoing through the hallway. Aurora took a deep breath, using this moment to explore the unfamiliar space. She wandered through the elegantly furnished rooms, her fingertips brushing against the polished surfaces as she navigated the maze of memories she couldn't access. Eventually, she stumbled upon the bedroom, the door slightly ajar. Pushing it open carefully, she peered inside. The room exuded an air of intimacy, the bed adorned with soft sheets and plush pillows. But it was the realization that struck her with a sudden surge of panic – there was just one bed.

Her heart pounded in her chest, the realization of having to share a bed with someone she barely knew, especially someone she held unresolved feelings towards, sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn't bear the thought of it. Rummaging through the closet in search of a solution, she found a spare blanket tucked away on a shelf. Clutching it tightly, she made her way to the living room, her steps quickened by the urgency to distance herself from the bedroom's discomforting truth. It was his house after all, she could not force him out of his own bedroom just because she was not ready to sleep next to him. She settled onto the couch which was surprisingly soft. She spread the blanket over herself, nestling into the cushions, exhaustion finally catching up with her.

As she lay there, the weight of the day's revelations pressed down on her, tiredness coming over her. The city outside hummed with life, the distant sounds of traffic and the occasional muffled conversation weaving into the fabric of the night. But within the confines of her uneasy rest, Aurora drifted between the realms of wakefulness and dreams, yearning for a clarity that seemed agonizingly out of reach.