Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Luna
The car crawled through the night.
I leaned back against the passenger seat. Outside, lights streaked across the glass—one after another, like colored rivers. Cassian's warmth still lingered in my palm. I closed my eyes. The fireworks flickered behind my lids.
Today felt unreal.
The square. The music. That little restaurant. The fireworks. Sonia's hug.
I turned to look at Cassian. He was focused on the road ahead, his profile cutting in and out of shadow under the streetlights. His hand rested on the wheel—long fingers, defined knuckles. The same hand that had held mine so gently.
Six years ago, I never would've believed he could become this version of himself—remembering what I liked to eat, taking me on a date, and making my biggest dream come true. And tonight, under those fireworks, when I looked into his eyes, I saw only my reflection. Just me.
Something inside me was shifting. It left me disoriented.
Then Cassian's phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and frowned.
"Work call." He looked at me. "I need to take this."
"Okay."
He pulled the car over slowly and picked up his phone.
I watched him. He listened to whoever was on the other end, occasionally responding, his expression growing more serious. The voice on the line was urgent. I couldn't make out the words, but it felt important.
After a moment, he sighed and covered the mouthpiece, turning to me.
"You should head back. Laila's still waiting for you at home." He paused. "I have to deal with something. Might be a while."
I nodded. "Okay."
I pushed open the door and got out. The night breeze hit me—cool, carrying the scent of grass and earth.
I stood on the curb, breathing deep, letting the wind blow away the lingering heat from my face.
Tonight had been too good. So good it felt like a dream.
I shook my head, pushing the scattered thoughts aside for now, and started walking home.
Around the corner, the house came into view. That lamp in the yard was on—the one he always left burning.
I quickened my pace, thinking about Laila. Wondering if she'd kicked off her covers.
Then I saw someone standing at the door, under the streetlight.
A familiar figure.
She wore a dark gray coat. Her hair had gone grayer than it was six years ago, but her posture hadn't changed—always straight-backed, always scrutinizing. A black handbag hung from her hand. She stood at the door, looking at me.
I stopped dead. Some nameless pressure pinned me in place.
My mother.
Katherine Crawford.
What was she doing here?
Six years ago, when I'd called her after the accident, she told me not to be a burden to Cassian. Then she hung up. I'd felt myself dying that night.
I never contacted her again after that. Because I understood—if she knew where I was, she'd drag Cassian here to take me back without hesitation.
I stood frozen, a few steps away, staring at her. My fingers went cold.
She stared back.
Time seemed to freeze. I could hear my heartbeat—pounding faster and faster.
She spoke first.
"Luna."
That voice. Exactly as I remembered. No warmth in it. The same tone she used when I made mistakes in competitions as a child.
I inhaled softly and walked over, stopping in front of her. Two steps between us.
"Mother."
Her gaze swept over me, top to bottom, like she was inspecting a defective product. I knew that look too well. Always searching for flaws.
"You've gotten bold." Her voice was ice. "Six years. Not a single call."
I said nothing.
In those six years, every night I could barely hold on, I'd picked up the phone countless times. And put it down again.
And now here she was. Her first words still a rebuke. Not a greeting.
"Do you have any idea how hard I looked for you?" She stepped closer, crowding me. "Cassian came to me. I knew nothing. How was I supposed to explain that to him?"
Explain.
The word stuck like a barb.
"Do you know how humiliating that was for me?" Katherine didn't give me a chance to speak. Her voice rose. "And you? Living it up somewhere. Not giving a damn that you're Mrs. King."
I looked at her. My throat felt blocked.
Living it up. That's what she called it.
She had no idea what I'd survived alone in London. No idea what it was like holding Laila by myself, dancing until my feet bled, feeling that kind of desperation.
She knew nothing. She didn't want to know.
Nausea rolled through me. Dizziness followed.
Her eyes were full of disgust. "Running away from home? Thank God Cassian kept the news of your disappearance quiet. Can you imagine if the media or other companies found out? Where would that leave me?"
Face. Always about face.
I stood there. My hands started shaking. Not from cold. From that old familiar fear crawling back.
I pressed my left hand over my right. Took a breath.
"Mom." My voice came out. "Six years. This is what you want to say when you see me?"
She hesitated, like she hadn't expected me to say that.
"Don't you want to know how I've been?" I asked. "If I got hurt? If things were hard?"
"Hard?" Her expression flickered, then snapped back to that critical mask. "Your biggest problem is your failed marriage!"
She clicked forward in her heels. Each step hammered my nerves as her accusations crashed over me.
"I heard you joined some little Royal Ballet?"
"Not some little Royal Ballet." I made my voice steady. "Principal dancer with the Royal Ballet in London."
She frowned. "So what? Prancing around onstage like a circus act? That's what you think matters? Luna, ballet was supposed to be your ticket into high society, not some embarrassing career!"
The words hit like a blow. My vision blurred.
I should've known. I was never her daughter. I was the tool for her dreams.
Just like when I was small. She never cared if I was hurt. Only how many awards I won.
When the King family proposed the marriage arrangement, she agreed immediately. Told me I'd never need to dance ballet in public again.
In her eyes, there was no "are you okay?" Only "is it impressive enough?"
"Enough!"
I jerked my head up, cutting off her abuse with everything I had. My voice rang harsh in the quiet street.
I breathed deep, forcing down the trembling rage, straightening my spine.
I looked into her eyes. Each word distinct.
"Enough. I'm not that little girl who only knew how to please you anymore."
She froze.
"I'm a principal dancer with the Royal Ballet now." My voice was clearer than I expected. "I proved my worth through my own effort. Not because of anyone else. Because of me."
Her face changed.
"What are you saying? Don't you realize what you need to do is make Cassian forgive—"
"I'm saying I won't be anyone's accessory anymore. Not yours. Not Cassian's." I cut her off. Deep inside, that ruin called "mother's love" finally collapsed completely. Nothing left but cold rubble.
Fury flared in her eyes. She laughed coldly, lifting her chin. "Your so-called worth is useless. Securing your position as Mrs. King—that's your only way forward."
"I'm leaving soon." As I said it, the tightness in my chest eased slightly. "If you only came to say this garbage, then I think we don't need to see each other again."
She went still. Like she hadn't expected the daughter who used to take everything silently, who barely dared raise her voice, to speak to her this way.
Then it registered. Her face shifted from shock to rage.
"What did you say?" Her voice pitched higher. "You dare cut ties with me?"
I looked at her. For the first time in over twenty years, I didn't lower my head.
"Yes," I said. "I don't need to prove anything to you anymore. I don't need your approval. I'm good enough already."
Her face flushed. Her voice went shrill.
"Without me, where would you be? You wouldn't even have that pathetic principal position! Now you've gotten arrogant enough to talk to me like this?"
"I became principal because I worked for it," I said. "Because I practiced until my feet bled every day. Because I went back to rehearsal three months after giving birth. I carried everything alone! It has nothing to do with you!"
"A child?" She caught it instantly, seizing the keyword. "Cassian's? A daughter or—"
Calculation and delight tangled across her face. Seeing that familiar expression, something exploded in my head.
"Don't you dare go after my child." My voice was pure warning. "Don't even think about turning her into another me!"
Offended humiliation detonated across her face. Her features twisted with rage, shattering her carefully maintained elegance.
"I didn't raise you well enough? You ungrateful wretch!"
She whipped her hand up, carrying twenty-plus years of authority and her fear of losing control, swinging hard at my face.
Her favorite method of discipline—violence and shame to remind me of my place.
I squeezed my eyes shut, shoulders hunching instinctively, bracing for that familiar, stinging pain.
But the slap never landed.
A solid, warm chest blocked everything, shielding me from the cold.
Cassian. His face was dark. Fury burned in his eyes. He held Katherine's wrist—not hard, but enough to stop her.
He'd hung up and gotten here somehow. Now he had me locked against him, his posture radiating absolute possession and protection.
Katherine's sharp gaze flinched under Cassian's cold stare. She pulled her hand back, straightening her disheveled shawl.
"Good evening, Cassian. I was only teaching her how to be a proper wife."
"She's already perfect as she is." Cassian had zero interest in hearing her out. He looked down at her, his disgust thick and unmistakable. "If your teaching means making her beg and compromise, then you can leave."
"That's not—"
"I love her. I love everything she is." Cassian glanced at me gently. "So I won't let anyone hurt her. Not even you, Mrs. Crawford."
Katherine opened her mouth, trying to say something.
But Cassian stepped forward, blocking me completely.
"Now leave. Before you regret it."
She stood there, looking at us. Her expression cycled from anger to shock to something complicated.
"But I only want what's best for her." She murmured, voice dropping low, almost talking to herself. "Everything I did was for her own good..."
She opened her mouth again, trying to salvage some last shred of fake dignity. But when she met Cassian's ice-cold eyes, she shut it.
Her gaze still held anger, resentment, and something I'd never seen before—confusion, maybe. Or bewilderment.
Then she turned and walked away slowly, her pace quickening.
Those frantic, chaotic heel-clicks finally disappeared around the corner.
The silence returned, heavy as stagnant water. I stood frozen in Cassian's arms. All the strength and composure I'd forced myself to show crumbled to nothing.
The hurt of being degraded like trash by my own mother—that time bomb buried for years—detonated in my chest.
My body shook. Starting in my fingertips, spreading to my arms, shoulders, everywhere.
Cassian turned, looking at me.
"Luna. Don't think about it."
His palm stroked the back of my head gently, pressing my face to his shoulder. His voice was soft. "It's over. I'm here. No one can hurt you again."
I looked up at him. The tears finally broke free.
"Why... Cassian, why doesn't she love me?" Tears poured down my face, like I was crying out twenty-plus years of buried pain.
This was the first time I'd stood up to Katherine. I'd succeeded. So why did it hurt so much?
I buried my face in his chest, clutching his shirt.
"Why am I only ever a bargaining chip to her? She didn't even ask how I survived in London all those years. She only cared if I embarrassed her!"
That bone-deep coldness felt worse than London's harshest winter.
Cassian didn't speak. He just tightened his arms, locking me against his broad, warm chest. Let my tears soak his expensive shirt. Kissed the top of my head softly.
"Her not loving you is her loss. The stupidest thing she'll ever do." He murmured in my ear, his voice carrying unshakable certainty.
"Luna, look at me." He held my shoulders, reaching up to wipe my tears. The gesture was light, careful, like handling something precious. "You deserve to be loved."
"Not because you're a principal. Not because you're useful." He said. "Because you're you. Luna."
I looked at him, trying to speak. Nothing came out.
"From now on, you have me. You have Laila. We'll always have your back."
His words, surging with love, struck something deep in my heart. I collapsed against him, feeling his steady heartbeat like a drum. Gradually calming down.
Something inside me was quietly healing.