The Rejected Luna (Avery and Kaden) novel Chapter 185

**Between the Wings of Twilight Lies the Memory of You**

I had never imagined I would find myself in such a perplexing situation. In the past, I was acutely aware of how Steven viewed me; to him, I was nothing more than a mere cog in the machinery of his ambitions, a necessary component in a business arrangement rather than a cherished partner. In what felt like another lifetime, I had clung to him with an intensity that bordered on desperation, unwilling to sever the fragile threads that connected us, even as they frayed and strained under the weight of his indifference.

But now, in this moment, particularly after the biting words he had uttered earlier, I was beginning to peel back the layers of illusion. I saw him for who he truly was: a selfish bastard, a man who craved all the pleasures life had to offer, blissfully ignorant of the consequences that trailed behind him like a shadow.

As I stared up at him, a tempest of thoughts swirled in my mind, each one more chaotic than the last. One instant, clarity washed over me like a gentle tide, and the next, I felt myself teetering on the precipice of despair. My words came slowly, each syllable weighed down by the heaviness of my emotions, my eyelids growing heavy, threatening to succumb to the exhaustion that enveloped me.

“That son of a bitch… Who wouldn’t regret marrying him? My insides feel like they’re tied in knots with regret—mmph!”

Before I could fully articulate the whirlwind of frustration bubbling inside me, he lunged forward, his body crashing against mine with an urgency that took me by surprise. It was as if he had reached a breaking point, and in that fleeting moment, he pressed his lips against mine—hard, desperate, and unyielding.

I had been teetering on the edge of consciousness, but that kiss jolted me into a stunned silence. My thoughts raced frantically. *Why would Horace kiss me?* Yet, my gaze was drawn to Steven, whose face twisted into a mask of fury and frustration, leaving me increasingly uneasy.

The kiss was fierce, bordering on brutal. Initially taken aback, I instinctively began to push him away, but his long, powerful fingers ensnared my wrists, pinning them above my head with an iron grip. He held me captive, kissing me as if he intended to consume my very essence, leaving me breathless and trapped in a whirlwind of sensation, unable to break free. Suddenly, my vision faded to black, and the overwhelming force of the kiss sent me spiraling into unconsciousness.

When I finally awoke the next day, I shot upright in bed, my heart racing like a drum in my chest. My long, curly hair was a wild tangle over my shoulders, and I blinked in confusion, taking in my surroundings. This was undoubtedly Rachel’s apartment; the familiar decor and comforting scent reassured me that I had made it back.

So, Horace must have brought me home, I thought. But then a peculiar memory flickered in my mind—a dream where Horace, wearing Steven’s face, had guided me back. He had kissed me, fiercely, and I could almost feel the warmth of his tongue lingering on my lips…

I slapped my cheeks, trying to dispel the lingering sensation that clung to my lips like a ghost. I frowned, muttering to myself, “That felt way too real. What is wrong with me? Am I still caught up in thoughts of Steven?”

It seemed utterly impossible. The only thing I truly desired from him was for him to simply drop dead.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up, still clad in the clothes from yesterday. It was Saturday, a day that beckoned for leisurely pursuits. I took my time in the shower, letting the warm water wash away the remnants of the previous day while I cleaned the apartment and tossed a load of laundry into the machine. I glanced at Rachel’s door, which remained firmly closed; there was no indication of life on the other side.

09:06

**Chapter 185**

I decided against disturbing her.

Antonia! That girl was someone who needed help with the simplest of tasks, let alone the ability to create a piece of art.

I clenched my jaw, irritation flaring within me. I instructed my acquaintance to hold onto the pony for me, assuring her I would come by to collect it later. After hanging up, a storm of emotions brewed inside me. I quickly changed my clothes and hurried to the exhibition hall.

My mother had always adored crafting, especially small animal figurines. Part of my dowry consisted of a set of the twelve zodiac animals she had meticulously carved with her own hands. I had taken half with me, leaving the other half with her, a bittersweet reminder of her talent and love.

In the aftermath of the chaotic events that had unfolded, I found myself standing at a crossroads of self-discovery and empowerment. The tumultuous feelings toward Steven, once a source of despair, had transformed into a catalyst for change. I had begun to realize that my worth was not defined by his perception of me, nor by the tangled web of our past. Instead, I embraced the lessons learned from the pain, using them to fuel my determination to reclaim my narrative. The kiss from Horace, though unexpected and confusing, served as a reminder that I was still capable of feeling deeply, even amidst the shadows of my heartache. I was no longer a mere cog in someone else’s machine; I was ready to step into the light and forge my own path.

As I made my way to the exhibition hall, the weight of my mother’s artistry and legacy filled me with purpose. The discovery of her heirloom piece reignited a fire within me, prompting me to confront not only the ghosts of my past but also the impending challenges ahead. I was no longer willing to be a passive participant in my own life; I would seize this opportunity to assert my identity and reclaim what was rightfully mine. With each step, I felt the echoes of my past dissipate, giving way to a newfound resolve. The memory of Steven, once a haunting presence, was now a distant murmur, overshadowed by the vibrant possibilities that lay ahead. I was ready to embrace the future, armed with the strength of my memories and the promise of my own making.

**What to Expect in the Next Chapter?**

As Zephyra races to the exhibition hall, the tension builds, leaving readers on the edge of their seats. Will she confront Antonia, the unexpected creator of the art piece that holds so much sentimental value? The air is thick with anticipation as Zephyra’s emotions flare—her irritation towards Antonia is palpable, but so is her desperation to reclaim her mother’s cherished heirloom. The stakes are high, and the looming birthday banquet adds an extra layer of urgency to her mission. How will Zephyra navigate this confrontation, and what revelations might await her as she digs deeper into Antonia’s sudden artistic prowess?

Moreover, the unresolved feelings between Zephyra, Steven, and Horace promise to complicate matters further. With the memory of the intense kiss still lingering in her mind, Zephyra finds herself grappling with her emotions, questioning her desires and the true nature of her relationships. Will the upcoming banquet serve as a catalyst for confrontation, or will it unveil deeper secrets that have been buried beneath the surface? As the narrative unfolds, readers can expect a whirlwind of emotions, unexpected alliances, and perhaps even a reckoning that could alter the course of Zephyra’s life forever. The stage is set for a dramatic showdown, and the next chapter promises to deliver the answers—and conflicts—that have been brewing in the shadows.