Luna Simmons

Mauve,

"Listen, Mauve! You can't tell anyone that your Dad hurts you, okay? It will ruin his reputation and he will lose his job! You understand, right?" my mother whispered while grabbing a few sourdough bread from the basket.

"But Mommy! It hurts. Today, Emilia stabbed me with her pen too. Can you say something to her as well?" I asked, my voice shaking, eyes still stinging from earlier tears.

"No!" she snapped, turning to face me with eyes sharp as needles. "Listen, Mauve. To get stronger, you must endure pain. You aren't allowed to talk about it to anyone. If she hurts you, bite your tongue and suck it up."

"But it hurts!" My fingers clutched the tablecloth, small knuckles white from tension.

"Then let it be! God dammit!" She slammed the basket down so hard the bread tumbled out. "If you can't endure that much pain, then eat some wolfsbane and die!"

"Miss! We have arrived!"

I woke up with a sharp gasp, my heart pounding. The chauffeur’s voice felt like a blade slicing through my chest as I blinked against the overhead lights. My fingers trembled, clutching the hem of the designer gown Alessandro had sent—hand-sewn, couture, elegant—but suddenly suffocating. I pushed out a breath as I stepped onto the red carpet that led toward the cruise ship.

The heels clicked against the hard surface, echoing louder than the pulse in my ears. A hint of hesitation held me still. I couldn't see anyone—no Alessandro, no welcome, no warmth. Just silence.

Then an arm wrapped around my waist—firm, not gentle. Possessive, not affectionate.

"Make sure you don't mess up today. Tomorrow, we’ll discuss the divorce."

His voice slithered into my ear, cold and calculated, right before the lights exploded around us. Reporters, flashes, cameras, all fighting for the perfect shot of the perfectly fake couple.

I nodded, lips curling into a practiced smile. “Okay.”

"Good."

We walked in sync, or pretended to. His grip never loosened, like a leash more than a lifeline. But halfway toward the ship, Alessandro suddenly stopped. I stumbled, nearly losing my balance.

"Be careful! Don’t embarrass me," he hissed under his breath, catching me.

"You slowed down," I murmured back, breathless.

"It’s because—"

"Hi!" Evelyn’s voice sliced between us. My heart dropped. She was behind us now, perfectly styled and clinging onto Alessandro’s arm like she'd never let go. Her perfume clouded the air.

Reporters swarmed with questions.

“Mr. Simmons’ first love has returned! Are they getting back together?”

Alessandro stiffened beside me, his mask of indifference cracking slightly. He hated attention on his personal life. But when he turned to Evelyn, I saw something softer in his eyes. Something he never gave me.

“Where’s your mate?” he asked.

Evelyn blinked, caught off-guard. She chuckled—forced and fake. “I told you, it’s a surprise. For now, be my partner until then!”

Without waiting, she pulled Alessandro closer and walked toward the ship, dragging him with her. He let go of my hand.

“Come with me!” he said over his shoulder, but the words felt like a courtesy, not an invitation.

It didn’t go unnoticed. The cameras captured every second—his departure, her arrival, my abandoned presence.

It shouldn't have hurt. He promised me a divorce. I should’ve felt relieved. But the truth stung like vinegar in an open wound. Being left out by someone I loved—it still cracked something deep inside me.

The guards held the reporters back as I finally boarded. Alone.

The cruise was grand—too grand. Crystal chandeliers reflected off polished floors. Gold-trimmed railings and an orchestra playing something slow and haunting. I felt small. Shrinking.

They looked at me first with curiosity, then suspicion. Whispers.

"You don’t smell like us. Are you human?"

They didn’t even wait for an answer. Just turned and walked away like I was something rotten left out in the sun.

I drifted to the deck, letting the ocean breeze kiss my face. Salty. Cold. Comforting in its indifference.

A waiter approached, offering champagne.

"I don’t drink alcohol. Do you have anything else?"

His brows raised but he nodded, polite. "Non-alcoholic drinks will be brought shortly."

“Thank you,” I said quietly, folding my hands in front of me.

I let the waves distract me, eyes trailing the distant skyline. I thought I might enjoy the night—alone, with a sweet drink, soaking in the lights.

But peace didn’t last long.

"There you are."

The words hit like a slap. Luna Simmons stormed toward me, heels loud, face twisted in restrained rage. She was stunning in red—but her eyes were daggers. And they were aimed straight at my chest.

"Have you any idea what you’ve done?" she barked, drawing close.

My spine straightened. “What do you mean?”

"You were supposed to stay with Alessandro. Leaving him to be seen with his ex-lover? Now the guests think he left his wife for her! Are you completely brain-dead or just that pathetically selfish?"

My breath caught. The words rang too loud in my ears. "I didn’t leave him," I said, voice still steady. "He went ahead with Evelyn. I couldn’t catch up—"

"Excuses!" she snarled. "You think you're a victim now? What exactly do you think you are, Mauve? A charity case we adopted to make ourselves look kind?"

My heart began to race. People were starting to glance our way.

"You’re a nobody," she hissed. "Your background’s filthy. Your kind grovels for scraps. And now you think wearing our money and using our name makes you royalty? You’ll always be the same rat our son pitied enough to wed."

Something twisted in my gut. The air felt heavier, poisoned.

"You're standing on a ship built for kings, and you reek of alleyway trash. I can smell it on you."

Her words stabbed deeper than I expected. Not because I believed her—but because she knew exactly where to aim. The poverty. The pain. The dirt under my nails I used to hide with foundation.

"If your mother had any decency, she would've drowned you in a basin rather than raise a daughter who clings to men like barnacles on a ship!"

The sting in my eyes burned. My chest tightened.

"Come with me now, or I will personally make sure you’re banned from every royal event again. I’ll rip that contract and toss you back where you came from. You think being Alessandro's wife makes you worthy? He never wanted you! You were convenient!"

My hands clenched. “Stop,” I whispered. I couldn't fathom how she knew about the contract and everything else.

"No," she said, eyes wild. "I have had enough of pretending you're part of this family. You were a substitute, nothing more. Do you think any of these people would speak to you if they knew what kind of home you came from? That your own father beat you and your mother blamed you for it? That you were raised to bite your tongue when stabbed by classmates?"

I froze. The dream. How did she—?

"You’re disgusting. You're the story people whisper at galas to make themselves feel better."

“Stop,” I said again, louder.

Her mouth curled in mockery. “What will you do? Cry? Ruin your makeup and look even more pathetic?”

She turned, waving her hand. “Try not to embarrass the Simmons name further. That’s all you were good for—being quiet and looking pretty. But even that, you’ve failed tonight. Now Go back to Alessandro and fix your fucking mistake!”

She walked off, heels echoing like thunder.

I stood there, motionless, air caught in my lungs, vision blurry. My fingers trembled as the waiter returned with a drink I couldn’t taste anymore.

"Miss?" he asked. " Your drink?"

" Sorry. I don't feel like it!" I moved to follow her, my body shaking.

But I paused when the waiter said, " You are so beautiful, Miss! Have a good time!"