My Dearly Beloved Luna

Chapter 14

I barely have time to catch my breath before the first sob tears through me.

I shove my fist against my mouth and bite down hard, desperate to keep the sound trapped inside. The metallic taste of blood reaches my tongue, but even that doesn’t stop the tears. They spill down my face anyway.

My shoulders shake with every uneven breath, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force myself back under control.

This isn’t the first time someone has called me less. I’ve heard worse. Weak. Useless. A burden. I’ve spent years listening to people talk about me as though I wasn’t standing right there. I’ve survived Mother’s cruelty, the pack’s judgment, and all those lonely years away from home.

I’ve learned how to take the hurt and lock it somewhere no one can reach.

So why does this hurt so much?

Why does hearing those words from Elias feel different?

I press my fist harder against my mouth as another sob escapes. He shouldn’t matter to me. He’s just a man who thinks I’m incapable, just another person who has decided I’m not good enough.

Then why does my chest feel like something has been ripped straight out of it?

My mind drags me back to dinner, to the moment his eyes met mine and that strange reaction moved through me. That impossible pull. The way I couldn’t look away even though I didn’t understand what was happening.

And now, after hearing what he thinks of me, some part of me feels betrayed.

It makes no sense.

I barely know the man he has become. I haven’t seen him properly in six years, yet something inside me is mourning him as though I’ve lost someone important.

I squeeze my eyes tighter and whisper, “Pull yourself together.”

My voice cracks.

“You’re stronger than this.”

I repeat it, but the words don’t convince me. I don’t feel strong. I feel like I’m falling apart.

My gaze drifts toward the nightstand, and through the blur of tears, the old photograph catches my attention.

Dad.

Trevor.

The two people who made me feel like I belonged somewhere, like I mattered. They loved me without asking me to earn it.

I reach toward the photograph with trembling fingers but stop before touching it.

They’re gone.

And I’m here, back in the house that never felt like mine, crying on the floor because a man I haven’t seen in years doesn’t want me near him.

A broken laugh escapes me before turning into another sob.

“This is pathetic,” I whisper, wiping my cheeks with the heel of my hand.

The strange ache inside my chest returns, stronger than before. It isn’t normal grief. It doesn’t feel like anything I’ve experienced. There’s something beneath it, something instinctive, something that seems to howl inside me without making a sound.

I wrap both arms around my knees and lower my forehead against them, letting the feeling tear through me. Humiliation, loneliness, confusion, grief. They all blur together until I can’t tell where one ends and another begins.

Eventually, exhaustion starts to win. My sobs become smaller, then fade into broken, uneven breaths, but I remain on the floor long after the tears stop. The crying may have ended, but the pain remains, settling somewhere deep inside me, cold and heavy.

As I lift my head and stare at the photograph of the family I lost, one thought keeps circling through my mind.

No matter how far I go, no matter how much I change, I’ll always be the girl nobody chooses.