HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 400

**Shadows of the Past – By Emma Clarke**

**Chapter 1**

**Silence**

**Aurora’s POV**

The belt lashes against my back once more, a stinging reminder of my place in this world.

I fight against the tears that threaten to spill over, clenching my jaw to keep them at bay.

Crying only makes it worse. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.

So, I focus on the cracks in the kitchen floor, tracing their paths with my eyes, waiting for the storm to pass.

“You worthless little brat,” my mother hurls at me, her voice dripping with disdain.

“Always late. Always slow. Is it really that difficult to put some damn breakfast on the table?”

Her boyfriend chimes in, “We come down expecting breakfast to be ready.”

I can’t even remember which one he is this time.

Finally, when they feel they’ve unleashed enough fury, they stumble out, tripping over their own feet in their haste to escape.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips.

I pull my hoodie over my head, the fabric old and frayed, two sizes too big. But it conceals the bruises, and that’s all that matters to me.

As I step outside, the sun is already climbing high in the sky. The warmth envelops me, but I still shiver—not from the chill, but from everything else that weighs down on my heart.

School is just as much a prison as home, if not worse.

As soon as I enter the hallway, her voice cuts through the air like a knife.

“Well, well. Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

Tiffany. Beautiful. Flawless. Ruthless.

Her lips curl into a smirk as she surveys me from head to toe, taking in every detail. I lower my gaze, willing my feet to keep moving. Just keep walking.

Behind her are her entourage—Mia, Bree, and Summer. All as plastic as the smiles they wear.

“Are you still wearing that pathetic excuse for a hoodie?” Bree sneers, her tone dripping with mockery. “Do you even own real clothes?”

“Do you even shower?” Mia adds, her voice laced with scorn.

My books are knocked from my hands, scattering across the floor. My heart plummets as I drop to my knees, desperately gathering the papers, my fingers trembling.

Please don’t touch the drawing. Please don’t—

Tiffany snatches it up before I can reach it.

“What the hell is this?” she scoffs, holding it up as if it’s nothing but trash.

I reach out, my eyes pleading, “Tiff… Please… just give it back,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

With a cruel grin, she crumples the paper and tosses it into the garbage, like it’s nothing of value.

“Creepy. Just like you. And don’t call me that. Only my friends can call me Tiff.”

Flicking her hair back, she struts away, her minions trailing behind her like obedient shadows. I glance at the trash, a heaviness settling in my chest. Should I even bother to retrieve it?

With a resigned sigh, I gather my remaining papers and books, hugging them tightly against my chest.

**[Flashback – Two Years Ago]**

“Your hair looks like gold in the sunlight,” I tell her, my voice filled with admiration.

Tiffany giggles, collapsing onto the grass beside me, carefree and radiant.

“You’re such a poet, Rory,” she says, linking her pinky with mine. “Promise we’ll be best friends forever?”

I smile so wide it hurts, a warmth blooming in my chest.

“Forever,” I whisper, sealing the promise.

But forever crumbles in seventh grade.

She stops talking to me, stops smiling.

Her parents whisper about me, calling me dirty.

Then she starts laughing with the popular girls, laughing at me.

**[Now]**

I slip into the back of the classroom, unnoticed—or perhaps they just choose to ignore my presence.

That’s fine. I’ve grown accustomed to it.

I settle near the window, my sketchpad resting in my lap. Drawing is the only thing that feels real anymore, a fleeting escape from the chaos around me.

The intercom crackles to life.

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