From Rejected Mate to Luna (Julia White) novel Chapter 65

Chapter 65

Julia’s POV

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I blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected message, but found myself nodding with genuine appreciation. ‘Please thank

her for me.” Olivia had shown interest in my work before, and her thoughtfulness warmed something in my otherwise numb emotional

state.

The whispers around me immediately intensified. “Wait, she knows his wife?” one wolf murmured. Another quickly corrected her: ‘Olivia is James’s mate, not Matthew’s. And of course he knows White-she was the top scholarship recipient. Spring Valley’s been watching her

since that dinner last semester.”

The conversation continued with speculation about my connection to the pack, and I fought the urge to explain that it was merely professional courtesy. Instead, I focused on organizing my notes, pretending I couldn’t hear every word with perfect clarity.

The winter sunlight slanted through the conference room windows, casting long rectangles of pale gold across my notes. I’d spent hours last night highlighting key sections of the project outline, preparing questions, and reviewing rural healthcare statistics. Work had always

been my refuge-now more than ever.

I glanced up from my papers as Professor Andrews continued detailing the project goals. Matthew sat beside him, occasionally adding insights about Spring Valley’s specific needs. His deep voice carried easily across the table, commanding attention without obvious effort.

“The primary challenge,” Professor Andrews was saying, “is creating preventative care systems that work within existing cultural frameworks. Rural communities often have their own approaches to healthcare that need to be respected while still introducing modern

practices.”

I jotted down notes, grateful for the mechanical motion of pen against paper. Each word I wrote was one more barrier between me and the hollow ache that had become my constant companion since breaking things off with Daniel. Since being forced to break things off, I

corrected myself bitterly.

‘Julia,’ Professor Andrews said suddenly, “would you mind sharing some of your experiences with rural clinic rotations? I believe you had some innovative observations in your final paper last semester.”

I straightened, momentarily startled at being put on the spot. But as I began speaking about the challenges I’d encountered during my clinical rotation at a small farming community clinic, my voice grew steadier. This, at least, was something I knew,

“The biggest obstacle we faced wasn’t necessarily lack of resources, though that was significant,” I explained, meeting the gazes of the hospital administrators from Spring Valley. “It was the disconnect between how healthcare providers communicated information and how community members received it. Medical jargon creates immediate barriers, but so does ignoring local knowledge and traditions.”

A woman in Spring Valley scrubs nodded approvingly. “That’s exactly what we’ve found. You can have the best program in the world, but if it’s not culturally accessible, it might as well not exist.”

For nearly fifteen minutes, I found myself at the center of a productive discussion about rural healthcare accessibility. My tension eased

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Chapter 65

as I spoke about something that mattered to me, something that had nothing to do with pack politics or broken hearts.

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“What about community education programs?” Matthew asked, his eyes meeting mine directly. “Do you think there’s value in training local

residents as health advocates rather than bringing in outside professionals?”

I took a deep breath before answering, fighting the nervous tension that seized my chest whenever he looked at me. Nathan’s shadow still

loomed large in my mind, making any direct eye contact with an Alpha trigger an almost PTSD-like reaction. My palms felt clammy as I

forced myself to meet Matthew’s gaze. “Absolutely. In my experience, programs that identify and empower local leaders are far more

sustainable. I’d suggest creating something that builds on existing community gatherings-maybe integrating health education into events

that already have cultural significance.”

Matthew nodded thoughtfully. “That’s an interesting approach. Spring Valley has several annual festivals that could serve as platforms for

health education.”

A flutter of pride warmed my chest. It felt good-incredibly good-to be taken seriously, to have my ideas considered valuable.

As the discussion continued, I noticed Matthew glancing my way occasionally, his expression unreadable.

Professor Andrews eventually called for a fifteen-minute break. People scattered, heading for the coffee and pastries set up along the back wall. I remained seated, reorganizing my notes and avoiding conversation. The last thing I wanted was small talk and the inevitable

questions about how my break had been.

From the corner of my eye, I saw two classmates huddled together, casting concerned glances my way. One whispered something about Daniel’s absence, and I gripped my pen tighter. Since returning to campus, I’d been asked about Daniel by three different people. Each time, I’d managed a tight smile and a vague answer about “taking time apart.”

I felt trapped between two impossible options: discuss the breakup and relive the pain, or avoid the topic and endure everyone’s worried

glances and whispered speculations.

A shadow fell across my notes. I looked up to find Matthew standing there, two coffee cups in hand. He offered one to me with a polite

smile.

“Cream, no sugar,” he said. “I noticed that’s how you took it at the scholarship committee meeting last fall.”

Surprised that he’d remembered such a detail, I accepted the cup with a murmured thank you. Matthew sat in the empty chair beside me, maintaining a respectful distance. The scent of pine and something uniquely woodsy drifted from him, pleasant but not overwhelming.

“Your insights on community integration are quite valuable,” he said. “Spring Valley could benefit from that approach.”

“Thank you,” I replied, sipping the coffee to hide my discomfort at the unexpected attention.

We sat in awkward silence for a moment before Matthew spoke again. “By the way, I don’t see Daniel here. Is he doing alright?”

My fingers tightened around the pen I was holding until my knuckles turned white. The coffee in my cup trembled slightly. Inside me, Kaia let out a warning growl, sensing the surge of emotion his innocent question had triggered.

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I looked up sharply, meeting his eyes. Something snapped inside me-a dam breaking after weeks of pressure.

“Why?” I asked, my voice starting quiet but rapidly gaining volume. “Why does everyone keep asking about him?”

Matthew blinked, clearly startled by my reaction.

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“Am I his keeper?” I continued, slamming my pen down on the table. “Am I some sort of appendage that can’t possibly exist without him?

Do people think I have no identity or value beyond being Daniel’s girlfriend?”

I stood up, my hands braced against the table. “I am a whole person! I have a name, a career, opinions, and skills that have nothing to do

with who I am or am not dating!”

The conference room had fallen silent, all eyes on me. The rational part of my brain screamed at me to stop, but weeks of accumulated

frustration and grief poured out uncontrollably.

“My existence does not need to be defined through someone else!” My voice cracked on the last word.

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From Rejected Mate to Luna