There were only two days left on Luna's contract.
I caught myself humming at my desk that afternoon—the first time in weeks. Not because work was easy. Just… lighter.
Then Daniel's message appeared. I'll get off early today. Let's have dinner at your place.
I stared at the screen and smiled. Okay. I'll cook. Looking forward to it.
Something warm and solid settled in my chest. I left the office earlier than I had in months. I didn't rush. I didn't check my phone. Even the air felt easier to breathe.
At the supermarket, I moved as if following a private ritual. Ribs—he liked them charred at the edges. Beef for stir-fry. Plump shrimp. Basil, mint, a knob of ginger. A small container of pickled vegetables he'd once mentioned. That almond cake from the bakery he'd pointed out months ago.
I bought too much. I didn't care. The evening arranged itself clearly in my mind: Clear soup first. Then the ribs, sizzling in the pan. Dessert with tea. Just us.
A normal night. A real one. As if the last month had been a fog I was finally stepping out of.
This was my home. This was my fiancé. In forty-eight hours, every borrowed thing would be returned.
I reached the door, my palms striped red from the weight of the grocery bags. I thought—faintly—that Luna would be in her room by now. She always made herself scarce when Daniel visited. Careful. Polite.
The key turned. For a second, I even felt it—the quiet, warm thrill of arriving where I belonged.
But as the door swung open, there was that glitch again. Just a trance-like second where the air seemed thick with those unformed, twisting lines. I blinked hard, and the normal room reappeared, every edge of the furniture regaining its sharpness.
I didn't take in the room. Only the center of it.
Daniel and Luna.
His hand cradled the back of her neck. The other was tight around her waist—possessive, effortless. Not a stolen touch. Not a hesitant grab. An embrace that looked lived-in. Habitual.
Then he leaned down—and kissed her.