THE LUNA QUEEN IS ME

NYXARA “Congratulations, Luna, you're six weeks pregnant.” I stared at the doctor, the words initially meaningless in my ears, until he repeated himself. “You're six weeks gone, Luna Nyx. Congratulations,” he beamed at me while my hand went to my stomach, as if I could already feel the life forming there. I was pregnant. Pregnant. Carrying my husband's baby after three years of marriage. After three years of hoping and praying that my husband would look at me and see me. After three years of praying that my husband would look at me and not wish that it was another woman standing in front of him. I couldn't contain my elation as I walked out of the doctor's office in a trance. My whole life has been a roller-coaster of terrible experiences. My mother hated me so much that I was used as the physical outlet for her frustration. She never held me in love but in hatred. I received nothing but lashes from her, and they weren't only physical but also verbal. And then, four years ago, shortly after my 20th birthday, the truth of my birth came into light because the person who had lived as me all her life needed a blood donation. That was when we realized that I wasn't my mother's daughter after all, I was the daughter of a wealthy family who also gave birth in the same hospital that my fake mother did. She swapped her daughter with theirs. When the daughter they raised needed a blood donation, and none of them were a match for her, it led them to investigate the hospital where they gave birth, and that was how the truth came to light. When the truth came out, she was promptly arrested and jailed, and I moved into my original parents’ house. I expected things to change for me then. I expected them to welcome me with open arms and try to make up for all the lost years. They welcomed me quite alright, but it wasn't the same. I might be their blood daughter, but I wasn't the daughter they raised. I wasn't the one they sang lullabies to, the one whose wisdom tooth they buried, or the one they held when she bruised her knees. I wasn't Zora Blackwood. Zora was the daughter they raised and loved, even though she was the daughter of the woman who stole their birth daughter. Zora was the love of their life. They loved her so much and wanted everything to stay the same. So I became an afterthought in my own biological parents’ house. I wasn't getting abused anymore, but I was still very much unloved. Maybe it'd have been different if Zora weren't a sweet soul who gave me a public apology in front of the whole family the night after I moved in. She apologized for her mother's crimes, then broke down as she hugged me in what felt like a crushing mission rather than an apologetic hug. She announced that she'd leave the house if I weren't comfortable with her around because I was the original daughter afterall. My parents chastised her before she even finished speaking. Of course, you can't leave the house. We raised you. You're our daughter too. Both of you will live together as sisters. So we lived together as sisters. Zora was the sweetest soul. She took me everywhere. She booked events and outings, spa dates, and movie dates for us together. She introduced me to her close friends as the original daughter, whom she stole her life in comical tones that made everyone at the table laugh. She introduced me to her chosen mate, the alpha prince of one of the two most reputable packs in the country, Kael Volkov. He was a man whose eyes always followed Zora wherever she went, and meeting him reminded me that my real family was really wealthy and had connections with people of really high status. We stayed up all night binge-watching kdramas and listening to songs. She was the sister I never had, but despite how hard she tried to make me feel welcome, I just felt like something was missing. I tried to wave it off as me just overthinking things. It made me feel bitter that while Zora was trying so hard to make me feel welcome and settled, I was doubting her genuineness. Until things started going missing in the house. Mom’s rings. Dad's wristwatches. Zora’s jewelry. That's weird. Things have never gone missing in the house before. I wonder who'd steal the diamonds and gold. They didn't accuse me directly, but their eyes lingered on me, and I knew what they were thinking: things had never gone missing in the house before, not until Nyx moved in. They didn't have to verbalize their thoughts until a maid cleaning my room found a box of the stolen jewelry under my bed. “You should have asked us, Nyx,” my mother roared while my father held her, “if you needed jewelry or anything, you could have asked us. Why steal?” I fell to my knees in tears, unable to believe the box that had been dragged out from under my bed. “I didn't steal anything. I've never stolen anything in my life.” “Come on, Nyx,” my father's voice was calm, but I could feel the anger beneath, “You don't have to lie. Just own up to it, and you'll be forgiven.” “I can't own up to something I didn't do.” “Just shut up. You…” “Mommmm,” Zora rushed in from where she had gone to get her hair done. She knelt down beside me and quickly pulled my quivering body into a hug, “Stop it. Even if Nyx stole them, you shouldn't talk to her like that.” “I didn't steal anything.” “It's fine, Nyx,” she patted my hair slowly, her eyes bright with worries, but there was still a taunting undertone in her voice and smile at the corners of her lips, “there's no stealing here, we're all family. You just took them. Whatever is mine belongs to you. Whatever is Mom’s and Dad's belongs to you, too. You're the real daughter afterall.” “I didn't take anything, Nyx. I wouldn't take anything without permission.” “It's fine,” she didn't stop patting my hair as she turned to our parents, “Nyx grew up in poverty. Her mother was wretched, and she's probably seeing all these things for the first time in her life. Let's give her grace. Even if she took them without our permission, we should understand her. Afterall…” My dismissed feelings suddenly evaporated in a searing anger that made me shrug her hand off me in a shove, “I didn't steal it. I didn't take it without permission. Why won't anyone believe me!” “Oh f**k,” Zora yelled, holding her hand that I just shrugged off, and with her face contorted in pain. Our parents rushed to her while I shrank back. “I think she sprained my shoulder from how she pushed it,” she winced and yelped loudly when ur mother tried to touch her shoulder. “What on earth is wrong with you, Nyx? Your sister was only trying to defend you.” “I swear, I didn't…” “Just shut up,” she continued, “and stay in your room. You've done more than enough harm.” They ushered a limping Zora out of the room, even though it was her shoulder that I allegedly hurt. I remained in my room till evening. No one bothered to check up on me, even though I could hear their laughter and the jokes they cracked as they watched a family movie together. That was when I realized that not so much had changed. The abuse might not be physical here, but it was more or less the same. I might be their daughter by blood, but they'd never love me like they love Zora. I remained in my room, forgotten, hungry, and miserable until someone knocked on my door later in the evening. It was Zora. She had forgiven me for angrily pushing her off, so I could come out of my room now, and I could join them for dinner. I had to apologize to the family and to Zora, and while eating, Mother told me. “You can see how perfect Zora is, right? We raised her to be like that, and we expect you to emulate her.” I nodded, eager and desperate for their love and approval. If they wanted me to become a second Zora, I'd be. And so I tried to morph myself into what Zora was until 8 months after I moved in with them, when Zora left the house with a letter behind. I don't belong here anymore. Nyx is the real daughter. I can't continue to ignore the fact that she grew up the way she did while I grew up in the luxury that belongs to her. I tried to ignore my feelings, but I keep feeling like my presence in the house is holding my… her birth parents back from loving her the way they should. That's why I'm leaving.