Part 103
When Aura returns that afternoon, her voice carries through the hall — light, humming, a tune he used to sing on stage.
She's smiling when she sees him, grocery bags in hand, eyes warm and bright.
"Look," she says, setting them down on the counter. "Your favorite coffee beans. The strong kind."
Adrian watches her carefully. The rhythm of her steps, the looseness in her shoulders. She's relaxed.
She believes him.
He smiles back. It feels almost natural now.
"Thanks, Alex. You always remember."
Her whole face lights up at that — such a small compliment, but it feeds something deep inside her.
They drink coffee together at the small table by the window.
Outside, the sky's gone pale and gold, the light catching in her hair. It almost feels normal.
Almost.
But Adrian's phone — her phone, really — left unlocked earlier has burned an image into his mind:
his name.
Adrian — The Idol Who Vanished.
He's seen the news. The hashtags.
#FindAdrian, #ComeBackStar, #OurLightAdrian.
Thousands of posts, thousands of voices shouting into the void:
"No one can replace him."
"Please, Adrian, if you're out there, just say something."
It's both heartbreaking and terrifying.
The world still remembers him — maybe even more now that he's gone.
He stirs his coffee, careful not to let his hand shake.
Aura leans on her elbow, watching him with quiet affection. "You look better when you smile," she says softly.
He nods, murmuring, "Yeah. Maybe I finally found peace."
She sighs in contentment, reaching over to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
Her touch lingers — trusting, gentle, completely unguarded.
Inside, Adrian's heart pounds, but not from fear this time.
He knows the truth now.
The world hasn't forgotten him.
And Aura, blinded by the comfort she's built around them, won't see it coming when he finds his way back.
For the first time since all of this began, Adrian feels something.
Hope.