Can You Be My Luna

Chapter 13 THE EYES THAT WATCHED ME

Vanessa didn’t hide it anymore. The way she watched me had changed.

I felt her eyes on me everywhere I went. In the kitchen. In the hallway. Even when my back was turned, I could feel it, like fingers brushing the nape of my neck. Sometimes, I would turn suddenly, heart racing, only to find her standing there, lips curved in a slow smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

It scared me more than her laughter ever had. My hair kept growing.

Every morning, it was longer, thicker and softer. Aunt Locia trimmed it once, shaking her head in quiet disbelief, but by the next day, it was already brushing my shoulders again.

Vanessa noticed it. One afternoon, as I was scrubbing the floor, she crouched beside me without warning. Her perfume filled the air—sweet and suffocating.

“Tell me,” she said lightly, “what’s your secret?”

I stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She reached out and ran her fingers through my hair before I could pull away. Her touch was gentle, but her nails dug in just enough to remind me she could hurt me if she wanted to.

“You were nothing when you came here,” she whispered. “Broken. Empty. And now look at you.”

I didn’t answer.

Her grip tightened, then released. She stood, smoothing her robe like nothing had happened. “Be careful, Silver,” she said softly. “Things that change too fast tend to draw attention.”

Then she walked away gracefully.

That night, I couldn’t sleep.The servants’ quarters were quiet, but my senses felt heightened, alert in a way I couldn’t explain. Every creak of the floorboards made my heart jump. When the moonlight spilt through the small window, I felt drawn to it, standing there longer than I meant to.

That was when I heard voices. Vanessa’s. She sounded angry. I pressed myself closer to the wall, careful not to make a sound.

“I don’t like it,” she said sharply. “She’s getting into your head.”

Lucas sighed. “You’re imagining things.”

“I am not,” Vanessa snapped. “You look at her differently. You speak to her differently.”

There was a pause.

“She’s still beneath me,” Lucas said flatly. “Don’t confuse control with affection.”

Vanessa laughed, but there was no humour in it. “Men always say that right before they lose everything.”

My breath caught. “I won’t let her replace me,” Vanessa continued, her voice dropping. “I don’t care what she is, where she came from. I will not be pushed aside for a servant girl.”

Lucas didn’t respond. But silence could be just as dangerous as words.

The next morning, things began to go missing.

Small things at first—soap, a ribbon Aunt Locia had given me, a piece of bread I’d saved for later. I thought I was misplacing them until I found the ribbon tucked beneath my mattress, cut clean in half. l wouldn't who would have been doing this?

Later that day, Aunt Locia pulled me aside, her face tight with concern.

“Has anyone been asking you questions?” she asked quietly.

I hesitated. “Vanessa.”

Her lips pressed together. “I thought so.”

“She doesn’t look at me the same anymore,” I whispered. “It’s like she’s waiting for something.”

Aunt Lucia squeezed my hand. “Then you must be careful. She is not the kind of woman who loses gracefully.”

Vanessa’s cruelty became deliberate. She spilt hot water near my feet “by accident.” She blamed broken dishes on me. She whispered lies into Lucas’s ear when she thought I wasn’t listening. And Lucas… Lucas didn’t defend me.

But he didn’t punish me either. That unsettled her.

One evening, as I passed the sitting room, I heard her voice rise again.

“You think I don’t see it?” she hissed. “You hesitate with her. You correct me for her.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Lucas replied coolly.

Vanessa laughed. “You’re protecting her.”

“That’s enough.”

“No,” she snapped. “It’s not. Because if you won’t deal with her—”

The rest was muffled as I hurried away, my heart pounding.

That night, I dreamed of running. Not away but toward something. Through trees. Through darkness. With the moon high above me, calling.

I woke up breathless, my body warm, my pulse racing. And I knew. Vanessa was planning something. Whatever it was, it felt close like a storm gathering just beyond the horizon.