Eluna’s P.O.V.
“And you?” I asked, needing a distraction.
“Why are you in Fairview anyway? It doesn’t seem like your usual scene.”
He was quiet for a second, and when I looked over, the playfulness in his face had softened. His eyes—warm and gold-flecked in between the deep pools of blue—were watching the forest floor like it might give him answers.
“I hated my life,” he said simply.
“It got too loud. Too... planned. I didn’t get to choose anything anymore. My manager booked every hour. I was singing songs I didn’t write, smiling when I didn’t want to, being someone I didn’t recognize.”
I stopped walking.
His voice wasn’t dramatic or self-pitying—it was just brutally honest. And it hit me in the gut harder than I expected.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. Jackson shrugged, kicking a
