The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 63

Cassian’s POV

I hit Trista’s office first.

The healer at the front desk told me she wasn’t in her room or the conference area.

A faint scent of her lingered–clean, hushed cedar and tea, barely surviving the disinfectant.

My wolf raised its head, anxious to follow that trace, but the trail went cold.

I pulled out my comm–stone and sent a link request.

I didn’t expect much.

She’d been radio silent for a solid week, like she’d cut every line connecting us.

When the rune lit up, I actually paused.

She accepted.

“Where are you?” I forced my voice steady, locking my wolf’s agitation out of the mental channel.

“The garden behind the inpatient unit,” she replied.

Finished

Her voice was soft, unnervingly calm, carrying no discernible emotion. But it made my wolf instantly quiet, ears pricked.

I followed her scent trail until I found her.

The small garden behind the unit was quiet.

A narrow stream cut through the grass. The shimmering fragments by the weeds.

Trista stood by the water, her back

ater

the building

rept along. The sun hit the surface, broken into

The wind messed up her hair, but she didn’t fix it. She just stood there, still.

My entire life, I’d seen her running toward me countless times.

Happy, she’d bolt across the yard, leap, hang on my neck, shoving good news into my ear.

Upset, she’d corner me after training, eyes red, burying her face in my chest, sobbing out her scent all over

my gear.

She never stopped moving toward me..

As long as I caught her, even if I was annoyed, warned her, or scolded her, she was fine–it meant I was keeping her.

Now, I was the one walking to her.

“Trista.”

15:30 Fri, Dec 26

Chapter 63

I stopped short, not daring to get too close.

65%

Finished

The wind blew off the water. The corner of her eye was wet. A tear flashed on her lashes, then slid down her pale cheek.

My wolf let out a deep, low whine.

I reached out to wipe the tear away.

She tilted her head, smoothly dodging my touch.

I confined myself to holding her shoulders. “Let’s find a seat,” I said. “We need a real conversation.”

She pulled out of my grasp. The move wasn’t hard, but it was final.

“I’m fine,” she forced a small, bitter curve to her mouth. “Just thinking about when I was little.”

We didn’t sit. We just stood by the stream. She watched the slow water. I focused only on her.

My memory yanked back to the past.

For years, she would embrace me without hesitation, regardless of the audience or the occasion.

It was only since Samantha showed up that Trista stopped initiating contact.

Even when I returned to the old manor, she was simply polite, keeping that perfect distance, no longer rushing ahead of everyone to throw herself into my arms.

A sense of loss I hadn’t acknowledged crept into my voice.

“Trista,” I said. “I’m done explaining Samantha and her son.”

Her shoulder twitched, but she didn’t look at me.

“But we’ve been mated for three years,” I pressed. “Even if you have zero trust left, give us some time to breathe. Don’t rush the mating bond termination. Can we do that?”

“Cassian.” She finally met my gaze. Her tone was flat, calm–no anger, no hysteria. “When I first found out about Samantha and the child, I wasn’t calm at all.”

“I was up all night. I couldn’t stop spiraling to the worst possible outcome.”

She said, “I yelled at you. I lost control. I even considered ending my life.”

My wolf nervously paced in my mind, claws scraping the stone edge, desperate to pull her into my territory.

I reached for her hand, my movement clumsy with care afraid she’d dodge again.

She did.

She stepped back, leaving my hand empty.

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