Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Luna
The rehearsal hall's AC was cranked up. The wooden floor reeked of years of rosin and sweat. I went through the motions—pliés, relevés—my shoes scraping across the marbled wood, that harsh scratching filling my ears.
My mind kept drifting back to last night.
I kept seeing Mom's hand coming up, that arc through the air, carrying memories of every beating from my childhood.
But this time, I didn't bow my head.
Standing up to her, first came the pain. Then came relief. For the first time, I felt that weight that had crushed me for twenty years finally ease up.
And Cassian... Last night, he'd peeled himself open, showed me what was really inside. I never imagined that man, the one who owned Washington's high society, had been carrying around such a damp, dark, almost pathetic childhood.
Fuck, this world's a joke.
I'd leaned against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Felt that wall between us actually starting to crumble.
That man who'd armored himself in ice, who couldn't even say the word "love"—he'd laid his most vulnerable parts bare in front of me.
I didn't know what kind of courage that took. But I knew it was more honest than any apology could be. It made me see him differently.
I stopped moving, gripping the barre. My stomach turned over.
I thought about Cassian's rigid back as he stood in front of me. About the way Laila's eyes lit up every time she saw him.
These images tangled together like a knotted ball of yarn, strangling my thoughts.
If Laila knew that Cassian, the one who braided her crooked pigtails, was actually the father she'd asked about a hundred times, what would her face look like?
I didn't want to think about it. Because I didn't know if my decision was right. But I knew one thing for certain: I couldn't let Laila get hurt.
I'd go home first. I kicked off my shoes, bare feet on the cold floor, the chill bringing some clarity.
I pushed through the rehearsal hall doors and sucked in fresh air. The sun was fading, stretching my shadow long. Wind stirred up fallen leaves, carrying the city's autumn memories.
Four-thirty. I opened the door to the sound of a man's low laugh.
Cassian had left work early again.
Lately, he'd been coming home with ridiculous frequency, like some regular office worker ditching drinks to spend time with his kid.
I changed my shoes, stood in the entryway, peering through the half-open door.
Cassian sat cross-legged on the thick carpet. His expensive tailored jacket thrown over a chair. Tie yanked crooked.
Laila was on his back, little hands yanking his hair, shrieking with joy. "Giddyup! Horsey! Faster!"
"Laila, the 'horsey' has done three laps already. Can't he take a water break?" Cassian was begging for mercy, but his face showed a relaxed indulgence I'd never seen before. He turned his head and spotted me. Those usually icy blue eyes sparked to life.
"Luna, you're back. How was rehearsal?" He spoke while expertly lifting Laila off his back by her bottom.
Laila launched herself at me like a little cannonball, babbling. "Mommy! Cassian told me The Wizard of Oz, but he was terrible! He said Oz was a multinational trading conglomerate!"
Cassian rubbed his nose, standing up with some awkwardness, wiping his hands on his dress pants. "I just wanted to give her a head start on understanding how the world works."
I watched their easy interaction, something sharp lodged in my throat. Couldn't swallow it, couldn't spit it out.
Laila's dependence on him had reached alarming levels.
Over the next few days, I started noticing things I'd missed before.
Bedtime stories used to be our time—mine and Laila's. Since she was a few months old.
But now she started asking for Cassian. The first time I heard her say "I want Cassian tonight," my heart skipped. Pulse kicked up.
Cassian was nervous at first. He held the picture book like he was chairing a board meeting, voice stiff.
Laila listened to a few pages, rolled over, propped her chin on her hands, looking completely unimpressed. "Cassian, you're so boring."
He froze, expression like a student called out by the teacher. Then he smiled, leaning toward Laila.
"Then you teach me how to do it?" He handed her the book.
Laila sat up, took the book, flipped to the first page.
She started reading in that sweet, cute voice only kids have. "Once upon a time, there was a castle. In the castle lived a little princess..."
She read a line, paused, cocked her head to check if he was paying attention.
Cassian sat beside her, hands on his knees, leaning forward slightly, nodding seriously, occasionally asking "and then what?"
"Did you learn it?" she asked after finishing a page.
"I learned it," he answered solemnly.
"Then you tell it."
He told it. Better than the first try—his tone had variation, he even mimicked character voices. Still clumsy, but at least he wasn't reading a report anymore.
Laila listened, nodded with satisfaction, patted the covers. "Not bad. Keep trying next time."
"Yes, Teacher Laila," he said seriously.
She giggled and burrowed under the covers, closing her eyes. Cassian tucked in the corners, placed her teddy bear by her pillow.
Then he patted her back gently, carefully, like he was caring for something precious.
I stood in the doorway, watching his back.
This man. This man who didn't like kids. Who couldn't even use a hair tie before—now he could braid Laila's hair without thinking. Could sit on the floor playing pretend with her all afternoon.
He'd really changed.
And Laila depended on him more and more.
I started questioning myself. Could I really sever this natural pull between father and daughter just by hiding the truth?
That night, tucking Laila in, I heard her mumble something. I leaned close and heard her say, "Daddy."
Instantly, crushing guilt seized my heart, fingertips going ice cold.
Did I really have the right to rob Laila of having a father?
Cassian had hurt me, but his love for Laila—you couldn't fake that. That look in his eyes, all cautious pleasing and treasuring wonder—it was everything I'd once desperately wanted.
But fear coiled around me like a snake sinking its fangs into my heel.
If I told him the truth, with Cassian's controlling nature, would he let me take Laila?
I had to leave. So would he fight me for custody in court? In Washington, the King family could take a child easier than crushing an ant.
I walked out, leaned against the wall, gasping. The tangled emotions suffocating me.
I barely slept.
Next morning, I called Chloe with raccoon eyes.
She'd been busy with her new gallery project, often sleeping at the office.
I asked to meet her that afternoon at the corner café near Royal Ballet.
The café smelled of bitter burnt coffee. Outside the window, people rushed past.
Chloe wore a motorcycle jacket today. When she sat down, those sharp eyes scanned my face.
"You look like you didn't sleep. Did my brother wear you out last night?" Half joking, she relaxed against the chair.
"Chloe, I saw my mom a few days ago." I held the warm cup, fingernails picking at the label.
Chloe's face darkened instantly. "That old witch? What bullshit did she say now?"
I summarized the confrontation and Cassian's reaction. Chloe cursed throughout.
Finally, I looked down, voice barely audible. "But honestly, I've been thinking these past few days... whether I should tell Cassian. About Laila."
Chloe raised an eyebrow, waiting.
My fingers were ice. Throat tight. "Cassian's been great with her lately. Leaving work early to play. Clumsily reading her stories. Setting up playdates with her class. I... I took away their chance to know each other. Laila could have had a complete family."
Chloe didn't rush to speak. Just stirred her coffee thoughtfully, the spoon clinking against the cup.
"But I'm scared." My voice shook. "Scared that once he knows, he'll fight me for custody. Scared he'll turn back into that controlling Cassian. My career's on the rise. I can't give up touring. But Laila... she needs a stable dad."
Chloe's hand froze. She stared at me, then sighed deeply, unusually serious.
"Honestly, Luna. I used to support keeping it from him because he was a selfish asshole. But lately, I've been watching too."
She looked out the window, something complicated crossing her face. "And the way he looks at Laila—so soft. He genuinely likes her, regardless of whose kid she is."
"But I'm afraid he'll take her from me." My voice trembled badly. My stomach started hurting again.
"He won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because he loves you." She paused. "And he owes you. He knows it."
I looked at her, eyes stinging.
"Luna, I'm not defending him." Chloe squeezed my hand. "I'm thinking about Laila. Let her know she's not some unwanted bastard. She has a dad. Even if that dad was a real asshole before."
My fingers tightened around the cup. "I don't know. I'm not ready."
Chloe moved closer, let me lean on her shoulder. "Take your time. But don't let guilt crush you. You're strong enough already. No rush to decide. I'll always support you."
I leaned against her, nodded slowly.
Leaving the café, it was getting dark.
Streetlights flickered on, one by one, stretching into the distance.
Traffic was backed up. I gripped the steering wheel, watching the line of red taillights ahead, thoughts churning.
Half an hour later, I parked and pushed open the door. The entryway light glowed warm yellow.
Laila heard the door, screamed, and charged out from the living room, slamming into my legs.
"Mommy! Mommy! Look!" She waved two shiny tickets, eyes bright as stars. "Taylor concert! Cassian got them! He actually got them!"
I'd mentioned it once in passing. Laila's recent obsession with that singer. In Washington, these tickets were impossible to find, let alone front-row seats.
Cassian came out from the living room, hands in his pockets, wearing that careful look of someone seeking approval. But when he saw me, it shifted to something sheepish.
"Um... Luna." He cleared his throat, eyes dodging mine. "I pulled some strings, but it was too late. The seller only had two seats left together."
He looked at Laila with regret, then at me. "Tomorrow's show. I thought... you should take Laila. You girls would enjoy this more. I won't tag along."
Laila's smile faltered. She looked down at the tickets, then up at Cassian, obvious disappointment clouding her excitement.
"You're not coming?" she asked quietly, fingers gripping the ticket corners. "I wanted you to sing with me."
Seeing that light dim in Laila's eyes, something stabbed my chest.
I knew that disappointment too well. How many times as a kid had I held ballet tickets, only to watch Mother's busy back walk away.
I stared at Cassian as he awkwardly comforted Laila, promising the best popcorn and prettiest light sticks.
Laila's little face showed disappointment, but she didn't cry. Just nodded quietly.
That quietness broke my heart. She was always like this—too understanding. Same in London. Never complained. Never threw tantrums. Always good.
I walked over, crouched down to her level.
"Baby, Mommy has a really important rehearsal tomorrow." I kept my voice soft. "I might not be able to go."
Her eyes dimmed instantly. "Then... then the concert..."
"Let Cassian take you, okay?"
She froze, then turned to Cassian. Her eyes lit up.
Cassian stood there stunned, like someone who'd just won the lottery, fumbling, even his breathing quickening.
"Me? I take her?" He pointed at himself, voice shaking. "Luna, this... I've never taken a kid out alone."
"What's so hard about it?" I forced a light smile, though the churning in my stomach was climbing up my throat. "Buy popcorn. Keep her safe. Don't let her get crushed in the crowd. That's it."
Laila was already at Cassian's side, pulling his hand, looking up. "Cassian, you can really come with me?"
Cassian crouched down, looking at her.
His eyes were a little red, but he held it in. He reached out, gently touched Laila's hair, movement soft like touching something precious.
"I can." His voice shook slightly. "I'll go with you."
Laila shrieked and threw herself into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face in his shoulder, shaking with happiness.
That whole evening, Cassian acted more excited than signing a billion-dollar deal.
He even started researching concert guides on his laptop in the living room—which route avoided traffic, which entrance was fastest. He seriously wrote down lyrics to Taylor's hit songs, claiming he "can't embarrass himself at the venue."
I sat in the armchair nearby, watching him look ridiculous in his over-excitement, but my insides were a mess.
This was his first time taking Laila out alone.
No me as buffer. No Chloe to help and cover. Just the two of them.
I didn't know if this would be some kind of turning point.
What if something went wrong? What if Laila got lost in the crowd? What if Cassian noticed habits Laila shared with him and got suspicious?
But seeing Laila so excited, I couldn't take it back.
"Fuck..." I muttered, palms clammy.
I didn't know if I was pushing myself toward a cliff edge.
But when Cassian turned around and flashed me that brilliant, pure smile—
I suddenly thought maybe I should give that asshole a chance to prove himself.
I was certain Laila would have a great time.