Can You Be My Luna

Chapter 4 THE KINDNESS BETWEEN CRUELTIES

I didn’t remember how long I had stayed on the floor after they left. The laughter still echoed in my ears, sharp and cruel, as if the walls themselves were mocking me. My stomach twisted, not just from the cold, but from the weight of humiliation pressing down on my chest.

Slowly, I pushed myself up. My knees shook beneath me, my palms sore where they had scraped against the marble floor. I didn’t dare look back at the dining table, I couldn’t bear the sight of those empty chairs, the stage of my shame.

I walked toward the kitchen, each step heavy, my body moving as if through water.

The kitchen was quiet. The warm air smelled faintly of oil and something sweet. I clutched my ragged dress, twisting the fabric in my hands, trying to find some small comfort.

Then I heard soft movement, careful and steady. I froze, unsure whether to run or hide. My heart pounded in my chest.

And then I saw her. A middle-aged woman stood by the sink, her dark hair streaked with silver and pulled back neatly. Lines etched her face, not cruelty, but years of endurance and quiet patience. Her eyes softened when they met mine, widening just slightly, full of concern.

“Oh, child…” she murmured.

I flinched at the gentle sound of her voice. I wasn’t used to that.

“I—I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I’ll clean everything. I didn’t mean to”

She shook her head. “You don’t need to apologize to me.”

Her gaze flicked briefly toward the doorway, as if checking whether anyone else was listening, and then she lowered her voice. “You are Lucas’s wife, aren’t you?”

I nodded, my throat tight.

“My name is Locia,” she said softly. “Most call me Aunt Locia. I’ve worked in this house longer than I care to remember.”

Her tone was calm, kind, and steady. Something in her tone made the dam inside me break.

I couldn’t hold back anymore.

The tears came suddenly, violently. My shoulders shook as I covered my face, sobs tearing from my chest before I could stop them. I sank onto a nearby stool, folding into myself as if I could disappear completely.

“I tried,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I really tried. I didn’t know what else to do. I thought if I was quiet… if I did everything right…”

My words shattered into gasps.

Aunt Locia didn’t hesitate. She stepped closer and gently pulled me into her arms. The warmth of her embrace surprised me. I stiffened at first, I wasn’t used to comfort that didn’t come with pain, but then I clung to her, gripping her apron like it was a lifeline.

“Shhh,” she murmured, rubbing slow circles into my back. “Let it out, child. You’ve been holding too much inside.”

I cried harder. No one had ever told me it was okay to do that.

“I don’t belong here,” I whispered. “I don’t belong anywhere.”

Her grip tightened. “That’s not true,” she said firmly. “You belong to yourself first. Never forget that.”

I laughed weakly through my tears. “I don’t feel like I belong to anything anymore.”

“You do,” she said, pulling back just enough to look at my face. Her eyes were soft, but I could see a spark of anger there, anger at the cruelty of the world. “I see something in you. Something great.”

A faint warmth stirred deep in my chest. I clutched it, fragile as it was.

And then I heard laughter. It was sharp, careless, echoing from above. Vanessa’s voice, bright and cruel, cut through the air like knives.

“Did you see her face?” Vanessa giggled. “I thought she was going to pass out on the floor!”

Lucas’s laughter followed. “She deserved it. Thought she could play obedient wife and earn my respect.”

“She’s nothing,” Vanessa scoffed, leaning against him like she owned the world.

Lucas’s eyes darkened. “She’s mine. And I’ll make sure she remembers that every single day.”

I tried to make myself smaller. I wrapped my arms around myself, shaking. Aunt Locia handed me a cloth and a cup of water. I took them, my hands trembling, and drank slowly.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You’re not alone here,” she said gently. “Even if it feels that way.”

I nodded, clinging to her words like a fragile promise.