CHAPTER THREE #2
The view that met me was almost too perfect, like something fabricated for a honeymoon brochure or a billionaire’s Instagram feed.
Towering palms framed an endless sweep of ocean, its glassy blue surface kissed by the sun.
The horizon shimmered, bleeding into sky and cloud and something far beyond words.
The sound of the waves drifted upward like a lullaby, low, rhythmic and hypnotic.
And for a moment, I could almost forget.
Forget the ache I’d packed into my suitcase.
Forget that in less than twenty-four hours, I’d meet the strangers who were now my stepfamily.
Marcus and Riley Maddox.
But the ocean couldn’t drown the thought of them.
And it couldn’t drown the sound that shattered the moment. One sharp, intrusive ping that sliced through the salt-heavy air.
My hand moved before my mind did, reaching for the phone buried in my bag. The screen lit up against the sunlight, cold and pale. A new message. No name. Just words that burned themselves into me, simple and merciless.
You don’t have much time left.
The world seemed to still around me. The sound of the waves faded, replaced by the low hum of blood in my ears. The breeze lifted my hair, tangling it across my face. I forced a breath through my lungs, shaking my head as if the motion alone could scatter the chill crawling down my spine.
It was just another message.
A stranger hiding behind a screen, feeding off fear.
I told myself that. Over and over.
I locked the phone, slipped it back into my bag, and lifted my chin toward the horizon. The sun was still shining. The world was still turning. I wouldn’t give power to a ghost made of words.
I gripped the wooden railing, fingers tightening until the wood bit into my palms. Beauty could be cruel sometimes. This kind of beauty, especially. The kind that reminded you just how far away you were from the world you used to call home.
Behind me, soft footsteps.
Then arms. Familiar. Warm. Mum’s. She wrapped herself around my waist and leaned her chin gently against my shoulder.
“Marcus really outdid himself, didn’t he?” she murmured. Her voice was soft silk, threaded with awe and something deeper. Contentment. The kind of quiet, earned joy I hadn’t heard from her in years.
“It’s unreal,” I said, breathless. But what I didn’t say, what hovered just behind the words, was that it felt like I was trespassing in someone else’s life.
We spent the afternoon wandering through the resort, Mum’s arm looped through mine like it had never let go. She became my guide, giddy and glowing, her happiness as vibrant as the tropical flowers blooming along the cobblestone paths.
The resort was a masterpiece. A hidden world carved into the island, wild and manicured all at once.
Buildings rose from the jungle in soft curves of timber and glass, their architecture somehow respectful of the landscape instead of conquering it.
Everywhere, water, flowing, tumbling, still.
Infinity pools edged cliffs like mirrors, reflecting palm silhouettes and sky.
Exotic birds trilled from somewhere overhead, their calls echoing through the canopy like flutes.
On the beach, the sand was so fine it sifted through my toes like the softest powder. I dipped my feet into the sea, the chill kissing my skin with delicate, teasing nips.
We browsed the boutique shops tucked between groves of plumeria trees, places that sold kaftans worth more than our monthly rent back in Sydney, and seashell earrings priced like diamonds.
We laughed at it all, Mum and I, until I forgot I was supposed to feel lost. Forgot I was the guest in someone else’s fantasy.
As the sky caught fire and began to bleed itself dry in streaks of molten orange and lavender, we found a quiet table at an oceanfront café with an open-air terrace framed by hanging lanterns that swayed in the breeze like sleeping fireflies.
We ordered mocktails laced with crushed mint and hibiscus, and picked at plates of fresh fruit and delicate pastries I couldn’t pronounce.
For a second, I let myself pretend. Pretend this was just a vacation. A moment. A pause. Not a farewell to one life and a reluctant plunge into another.
“So,” Mum said after a while, her fingers idly stirring her drink. Her voice softened into something more tentative, edged with concern. “Tell me the truth, sweetheart. How are you really feeling? About all of this?”
I looked at her. Really looked.
She was glowing. Not just from the sun, but from something internal. A deep contentment that softened her eyes and curved her lips upward. Her smile was no longer tight or tired. There was life in it.
Wholeness.
And somehow, that made it harder to answer.
I drew in a breath, the sea breeze carrying the scent of tides and blooming jasmine, and stared at the vastness in front of us.
“It’s a lot,” I said finally. My voice barely made it past the rim of my glass. “All of it.”
She reached across the table and took my hand, her touch firm, grounding.
“I know.” Her voice trembled just slightly, like she wanted to say more but couldn’t yet. “I know it’s everything all at once. And I wish I could make it easier for you. I hate that you had to leave your friends. Your dad. Everything that’s familiar.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said, quickly, fiercely.
I squeezed her hand, like I needed her to feel it.
“It’s just… life. Circumstances. Dad’s dig.
You living here. It feels like a chapter ended, and I didn’t get to write the last line.
Like the story just… jumped to a new book, and I haven’t caught up. ”
I swallowed hard.
“I miss him already. And Sienna. And Chiara. I know they’ll call, but… it won’t be the same.”
Mum’s expression shifted, a shadow flitting across her features like a cloud over the sun.
“I know what it’s like,” she said quietly. Her thumb stroked mine, slow and soothing. “To leave everything behind. When I left you and Jack, even though it was the right thing… it shattered something inside me. Every night I wasn’t there to tuck you in, every birthday I missed…it haunted me.”
Her gaze met mine, fierce and wet and apologetic.
“But you, Luna… you are resilient. You always have been. I see it in you, even when you don’t feel it. And this…Palo Alto, this new life…it doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be yours.”
I bit my lip. Let her words sink into the sore, raw places inside me.
“I’m scared,” I whispered. “Of starting over. Of being… out of place.”
And I was scared of something else too. Of the stranger who kept finding me through glowing screens and whispered threats, someone who knew too much, as if they’d been standing just out of sight all along.
She reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Then we’ll do it together,” she said. “One day at a time. And if you fall apart a little, that’s okay too.”
I nodded, but part of me still drifted out with the tide.
And though the resort was a dream, and my mother’s arms were a safe harbor… I could feel the storm beginning to pull on the edges of everything.
I offered a shaky smile, more reflex than conviction. “I know.”
The words clung to the back of my throat. “It just feels a bit… overwhelming right now.”
That wasn’t the right word.
Crushing, maybe.
Like I’d stepped into someone else’s dream, but couldn’t quite breathe inside it.
Mum didn’t push. She just waited, her fingers loosely wrapped around mine. Gentle. Patient. The way she always was when I was unraveling.
And so I spoke again, voice lower now, barely above the ocean’s hush.
“And I’m nervous. About Marcus. About… Riley.” I exhaled slowly. “It still doesn’t feel real that I haven’t even met them yet.”
Her laugh was soft, breezy and unburdened. A sound I hadn’t heard in so long that it felt like a different woman entirely had made it.
“They’re good men, darling,” she said with quiet certainty. “Truly. Marcus is kind, thoughtful. He listens to me. Makes me feel seen in a way I forgot was possible.”
She paused, brushing her thumb over my knuckles.
“And Riley… he’s a bit of a mystery, I’ll admit.” Her smile curved, lopsided and affectionate. “Keeps to himself mostly. But there’s a good heart in him. Even if it’s buried under layers he doesn’t let many people near.”
I nodded, though the knot in my stomach didn’t ease.
It twisted tighter. Something about the way she said his name made my skin pull tighter across my bones.
A boy with secrets and silence. A boy I was meant to somehow share air with.
Share space. Share blood in the cruel, technical way stepfamilies do.
“You’ll meet them both tomorrow,” she added, her voice hopeful, like a promise cast into the wind. “At the wedding. Everything will fall into place, you’ll see. You’re stronger than you think.”
I took a sip of my drink, hibiscus and lime, bright and cloyingly sweet, and tried to let her hope fill me, even if it didn’t quite stick.
The light around us shifted.
The sun had slipped lower behind the sea, staining the sky in impossible hues; deep violets melting into bruised pinks, edged in fire. A watercolor of farewell and beginnings.
And in that moment, something inside me slowed.
Yes, I still felt the ache of everything I’d left behind. Dad’s crooked smile, Sienna’s playlist of sad girl songs, Chiara’s fierce hugs that always lasted too long, but something softer rose in its place.
A glimmer.
Not quite peace. Not quite acceptance.
But maybe… the beginning of maybe.
Maybe I could survive this.
Maybe I could adapt.
Maybe I’d find a way to hold onto myself, even here, on this island of curated beauty and expensive smiles.
The wind shifted again, and with it came the scent of dinner. Grilled fish, charred citrus and roasted spices wafted from the resort’s restaurant. My stomach growled, a crude reminder that I was still here. Still flesh and hunger and need.
Mum smiled, rising to her feet, her silhouette outlined by lantern light. “Shall we eat, my love?” Her voice was a hush against the wind.
I nodded, and this time, the smile that curved my mouth felt real. Not perfect, but honest. “More than ready.”
We walked slowly, side by side, beneath a canopy of glowing orbs strung between palm trees. Each step was softened by smooth stone pathways lined with orchids and moonlit ferns. Water trickled somewhere close, a manmade stream threading through the resort, catching the light like liquid crystal.
The main restaurant was a sprawling pavilion open to the elements, its high ceiling made of woven palm fronds and dark wooden beams. Tiki torches flickered at the periphery, casting golden light over white tablecloths and clinking cutlery.
It smelled like decadence. Like money. Like something I wasn’t used to claiming.
And yet…
I kept walking.
Kept holding on to her warmth beside me.
Because this was a night carved out for peace. For surrender. The real battles like new schools and a new family would come soon enough.
But tonight?
Tonight I had my mother. Her laughter. Her light.
And that would have to be enough.
The sadness lingered, quiet and ever-present, like a shadow at the edge of every thought. But it wasn’t alone anymore. It was accompanied now by something else, small, fragile, but alive.
Anticipation.
Hope, maybe.
I was scared. Yes.
I was still grieving the life I’d left behind.
But I was also Luna Carter.
And I’d survived worse things than this.
Whatever came next, I would face it.
Even them.