?Chapter 1085:


    Aurora tried to pull away, but his hold didn’t waver. He was serious.


    “Rickey, we’re not children anymore. Can’t you be mature about this?”


    Rickey let out a bitterugh, his bloodshot eyes locking onto hers with raw intensity. “Oh, so maturity is what matters? Is that why you love him? If I were mature, would you love me too?”


    Aurora froze—not because his words swayed her, but because the boy she once knew felt like a stranger now. “All these years, I’ve always seen you as my best friend.”


    “I don’t want to be your friend!” His grip tightened, and the ss slipped from her hand, crashing onto the floor—shattering just like the care and concern Aurora had been offering him.


    “Aurora, do you think this is fair? All these years, it was me by your side. I was the one who took care of you. When others ignored you, when they bullied you, when they demanded you y the perfect older sister, I was the only one who let you be yourself. I let you be reckless, free, unguarded. And yet, because I was always here, you refuse to see me?”


    Aurora met his stormy gaze, heavy with defiance and longing. “Rickey, I’m sorry. In life, most things can be pursued with effort, but love doesn’t work that way.”


    Rickey clenched his jaw so tightly his whole body trembled. His eyes glistened, betrayal pooling in them like unshed tears.


    He refused to believe she could be this heartless. He refused to believe that the one time she did fight for something, it was to push him away. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you.” He clung to her hand as if letting go meant losing her forever. “All these years—how could you never have felt anything for me? How could you not love me? What does he have that I don’t? Aurora, I’m begging you. Just look at me. Not as a friend. Not as family. Look at me as a man—as someone who loves you. I beg you!”


    The word “beg” caught in Aurora’s chest, tightening her throat. She owed Rickey more than she could ever repay.


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    Gently, she ced her hands on his shoulders. “Stop moving, you’ll hurt yourself. Rickey, I’m not leaving right now. Focus on getting better first.”


    “If I get better, you’ll leave, won’t you?” The light in his eyes flickered, like a candle struggling against the wind.


    Aurora had no answer.


    She could tell him that goodbyes were inevitable, that nothingsts forever.


    Lynda once told her, “Nothingsts forever. People grow, and paths diverge.”


    But in the end, the oue would be the same. She was going to leave. She had her studies, her family, her future. And, most of all—Dunn was waiting for her.


    “When you’re better, we’ll talk again,” she simply said.


    Quietly, Aurora picked up the broken ss and stepped out of the room. Rickey stared nkly at the window, the weight of her absence pressing down on him.


    “I’m sorry.” Aurora had been turning the words over and over in her mind, and in the end, this was all she could give him.


    Later, after dinner, Aurora approached Rickey’s father. “I’d like to go out for a walk.”


    “Should I have someone apany you?”


    “No, thank you.” She needed the solitude.


    Rickey’s father hesitated before calling her name. “Aurora.”


    She turned. He looked utterly exhausted—his eyes bloodshot, his face unshaven, the weight of days spent worrying etched into his every feature.


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