Chapter 3

Aurora POV

The next day at noon, my adopted parents, Richard and Eleanor, surprisingly returned.

I was delighted because their research assignments were demanding, and I rarely got to see them.

Eleanor embraced me the moment she walked in, her voice soft and full of emotion. "Aurora, your biological parents met with us early this morning."

It turned out that after learning I was willing to go home yesterday, my biological parents had flown specifically to their research institute this morning to meet them.

Richard patted my shoulder. "Aurora, Dad checked it out. Your biological parents are wonderful people, and they've been searching for you all these years. It's a good thing you found them, and we're happy for you too."

He paused, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. "We were so busy with work all these years and didn't take proper care of you. We always felt we let you down. Now that you can return to them, we're relieved."

My tears welled up.

My adopted parents had given me the best they could within their means.

Regardless, I was grateful.

"No matter where I am, you'll always be my parents. You took me from the orphanage and gave me a home."

They both smiled.

Eleanor wiped my tears. "Good, good. Come back and visit often when you have time."

Richard asked, "When are you leaving?"

"In two weeks."

"Who's leaving?" Mark walked in, habitually running his hand through my hair.

My heart tightened. Why was he home so early today?

Eleanor was about to speak, but I quickly interjected, "Nothing, we were just talking about a movie. The main character leaves in two weeks."

My adopted parents looked surprised and exchanged glances.

They clearly didn't understand why I wasn't telling Mark.

But they didn't say anything more.

Mark had only asked casually and didn't think much of it. He quickly sat down and started talking about other things with Richard.

I went back to my room.

I called for the butler. "Please sell all my jewelry and bags."

The butler nodded and soon had people come to collect and itemize everything.

I stood in my empty walk-in closet, lost in thought, when a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around me from behind.

"What are you thinking about?"

I instinctively pulled away, stepping back two paces. "You've been smoking again. It smells awful."

Mark didn't seem to care. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it nonchalantly, scanned the room, and his gaze finally settled on me.

"Why are you getting rid of all these things?"

I avoided his gaze. "I don't like them anymore."

Mark smirked. "Then buy new ones."

He exhaled a puff of smoke, his expression growing a little more serious.

"Fiona is coming over tonight. We're having dinner at home."

He reached out and lifted my chin, making me look him in the eye.

"Be a good girl, don't make a scene."

So, he had rushed home early today specifically to warn me.

The smoke made my eyes tear up, and I turned my head away, coughing violently.

Mark watched me silently, seemingly waiting for my response.

"Don't worry, I won't make a scene." I said, still coughing.

A faint smile finally appeared on Mark's face. He put out his cigarette, ruffled my hair, and then went to pour me a glass of water.

"Drink slowly. You cough like this from a little smoke. You'll have to get used to it."

Get used to it?

I took the glass but didn't reply.

There wouldn't be a "later."

Before dinner, Fiona arrived.

She lived up to her name. Tall, strikingly beautiful, clearly a socialite.

Fiona and my adopted parents obviously knew each other. After a few pleasantries, she locked her gaze on me, smiling sweetly. "This must be Aurora, right?"

I wasn't in the mood and gave a few perfunctory responses.

Mark came forward, saying softly with a smile, "Fiona, this is Aurora, my niece."

Ever since Mark and I got together, he never liked me calling him uncle, nor did he ever refer to me as his niece.

I hadn't expected him to change so quickly when faced with Fiona.

I pulled a faint smile.

Fiona, however, playfully pushed Mark, frowning. "You've been smoking again? It smells bad. You should quit."

Mark nodded. "Okay, I'll quit."

With that, he tossed the half-empty pack of cigarettes from his pocket into the trash can.

My hand, holding the water glass, froze.

Everything became clear with a comparison.

I had countless times asked Mark to quit smoking.

Because I thought smoking was bad for his lungs, and because I truly couldn't stand the smell of smoke.

But each time, Mark would look at me like I was an ignorant child, gently ruffling my hair, as if he was tolerating my immaturity.

Then he would still smoke, telling me to get used to it.

Yet, a casual remark from Fiona, and he smiled, threw away the cigarettes, and quit.

The result of the comparison was so stark, I had to admit it, however unwillingly.