Underneath the Moonlight

4: Solitude and Ultimatum

It had been almost a week since the fight with Kade, the fight that still replayed in my head in endless, exhausting loops. I tried to focus on work, on small tasks, even on the tiny decorations I’d put up in my apartment for Christmas, but nothing could drown out the sharp edges of his words.

I could have used a friend. Aurora would have been perfect. She had this uncanny way of making me laugh even when I didn’t want to, talking me down from spiraling thoughts. But she was out of town for work, visiting a client across the country, leaving me entirely alone to deal with the chaos Kade left behind.

I thought of my mom, too. She had done so much for me over the years, working tirelessly to support me and give me a life she could be proud of. Lately, she was buried in her own work, exhausted even in the evenings. The last thing I could do was trouble her with my problems, as if my heartbreak or frustration were another burden for her to manage. She had already done enough. More than enough. I owed her peace, not worry.

So I kept quiet. I swallowed the ache in my chest, tucked it deep inside, and tried to breathe. Alone.

And yet, when my phone buzzed late that afternoon, my heart stuttered despite myself.

It was him.

Kade: I need to see you. Please.

I hesitated, thumb hovering. Ignoring it seemed impossible. He had a way of demanding attention even when he wasn’t physically present.

I typed back cautiously.

Me: Where?

Kade: Let’s meet. I owe you an apology. I want to make it up to you.

I pressed “Call” before I could talk myself out of it.

“Selene,” his voice came through smooth and calm, like nothing had happened—but I could hear the calculation beneath it. “I’ve been thinking about us… about what I said, about how I acted. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. That wasn’t fair.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“I want to see you,” he continued, deliberate, precise. “Christmas Eve. Dinner. Just the two of us. No one deserves to be alone on Christmas Eve.”

My stomach twisted. Relief mingled with tension, confusion, guilt—he was apologizing, yet still commanding the terms.

“I—I thought…” I started, but his next words cut me off.

“I’ll be busy on Christmas,” he said lightly. “You’ll have to make do with Christmas Eve. And honestly, Selene, you don’t have the right to be upset that we can’t be together on the actual day.”

My chest tightened, the coldest part of his voice sinking in. He wasn’t asking for forgiveness. He was dictating it. He wasn’t apologizing entirely. He was manipulating me.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Okay. Christmas Eve.” Actually… that might have been for the better anyway. I realized I haven’t been spending time with mom lately. It’ll be a perfect opportunity to have a mom-daughter time, get some weight off my shoulders at the same time. She definitely would be happy.

“Good,” he said, a faint edge beneath his smooth words. “I want tonight to be better. I need you to understand, Selene, that I care. Even when I push. And I do care about you. That’s why this matters.”

I nodded against the phone, unsure what to say.

————

By the time I hung up, the café felt even more like a sanctuary than usual. The Half Moon Night Café had always been comforting, but lately, it had become something more—a place to gather my thoughts, to breathe, to feel like I existed outside the chaos Kade had been orchestrating.

Asher placed a cup of freshly made caramel latte in front of me. “You look like you needed another one of this,” he said softly.

How thoughtful.

I nodded. “Yeah… I did.”

He didn’t press, didn’t ask questions. He just moved with his usual quiet efficiency behind the counter, tending to other customers while still keeping a faint awareness of my presence. There was something comforting about that—an unspoken steadiness. I could sit here for hours if I needed, and he’d simply… let me. Not probing, not rushing. Just letting me exist.

I took a sip of the latte, feeling the warmth slide down my throat. Outside, snow fell in slow, steady sheets. It looked beautiful, almost peaceful. But inside me, the storm raged. I kept thinking about Kade’s words, the way he made me feel simultaneously cherished and wrong. Loved and guilty. Wanted and controlled.

I had no one else to call. Aurora is out of town. Why don’t I have friends other than her?

The streets were bustling with strangers who didn’t know me, and my apartment felt too small for the enormity of my thoughts. So I stayed.

The café was filling with the evening crowd now—students from nearby universities with laptops and headphones, a few couples celebrating early dinners, and a mother soothing a toddler with gentle humming. The lights cast everything in a golden haze, and the fireplace flickered in the back corner, making shadows dance slowly across the walls.

I found myself glancing at Asher, who was carefully wiping down a table. He moved with quiet precision, almost meditative. I realized I hadn’t even noticed him before, not really. He wasn’t trying to be helpful or charming. He simply existed in the space with a calm, steady presence, and it reminded me that stability was possible, even when life felt designed to keep me off balance.

A small part of me wished Aurora were here. Someone to share the quiet, someone to reassure me that I wasn’t overreacting, that Kade’s words were not a reflection of my worth. But she wasn’t, and I had to make do with the next best thing—a place that felt like home for an hour, a warm cup in my hands, and a person who noticed me without demanding anything in return.

I let the latte cool in front of me, watching the foam curl at the edges of the cup. My thoughts kept returning to Kade. He had apologized. He had invited me to dinner. He had said he cared. And yet, the edge in his voice, the subtle control in his words… it lingered like a shadow across the warmth of the holiday season.

I took another sip, steadying myself.

I’d go to Christmas Eve dinner. I’d smile. I’d act as though everything was fine. It’s in two days. It’s enough time to clear my head from unnecessary thoughts.

And I’d keep going back to the café, where at least I didn’t have to play a part, where at least I could breathe, where at least I didn’t feel like I was walking on a tightrope above someone else’s expectations and manipulations.

The snow fell outside, soft and endless, and for the first time in days, I felt a small thread of calm wind through me. Not hope, not joy—nothing that Kade could touch. Just… calm.

And for tonight, that was enough. I feel like things will only get better from now here. Aurora will probably be done with work too.