The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 345

Third Person's POV

Trista set down her silver fork, her tone turning blunt and jagged. "Cassian, did it ever occur to you that I barely touch the food whenever we come to these fancy places? I hate the food here. Every time I finish playing the part for you, I have to go home and find something real to eat."

Cassian's expression soured. He stared at the expensive, untouched entree.

"I only sat here and pretended to enjoy it because you liked it," Trista said with a bitter laugh. "But you're not worth the performance anymore. I hate this place. Every bite feels like a waste of my time."

Cassian's hand gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white.

He looked down and took a deep breath, avoiding her overly perceptive gaze. When he looked up, his eyes were bloodshot.

"If you don't have an appetite, don't force it," he said, his voice hoarse. "At least try the matcha truffles. You used to beg for those."

The corners of Trista's mouth curled into a cold smirk. "Did you forget? I haven't touched those since you told me to 'leave it to the professionals.'"

Cassian slumped back into his chair, feeling like he'd been stabbed.

He remembered that afternoon. Trista had been so excited, asking him if he'd ever make matcha truffles for her from scratch. He'd been so preoccupied with Samantha that he'd brushed her off, telling her that the restaurant chefs were professionals for a reason—if she wanted them, she should just go buy them.

He hadn't realized then that Trista had already seen the photo of the cake he'd baked for Samantha.

She had been testing him, hoping her Alpha would lower his guard for her just once.

But he had shut her down completely.

They'd had a massive fight after that.

Since then, no matter how expensive the desserts he bought were, she wouldn't even look at them.

Looking back at his own arrogance, Cassian felt sick.

Seeing her so completely done with him, he stood up, his movements almost frantic. "Fine. If you're not eating, let's go."

They walked out of the restaurant into the night air. The atmosphere between them was suffocating.

The "peaceful" final weekend they'd planned was a total wreck, buried under layers of old wounds and heavy silences.

Cassian stood under a streetlight, watching Trista.

He finally realized that the rift of "trust" was too wide to ever bridge.

"Let's just go home," Trista said, watching the distant neon signs. "Tomorrow morning, we finish the procedure."

As she turned to leave, Cassian lunged forward and pulled her into a tight embrace from behind.

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