His Only Luna

ASTRID

My fingers tremble with fear and frustration as I dial my husband’s number for the fiftieth time tonight.

No answer. Once again, I’ve been sent to voicemail.

I catch my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows and can’t help but feel sorry for myself. My makeup and perfectly coiffed hair seem to mock me, screaming that once again, I have wasted time, money and effort on a man who might never love me.

“The food has been served, the guests are here and the decor seems perfect, but once again, there’s no husband.” My mother sneers. “Didn’t this happen last year? You organized a feast but as usual, Nathan did not show up. What a shame!”

At her harsh words, my cheeks redden in embarrassment and my eyes burn with unshed tears. Why are you doing this to me, Nathan?

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon, mother. He’s probably stuck in traffic.”

She scoffs.

“Stuck in traffic? Do you realize that this is the exact excuse you made up for him last year but he showed up after midnight drunk as a horse and stinking of another woman’s perfume?!”

I flinch, shocked at the bitterness in her tone. My mother's grey eyes gleam sharply, matching the expensive diamond necklace that adorns her lean neck. Her chin is raised as she pins me with a mildly hateful look.

I should be used to it by now — the hateful looks, the harsh words, the manipulation. I should be used to all of it. But sadly, the little unloved orphan girl inside of me is still very much alive, and she still yearns to feel a mother’s affection.

Maybe it’s high time I accepted that my mother’s affection is only reserved for her beloved biological daughter, Claire Montessori.

The room is oddly silent as the guests lower their heads, appalled but not surprised by my mother’s behaviour.

After all, they all know that I’m just the useless adopted daughter. The Montessori family does not really give a shit about me.

Another hour passes, shrouded in tension but Nathan doesn’t show up.

“Oh, what’s the point?!” Mother snaps, getting to her feet. “This sham of a party was just a waste of my precious time. I’m leaving. And next time, Astrid, do not invite me to your anniversary celebration if you know that your good for nothing husband will not show up.”

That statement feels like poison to my veins.

I should let her leave, even walk her to the door. But I’m slowly breaking inside and all I want is for my mother to hold and comfort me.

“Mum, can you please wait for five more minutes? I’m sure he’s on his way.”

“Uh… Astrid?” My cousin, Maria, rises to her feet, her eyes wide as saucers and fixated on her phone.

Immediately, my instincts signal that something’s wrong.

A thousand horrible scenarios cripple my mind as I hurry towards her.

“Maria, what’s wrong? Is it Nathan? Did something happen to my husband?”

She finally looks at me, her face twisted in a sad expression.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so, so sorry.”

I remain frozen, my knees trembling as blood whooshes loudly in my ears.

“What are you sorry for? What happened?”

Slowly, Maria turns the phone to me and I’m immediately thankful that it’s a picture and not a text.

My eyes rove over the screen as I struggle to understand what I’m looking at. Why is Maria showing me a picture of a rich, happy couple on a cruise ship?

Finally, it dawns on me that the man in the photo seems strangely familiar.

My lips part in a soundless gasp as I grab Maria’s arm and pull the phone closer to my face, unable to believe my eyes.

“Wh-what’s going on here? Is that…?”

Nathan.

I recognize him almost immediately. His brown hair and the skull tattoo on his neck pretty much gives him away.

He’s wearing his favorite suit — the eight thousand dollar Armani suit that I bought for him on his birthday just a month ago.

My heart thumps at a horrifying pace as it slowly dawns on me that my husband, the man whom I love more than anyone else in the world, is currently on his knees, holding out an expensive ring to another woman.

His wide, happy smile shatters my heart to a million pieces. I cannot even remember the last time Nathan genuinely smiled at me. The past months of our marriage have been filled with endless quarrels and bitter arguments.

The woman in the photo looks stunning in a short white dress. Her face is covered in shadows, making it difficult to tell who she is.

But there’s something oddly familiar about her. Those fingers… I’ve seen this woman somewhere before.

I take a deep breath, trying and failing horribly to calm myself down.

“Maria, is this the only picture you’ve got? I can’t see the woman’s face.”

My cousin’s eyes are filled with pity but she silently takes the phone from me and scrolls to the next video.

I’m pretty sure I’m on the verge of having a heart attack as I watch my husband go on his knees while the woman’s friends cheer and take videos of the happy couple in the background. Are they aware that he has a wife at home?

Two seconds later, nothing prepares me for the shock I experience when the camera finally captures the blushing bride-to-be.

For long, long moments, time stands still. My eyes are frozen on her glowing milk-white skin and those familiar almond shaped eyes. Her blinding, happy smile hits me like a deadly punch to my guts.

Nathan’s bride-to-be is none other than Claire Montessori. My one and only big sister.

I’m physically trembling as I watch Claire stretch her left hand to happily accept my husband’s ring. Nathan gets to his feet and pulls her into a long, sloppy, passionate kiss.

Anger and betrayal burn like acid in my bloodstream. I stumble backwards and the phone slips from my fingers, shattering on the shiny marble floors.

Suddenly, it all starts to makes sense. The late nights, the constant quarreling, the way my husband repeatedly compares me to my adoptive sister;

“I love Claire’s blonde hair. You should consider dyeing your hair blonde.”

“Did you watch Claire’s presentation today? She’s one intelligent woman. I wish you had half her confidence...”

“Claire’s pot roast is delicious. Why can’t you cook like her…?”

For months, I silently swallowed the backhanded criticisms, blissfully unaware that the man I fed with my money for two years when he had nothing was secretly in love with my sister. God, I’ve been so stupid.

So, so stupid.

How long has he been planning to do this? While I woke up every morning, prepared to fight for my marriage and depressed that things were not working out between us, my husband was busy plotting to propose to my own sister…

Maria’s voice breaks into my subconscious, but I’m too busy sinking into despair to respond.

“Astrid, are you okay? Talk to me, baby…”

I open my mouth to speak but tears blur my vision and choke me into painful silence. I can hear my parents murmur in the background. Are they aware that their perfect, beloved daughter just accepted an engagement ring from her sister’s husband?

The reality of my situation crashes down on me and suddenly, I feel lightheaded.

“I need to sit down.” I mumble, swaying on my feet while reaching for the sofa.

“Astrid?! Somebody call 9-1-1! She’s about to pass out.”

My bad luck is probably at play again because I don’t make it to the sofa. Instead, I trip on the carpet and almost collapse face first on the floor.

Thankfully, strong arms wrap around my middle just in time to break my fall. Despite the darkness that clouds my brain, I’m conscious of the fact that I’m safely cradled against a stranger’s rigid, heated chest.

But even the comforting scent of his expensive cologne cannot erase the fact that my husband just asked my adoptive sister to be his wife on the very same day he proposed to me just three years ago…

Coincidence?