?Chapter 1084:


    Silence stretched between them.


    Dunn exhaled slowly, the weight in his chest pressing harder than it had the day he first asked Rickey to look after Aurora in his absence.


    If he had known that request would lead them here—to this tangled ce where past and present blurred—he might have made a different choice.


    “Aurora, please thank him for me. For taking care of you when I wasn’t there.”


    And the moment those words left his lips, he felt it—that slow, creeping sensation of losing her.


    The past was something he could never rewrite. And it was precisely that past that gave Rickey his unwavering confidence.


    “Dunn, there’s one thing I know for certain—I love you.” Aurora pushed the window open, letting the cool night air brush against her skin as she gazed at the sea of stars. “So don’t overthink it. Just wait for me toe back, okay?”


    Before Dunn could even form a response, Aurora’s attention was drawn to a timid-looking girl hovering outside the house, her eyes darting about nervously.


    Her gaze then fixated on Rickey’s room. After a while, their eyes met, and the girl flinched as if caught in a misstep and turned to leave.


    “Aurora, I get it now. I was overthinking things. I’m sorry.”


    Dunn’s voice carried a tinge of guilt. Aurora didn’t linger on the girl; there were more pressing concerns at hand.


    “It’s fine.”


    “I’ll wait for you toe back,” he said.


    “Okay.”


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    Aurora had stayed here for four days now, yet Rickey’s condition remained unchanged. Each time the doctor visited, she stood silently beside Rickey’s father, listening with unwavering attention.


    The doctor advised moving Rickey to a hospital for proper care, but at the mere mention of the word “hospital,” Rickey tensed—his entire body stiffening as if he were bracing for an invisible blow.


    Rickey’s father sighed, his voice weighed down by years of sorrow. “His mother passed away in a hospital. He’s never been able to set foot in one since.”


    Aurora had known Rickey for years—of course, she knew that.


    After the doctor left, Rickey’s father turned to his son and let out another sigh, one heavy with resignation. He knew how stubborn Rickey could be.


    With quiet hope, he turned to Aurora. “Aurora, could you try talking to him?”


    Aurora didn’t want to add to his worries. “I’ll do my best.”


    “Alright. I’ll go cook. You two talk.”


    As Rickey’s father stepped out, Aurora poured a ss of water, her tone patient as she tried to reason with him.


    “Your dad’s worried sick. If you won’t do it for yourself, at least do it for him. If anything happened to you, it would break him.”


    She offered him the ss, but instead of taking it, Rickey reached for her wrist, his grip firm despite his weakened state.


    “Don’t leave. If you stay, I’ll go to the hospital.”


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