Mirellie
I turned another page and then another.
Soon the sunlight outside had shifted. The room had grown softer and warmer as evening slowly approached, yet I barely noticed. The deeper I read, the more uncomfortable I became. At first, I thought Luna Evelyne was simply writing about the ordinary pressures that came with being Luna—the responsibility, the expectations and the endless duties. But the further I went, the darker the entries became. Not dramatic or tragic, just sad. A quiet sadness that seemed to seep through every page.
There were entries about attending gatherings surrounded by hundreds of people and still feeling alone. Entries about standing beside her Alpha while feeling invisible. Entries about smiling through events she desperately wanted to escape from. One passag
