Crippled Luna's Farewell: Half A Life Without My Alpha's Deadly Deception novel Chapter 164

Sarah hesitated as she read Cole’s message. Fireworks sounded nice, especially since Abby would be there, but the thought of standing together under the night sky, watching the bursts of color explode above them, felt… too intimate. Too much like something a family or a couple would do.

She had already seen how others mistook them for a family. The warmth in Abby’s eyes whenever she looked at her, the way Cole always made space for her in their little outings—it was too easy to fall into the illusion. And illusions were dangerous.

So, with steady fingers, she typed back:

**Sarah:** *I can’t tonight. Already have plans with my family at Center Square.*

Cole’s response was immediate.

**Cole:** *Alright. Have fun.*

Simple. No pressure, no further questions.

Sarah exhaled softly, relieved.

…

Meanwhile, Abby, still giddy from her conversation with Sarah, accepted another video call—this time from Alex.

“Abby!” Alex’s voice rang out, his face filling the screen. “Guess what I brought back for you?”

He grinned, holding up a small stuffed wolf with a jeweled collar. “Cool, right? Limited edition! Got it from a specialty store.”

Abby’s eyes widened. “That’s so cute!” she giggled. “Thank you, Alex!”

Feeling playful, she lifted her own treasure—a delicate, handmade snowflake charm—and held it up to the camera. “Look! My aunt gave me this!”

The smile on Alex’s face wavered. He stared at the charm, a flicker of recognition in his gaze.

*That looks just like the ones I used to have…*

And yet, seeing Abby treasure her gift so dearly… something inside him shifted.

He suddenly wanted it again.

“Hey, where did you say you got that?” he asked, his tone casual.

Abby tilted her head. “My Aunt made it for me! You can’t buy it in stores!” she said proudly.

Looking at the charm, Alex froze, his fingers tightening around the phone.

The delicate snowflake design was familiar—too familiar.

His mind reeled back to childhood winters, when his mother would sit by the warm fireplace, knitting small trinkets just like this. Back then, he had thought little of them, accepting them absentmindedly before tossing them aside.

As he grew older, he had found them childish, unnecessary. One day, without much thought, he had instructed the maids to clear them out, letting them gather dust in the attic.

But now, seeing Abby hold it so preciously, warmth spreading across her small face, an unfamiliar ache settled in his chest.

*Hadn’t he once had that same expression?* He couldn’t recall the exact moment when he stopped caring.