Chapter 3: Strangers under one Roof

George didn’t sleep a wink that night. No matter how many pills he took, rest refused to come. His mind kept circling back to Emily and how things had gotten so bad she’d found another woman to replace herself without his consent.

By morning, he was still lying in the same position, a hollow weight pressing against his chest. The bed, their bed—felt too large now, too cold. Her absence wasn’t a shock anymore. It had become a dull ache that clung to the walls of the house like frost.

Then it hit him: he wasn’t alone.

There was a stranger in his home.

The aroma of fresh coffee reached him, subtle but jarring.

When he descended the stairs, he found Luna in the kitchen, standing at the stove like she belonged there. She wore a soft gray sweater and black slacks, her long hair tied loosely behind her. The smell of eggs and toast filled the air.

“I didn’t ask for this,” George muttered.

Luna didn’t turn. “I know.”

“Then why are you acting like this is normal?”

She finally glanced at him, her eyes calm but unreadable.

“Because if I act like it isn’t, everything falls apart faster. And we don’t want that.”

George hesitated, unsettled by her quiet pragmatism. He moved to the table and sat down without another word. She placed a simple, perfectly prepared plate in front of him, then returned to her seat across the table.

“Eat if you want,” Luna said coolly. She didn’t care if George joined her or not. She was here to do a job, and she intended to do it well.

He watched her for a moment, silently observing how she ate with ease, like it was the best meal she’d had in weeks. Eventually, he picked up his fork and began to eat, too.

They sat in silence, the only sound being the steady ticking of the antique wall clock.

“Where did you meet Emily?” George asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Luna paused and set her fork down neatly.

“I didn’t,” she replied. “I work under an agency. I’m just doing my job.”

Her tone was cold, detached. She knew he’d have questions. And she was ready to answer them because she knew how these contract marriages worked all too well.

George scoffed. “And this is what your company does? Marries people off without their consent?”

“She didn’t ask for much. Just presence. Discretion. Patience.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “She asked you to live in my house and pretend to be my wife.”

“She asked me to protect the image of your marriage. And to give you the privilege to explore.”

George stared at her, trying to make sense of the woman in front of him. “You talk like you’re reading from a contract.”

Luna gave the faintest smile. “I keep things simple. Feelings complicate what’s already messy.”

There it was again that unnerving calm. No cracks in her tone. No hesitation. But for a brief moment, something flickered in her eyes. Sadness? No something older. Wiser.

George leaned back in his chair. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Probably not,” she said. “But we’re still doing it.”

He didn’t know whether to be angry at her—or impressed.

He hated how she talked back, but somehow, he found it...challenging. And deep down, he didn’t mind.

Later That Day

George avoided the guest room. Just knowing Luna was in there reading, rearranging, living made the house feel unfamiliar. He locked himself away in his study, flipping aimlessly through files, trying to bury himself in work. But the paperwork blurred together, his thoughts circling back to Emily.

Why had she done this?

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out their wedding photo. Her smile had been real back then... hadn’t it? He touched the glass as if it might offer warmth.

A knock broke the silence.

He didn’t answer.

Luna’s voice came softly through the door. “Dinner’s ready. I’ll leave it on the table.”

He waited until her footsteps retreated before stepping out.

The table was set for two, but only one plate remained. She had already eaten no pressure, no expectations.

The gesture was simple.

And yet, it gnawed at him.

That Night

George found himself outside the guest room door again.

He knocked once, quietly.

Luna opened it without surprise. “Can’t sleep?”

He hesitated, then nodded.

She didn’t invite him in. Instead, she stepped out and joined him in the hallway.

“I want to ask you something,” he said.

“Go ahead.”

“Why you? Why did she pick you for this?”

Luna looked up at him, unreadable.

“Because I don’t ask questions I don’t want answers to. And I know how to disappear without leaving.”

George frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It will, soon.”

And with that, she turned and walked down the hallway toward the stairs, silent as ever.

George watched her go, a strange chill crawling up his spine.

For the first time, he realized something unsettling.

Luna didn’t just carry secrets.

She was one.