Mine

My expression was blank, but my eyes were questioning. What did he want? Was he just going to stand there and say nothing?

"Can I come in?" he finally asked.

This was his house. Why was he acting so...gentle? I hesitated, then stepped aside and let him walk into my room.

"You're all dressed up," I said, folding my arms across my chest, keeping my tone neutral.

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes dropped to the small velvet box in his hand. He looked unsure of himself, like he was second-guessing why he’d come in the first place.

Then, without a word, he stepped forward and held the box out to me.

I blinked, confused. “What’s that?”

Still no answer. He was acting strange—more reserved than usual. He took one more step closer.

“Turn around,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just… turn, please.” His voice had shifted—softer now, almost pleading.

I hesitated. Part of me resisted just because he asked. But curiosity—and maybe something warmer—got the better of me. So, I turned around.

He stepped behind me, and the air between us grew heavy. It felt charged, like something was about to happen. Then I heard the soft click of the box opening.

My breath caught when I felt cool metal brush against my skin. A chain—light and delicate. But the second it touched my collarbone, I could tell this wasn’t some simple trinket. It felt expensive. Intentional. A statement.

He fastened it slowly, carefully, like he was trying not to touch too much. But I still felt the slight tremble in his hands.

When I turned to face him again, he had stepped back, just enough to watch my reaction.

I reached up and touched the necklace. It was beautiful—silver, with tiny diamond-like stones that caught the light with every movement. I had never worn anything like it. Never even imagined I would.

“It’s beautiful,” I said quietly. “But you didn’t have to buy me a necklace.”

His expression flickered. Was that frustration?

He let out a breath and ran his fingers along his temple, like he was trying to stop himself from saying something harsh.

“I know,” he muttered. Then he stepped forward again and gently turned me to face him. His eyes met mine, more open than I’d ever seen them.

“But I wanted to,” he said. “You’re going to be standing beside me tonight. As Luna.”

I looked away. That word—it still didn’t feel real. Luna. His Luna.

He moved closer, closing the gap between us.

“And when people see you tonight,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “I want them to know you’re mine.”

My heart stumbled.

“I want them to see what I see,” he added, voice lower now, almost tender. “Even if you don’t believe it yet.”

There was something raw in his tone. Something real. And for a moment, I didn’t feel like a spy. Or a liar. I just felt… chosen. And that scared me more than anything else.

I shook my head lightly, trying to centre myself again. “What a dramatic way to say you’re sorry,” I muttered, not expecting him to hear.

He chuckled.

“I heard that,” he said, his lips curling into a crooked smile. “And for the record, I’m not sorry.”

“Of course you’re not,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “You’re too proud to apologize.”

He stepped forward again, like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself. His eyes shifted to the mirror behind me.

“You misunderstood everything, Zara,” he said. “But I’ll explain everything as soon as we get home.”

“Of course I did,” I said under my breath. “Did it ever occur to you that it would hurt?”

“Zara.” He said my name like it meant something. Like he needed me to hear it from him.

“What?” I asked.

“You look... breathtaking.”

I turned away quickly, pretending to adjust my hair in the mirror. “Don’t push it.”

But deep down, his words landed somewhere I didn’t want to admit existed. Somewhere soft. Vulnerable.

A knock on the door broke the moment. It was one of the housemaids.

“Alpha, the car is ready.”

He gave me one last look. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

And then he was gone.

I sat down for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. I was supposed to be playing a role. Staying focused. Sticking to the plan.

But with every look, every word, he made it harder. I couldn’t tell if that was part of his plan—or mine.

The necklace felt heavier now, like more than a gift. Like a symbol. A claim.

I ran my fingers along the diamond again. I told myself to remember why I was here. Why I was doing this. But the way he looked at me… it shook something loose.

He saw something in me. Something I didn’t even know was there.

I stood and looked in the mirror. I didn’t just look like someone playing the part. I looked like someone who belonged. And that terrified me even more.

I straightened my dress and let out a steady breath. I couldn’t afford to lose sight of the truth—not now. Not because of a necklace. Not because of a man who looked at me like I was his world.

But even as I stepped toward the door, I knew something had shifted. Something was breaking through the armour I built. And I wasn’t sure if I could stop it.

Not anymore.

I walked out into the hallway, my heels tapping softly against the polished floor. He was waiting by the stairs, his back to me, speaking in a low voice to one of the guards. As if sensing me, he turned, eyes meeting mine instantly.

For a second, neither of us moved. Then he held out his hand.

I hesitated, just for a breath, then placed my fingers in his. His hand was warm—steady. His thumb brushed gently over my knuckles as he led me down the stairs. No words were exchanged, but everything was louder in the silence.

The car outside was sleek and black, waiting with the door open. He helped me in, then slid in beside me.

The drive was quiet. He didn’t try to speak, and I was grateful. I needed the silence. Needed time to process everything.

As the lights of the city blurred past the window, I found myself glancing at him. His jaw was tight, his eyes distant. But every so often, he’d glance at me, like he was making sure I was still there.