His chest tightened.
Her words sliced deep, but he didn't back down. Instead, he let his gaze drop to the little girl who had been silent, watching, analyzing, as if she could sense the tension crackling in the air.
Tim inhaled sharply. "What's your name, sweetheart?" His voice softened, and he almost choked on his words.
For the first time, he felt nervous.
Aurora's heart stopped.
The little girl tilted her head. "Why should I tell you?"
Aurora swore under her breath.
"That's enough," she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. She pulled her daughter even closer. "We're leaving."
She turned, forcing her legs to move, forcing herself to disappear into the crowd before her heart completely betrayed her.
However, she only took three steps before Tim's firm, and an unyielding hand caught her wrist.
She gasped, spinning around.
His grip wasn't harsh, but it was impossible to break free from. His touch sent a wildfire of emotions surging through her, and for a split second, she was right back in the past—when his touch meant something else entirely.
She yanked her arm away as if burned. "Let me go, Tim."
He didn't. Not immediately.
Instead, he looked at her, really looked at her, as if to make sure she really stood before him, and he wasn't hallucinating due to how much he misses her. And for the first time since seeing him again, she saw it—
The devastation, the pain, and the sheer longing in his eyes. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.
Tim exhaled sharply and released her.
"I let you go once," he murmured, his voice low, rough. "I won't make that mistake again."
Aurora's breath was uneven, her heart still racing from the encounter. She gripped her daughter's hand tighter.
Taking a step, a familiar voice called out.
"Aurora, I got your coffee and the milkshake for—"
Liam.
Aurora's blood turned to ice. Not now! Why did he appear now? She almost cried due to anxiety.
Tim stiffened.
Liam came to an abrupt halt a few feet away, his eyes widening in shock at the sight before him. His gaze flickered from Aurora to the little girl, and then—finally—to Tim.
The air in the terminal turned suffocating.
Liam had two coffee cups in a tray and a small milkshake in his other hand, clearly meant for Aurora's daughter. But in that moment, none of that mattered.
Tim's entire body went rigid. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw ticking, his throat dry.
Liam.
Liam was here.
With her.
With them.
His stomach twisted violently, rage and betrayal surging through his veins like fire. His cousin. The man who had always stood between him and Aurora. The man who had looked at her like she was his entire world.
Tim's eyes darkened. His teeth clenched so hard that his jaw ached. He felt a weird emotion growing in him. Jealousy!
Aurora's own heart plummeted. She knew what this looked like.
Liam's presence here—his familiarity with her, with her daughter—it was enough to make Tim snap.
Liam recovered quickly. His expression hardened, his body shifting subtly, as if preparing for whatever he had to say.
"Tim," Liam said slowly, his voice guarded.
Tim exhaled sharply through his nose. "Liam."
Silence stretched between them, heavy, both staring at the other in disbelief with different thoughts running through their mind.
Tim let out a cold, humorless chuckle. "Of course."
Aurora tensed. She didn't want him to think that way.
Liam's fingers twitched around the coffee cups. His gaze flickered to the little girl standing beside Aurora.
Tim caught that.
And that was it.
Something in him broke.
His voice, when he spoke, was lethal. "How long?"
Aurora's breath hitched. "Tim—"
He pushed her voice behind his ear. He wasn't even looking at her anymore. He never plan to show her his displeased self anymore.
His piercing eyes were locked onto Liam.
"How long have you been playing father to my child?" Tim asked, voice deceptively calm.
Liam's expression flickered with something unreadable. He didn't answer.
And his silence was the worst answer of all.
Tim took a slow step forward.
Liam didn't back down.
Aurora stepped between them, panic rising. "Stop this. Both of you."
Tim didn't even look at her. His eyes were still locked onto Liam. "How long?" he demanded, his voice sharper now, cutting.
Aurora could see it happening—the storm building inside him, the same uncontrollable fury she had seen the night she had disappeared.
Liam, however, remained unreadable. Even if Tim was a head taller, he refused to take a step back.
Then, finally, he sighed.
"Five years," He didn't look away when he said it.
Tim swallowed, and clenched his fist. The airport became scanty since his team walked in but now, it was almost empty. He wondered how it would feel to hit Liam's jaw once more.
His voice came out quiet. Dangerous. "You knew."
Liam's jaw tightened. "I thought she was dead."
Tim's nostrils flared.
"But when I found out the truth," Liam continued, "it was her choice not to tell you."
Aurora felt her daughter flinch beside her. Her heart skipped a beat, because this wasn't a conversation her baby should be hearing.
Tim dragged a hand down his face, his body still shaking with restrained fury. He looked back at Aurora, his eyes burning into her.
"You let him raise my daughter?"
Aurora's stomach twisted painfully.
"I raised my daughter," she corrected sharply. "Liam was just there."
Tim exhaled a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. "I can't believe this."
Liam sighed. "Tim—"
Tim's patience had already snapped. His eyes, dark and full of rage, locked onto his cousin's. "You stole from me."
Liam's expression finally cracked, anger flickering across his face. "I stole from you?" His voice dropped. "You lost them, Tim."
Aurora's breath caught. Her hands trembled, praying they won't say more before her daughter.
Tim went still.
Liam took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Don't you dare act like a victim. You destroyed her. And if she hadn't run, she would have died."
Tim's chest rose and fell rapidly.
Aurora swallowed, stepping back slightly, her grip tightening around her daughter's small hand.
She had to get out of here.
This was spiraling into something she wasn't ready to deal with. Aurora's breath faltered.
Tim looked at Aurora, and something cut through his rage—the sight of his daughter. She flinched at the tension.
His stomach clenched.
His daughter was watching him, wide-eyed, and cautious. The weight of his anger had spilled over, and she had felt it.
Guilt hit him like a strong wave.
Slowly, Tim forced himself to exhale. He unclenched his fists, ran a hand through his hair, and then, without hesitation, he walked over to her, and knelt to her level.
The little girl stared at him, hesitant but didn't step back.
His throat felt tight as he met her eyes. The same eyes that stared back at him in the mirror every morning.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice hoarse. "For raising my voice. I didn't mean to scare you."
She studied him carefully, her small brows pulling together. She was reading him, the way Aurora used to. Searching for the truth in his words. That hurts even more.
The little girl remained silent for a while. "Do you mean what you said?" she finally parted her lips.
Tim rubbed her cheek tenderly with his thumb. "What do you mean?"
Her tiny fingers curled into her dress. "About being my father."
Tim's heart stopped.
She had said it so quietly, but it struck him harder than anything before.
He swallowed hard. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to scream it. To claim her, to tell her he would never let her go again.
His eyes flickered to Aurora.
She was stiff, unmoving, staring at him with unreadable eyes. There was something in them—something between fear and pain. She chanllanged him with her eyes to claim their daughter.
He couldn't answer. Not yet. Not with everything standing between them.
So instead of words, Tim did the only thing his heart demanded. He reached forward and gently pulled his daughter into his arms.
Her small frame stiffened for a moment.
Then, slowly, she relaxed against him.
Tim's chest ached. His eyes stung.
He held her softly, reverently, like she was the most fragile, precious thing in the world. His hand smoothed over her curls, memorizing the feeling of her.
The hug managed to fill some of the holes Aurora left in his heart.
Aurora turned away, pressing a hand against her lips.
She couldn't handle this.
When Tim finally pulled back, he looked at his daughter for a long moment, then, without another word, he stood.
His eyes met Aurora's one last time.
Then he turned—and walked away.