The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 151

Chapter 151

Trista’s POV:

Wrapped in Cassian’s arms, I felt completely numb. 

I tried to force a smile, but my throat was so dry it felt like I’d swallowed sand. 

I couldn’t make a sound. From now on, I wasn’t his childhood playmate anymore–the girl who wrestled and bled with him on the pack square, the one who got scolded alongside him for being “wild pups.” I wasn’t the mate who had sworn her life to him before the Moon Goddess, the she–wolf he’d promised to protect forever. 

From now on, I was just a she–wolf with a title: Luna Trista. 

I had to play along. I had to be “reasonable,” “understanding,” and “forgiving.” 

I wasn’t allowed to cry or make a scene. I couldn’t afford to break down in front of anyone. 

My job was to maintain his image as a stable Alpha, to uphold the dignity of Ironthorn, and to tolerate Samantha and her son living comfortably in LA. I had to watch them walk in and out of our house, bringing a scent into our territory that made my wolf want to snap, and I had to act like it was perfectly normal. 

I was nothing more than a layer of polish over the truth. A human shield standing at the front line. 

“I’ll go get the bath ready for you.” 

His voice pulled me back from the shadows of my own mind. 

He led me into the bathroom, where I watched him roll up his sleeves, check the water temperature, and fill the tub. He laid out a soft towel with a practiced ease, as if this were just another part of a routine we’d performed a thousand times. 

After my bath, I sat obediently on the edge of the bed. I let him stand behind me, methodically blow–drying my hair, chasing the dampness away inch by inch. Finally, he picked me up and tucked me into the center of the bed. 

To his credit, he just held me while we slept. He didn’t push for anything more, didn’t add another layer of suffocation to the chains already around me. 

The bedroom was dark, save for the soft glow of the bedside lamp. 

I lay there in his arms, staring at that small sliver of light. 

There’s no such thing as being “awake” without feeling the sting of it. 

I finally got it: “Growing up” just means breaking yourself down, piece by piece. Tearing away the delusions, the fantasies, and that tiny bit of innocence that still dares to reach for something more–until all that’s left is a hollow shell that knows how to obey. 

I barely slept. 

As soon as the first gray light of dawn crept through the curtains, I tried to slip out of his arms and get out of bed. 

My mother had been moved to a regular ward last night. I had to see her. 

Suddenly, a hand clamped around my waist, pulling me back with effortless strength. 

The tension that had been coiled in my chest all night finally loosened a fraction. One of the heavy stones on my heart was lifted. 

Then, Cassian casually brought something else up. “Dr. Sparrow is flying back to France today. I need to see him off and thank him in person. You’ve always had an eye for this–pick out a suit for me.” 

I didn’t move. 

The request sounded mundane, but it was like a needle slid under my skin. 

He was reminding me that Dr. Sparrow hadn’t flown across the ocean for the “glory of Silverlight.” He came because of Cassian. My mother’s life was effectively a gift from Ironthorn. 

I pulled my hand out of his grip without a word and walked into the walk–in closet. 

It was filled with his things–suits lined up like soldiers, shirts organized by color, long coats that were almost identical. Everything was precise, cold, and calculated. No room for error. 

When we first mated, I used to complain that his shirts were either black or white, like he was a walking billboard for a funeral home. I tried to change him. I bought him colored shirts, trying to soften his edges. 

I’d flirt, I’d pout, I’d even give him the silent treatment just to get him to wear something I picked out. 

The result? Those shirts stayed in a corner of the closet, never once leaving their hangers. 

Eventually, after three years of seeing him in the same black–and–white uniform, I just got used to it. I got so used to it that I forgot I never actually liked it in the first place.