Chapter 5 : The Slap

LUNA'S POINT OF VIEW

I almost did not go.

I stood in front of the wardrobe for a long time, longer than I should have, my fingers brushing against dresses I had not worn in months. Some still had tags. Some still smelled new. Some smelled like memories I did not want to touch.

I was not really seeing any of them.

My mind was somewhere else.

Back at that table. Back at the way the tea soaked through my dress. Back at the way Ethan did not look up. Back at his voice.

Know your place.

I swallowed hard.

My fingers stilled on a dark green dress. I pulled it out slowly and held it against myself, staring into the mirror.

I looked… fine.

Not beautiful. Not special. Just fine.

I almost laughed.

Fine had never been enough in this house.

I let the dress fall against my body and watched myself in the mirror again. My face looked calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that comes from holding too much inside for too long.

I could stay home.

No one would ask.

Emily would probably be relieved. Eva would laugh about it. Sara would take my place at the table without hesitation. Ethan… Ethan would not notice until someone pointed it out.

That thought sat heavy in my chest.

Then another thought followed it.

Rose.

Her voice had been steady on the phone. Not asking. Not persuading.

Luna, I expect to see you there.

I remembered her hand around mine. Cold. Firm. Certain.

For a moment, something inside me straightened.

If I did not go, I would be proving them right.

That I did not belong.

That I could be pushed aside.

That I would quietly disappear if they made things uncomfortable enough.

I slowly lifted my chin.

No.

I would go.

Even if I stood there alone.

Even if no one spoke to me.

Even if every eye in that room judged me.

I would go.

Because I was still here.

---

The venue was beautiful in a way that made you feel small.

High ceilings. Soft lights. Everything carefully arranged. The kind of place where people lowered their voices without thinking about it.

Money had a sound. It had a quiet to it.

I felt it the moment I stepped in.

People were already there. Dressed well. Moving easily. Laughing softly. Like they had always belonged in places like this.

I adjusted the strap of my dress slightly and walked in.

My heels felt too loud against the floor.

I hated that I noticed that.

I hated that I always noticed things like that.

Rose stood near the entrance, speaking to a couple. The moment her eyes found me, she stopped.

She excused herself and walked toward me.

She did not rush. She never rushed.

When she reached me, she took both my hands.

Her grip was light but steady.

"You came," she said.

I nodded. "You told me to."

Something in her eyes softened. Not fully. Just enough.

She looked at my face carefully, like she always did, like she was searching for something beneath the surface.

"You look tired," she said quietly.

"I am fine."

She held my hands for a second longer, then released them.

"Stay close," she said, before turning back to her guests.

Stay close.

I wanted to.

But I knew how these things worked.

People would come. Conversations would pull her away. I would be left standing somewhere in the room trying to look like I belonged.

Still, I nodded.

And then I walked further in.

I found a place near the edge of the room.

Not too close. Not too far.

Just enough to exist without being in the center of anything.

I picked up a glass from a passing tray and held it, even though I was not planning to drink.

It gave my hands something to do.

Time passed.

People talked. Laughed. Moved around me.

Some glanced at me.

Most did not.

I told myself that was good.

Better to be invisible than examined.

I almost relaxed.

Almost.

Then the room changed.

It was small at first.

A shift in voices. A slight pause in movement. Heads turning one after another.

I felt it before I saw it.

I turned.

Ethan.

And Sara.

Walking in together.

His hand rested at the small of her back.

Not casual.

Not accidental.

Familiar.

My stomach dropped.

I had seen that gesture before.

Felt it.

Believed in it.

Now it belonged to someone else.

Sara wore red.

Of course she did.

She always knew how to enter a room. How to make sure every eye landed on her without looking like she was trying.

She looked calm.

Confident.

Like nothing had ever gone wrong.

Like she had never run away.

Like she had never left everything behind.

Like she had always been here.

Emily was already moving toward them.

Her face lit up in a way I had never seen directed at me.

"There they are," she said loudly. "Look at you. Sara, you look beautiful."

She touched Sara’s arm. Smiled at Ethan.

Ethan said something low.

Emily laughed.

The sound carried.

Then she looked at me.

Just for a second.

But it was enough.

Intentional.

Cold.

Satisfied.

I turned away.

My fingers tightened slightly around the glass.

The whispers started.

Soft. Quiet. But not quiet enough.

"They came together."

"I heard it was always her."

"Then what is the other one still doing here?"

A small laugh.

"Probably waiting to be replaced."

"She already was."

The word hit.

Placeholder.

I stared straight ahead.

I had heard that word before.

Too many times.

Too many years.

It had followed me from my childhood into this marriage like a shadow that refused to leave.

I placed my glass down carefully.

If I held it any tighter, it would break.

I walked to the bar.

Each step felt controlled. Measured.

Do not rush.

Do not react.

Do not give them anything.

I leaned lightly against the counter.

"Something strong," I said.

The bartender nodded.

I did not even look at what he poured.

I just stared at the bottles lined up behind him.

Colorful. Perfect. Untouched.

I focused on them.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Do not think.

Do not feel.

Just stand.

Just exist.

Then she came.

I felt it before she spoke.

That shift in the air.

That quiet attention that came with her presence.

Sara stepped beside me.

Close.

Too close.

I could smell her perfume.

Floral. Expensive. Deliberate.

I did not turn.

"You should have stayed home," she said lightly.

Her voice was soft. Almost kind.

But there was nothing kind in it.

"Everyone is talking," she continued. "Can you not feel it?"

I said nothing.

"They all know," she said. "They always knew."

My fingers tightened slightly around the glass.

"You were never meant to stay," she said quietly. "You were just filling space."

My chest rose slowly.

I kept my eyes forward.

"Ethan never loved you," she added.

That one landed.

Deep.

I swallowed.

"You know that," she said. "Even you know that."

For a second, my mind betrayed me.

A memory surfaced.

Ethan, early days.

Standing too close.

Saying my name like it mattered.

Looking at me like I was not just a solution.

Like I was something real.

I pushed it away.

That version of him was gone.

Maybe it had never existed.

"Go home, Luna," Sara said softly.

Her voice changed.

Lower now.

Sharper.

"Or better yet… disappear."

My breath caught slightly.

"Your mother managed it," she continued.

My grip tightened.

"She got sick. She died. She stopped being a problem."

My heart started beating faster.

Louder.

"Maybe you should do the same."

Everything went quiet.

Not the room.

Inside me.

Everything stopped.

My mother.

A hospital room.

The smell of medicine.

Her hand in mine.

Weak. Warm.

Her voice telling me to be strong.

To endure.

To survive.

I had watched her fade.

Watched her disappear slowly.

Watched the world move on like she had never been there.

Something inside me snapped.

I should walk away.

That thought came.

Clear.

Strong.

Walk away.

Do not do this.

If you do this, everything will get worse.

They will use it against you.

They will turn it into proof that you do not belong.

Walk away.

Leave.

Right now.

I could.

I should.

My fingers loosened slightly.

My body shifted.

One step.

That was all it would take.

One step away from her.

One step away from this.

I did not take it.

My hand moved before I could stop it.

The sound of the slap cut through the room.

Sharp.

Clear.

Final.

Sara’s head snapped to the side.

Silence.

Complete silence.

My chest rose and fell quickly.

My palm stung.

I did not regret it.

Not even a little.

---

Everything froze.

All eyes on us.

Every voice gone.

Every movement stopped.

For the first time since I walked into that room…

I was not invisible.

Ethan was moving.

Fast.

His face was hard.

His eyes locked on me.

I saw it coming.

I saw his hand rise.

For a second…

I thought he would hit me.

And something inside me broke.

Not fear.

Not exactly.

Something deeper.

Something that had been holding on for too long.

If he did it…

If he actually did it…

There would be nothing left to hold onto.

He did not get the chance.

Someone grabbed his wrist.

Held it.

Stopped him.

Rose.

Standing behind him.

Calm.

Cold.

Terrifying.

"What," she said quietly, "were you about to do."

Ethan froze.

"She slapped Sara," he said.

"I can see that."

Her eyes did not leave his face.

"Who is she to you?"

A pause.

"My wife."

"Your wife," she repeated.

The words felt heavy.

Real.

Binding.

"And this is how you treat your wife."

Ethan said nothing.

Sara stepped forward.

"Luna attacked me—"

"Remove her," Rose said.

Just like that.

No hesitation.

No argument.

Sara froze.

"You were not invited," Rose continued.

Her voice was calm.

Controlled.

"You came anyway. You caused a scene. You will leave."

Sara turned to Ethan.

He did not move.

That was enough.

She left.

Head high.

Face controlled.

But I saw it.

The crack.

The anger.

Rose turned to the room.

"Luna is under my protection," she said.

"Anyone who disrespects her disrespects me."

Silence answered her.

No one argued.

No one moved.

Then she looked at me.

Just for a second.

And in that look…

There was something I had not felt in a long time.

Not pity.

Not obligation.

Recognition.

She walked away.

The room slowly came back to life.

But something had changed.

I stood there.

Alone.

But not the same.

Ethan stood across the room.

Looking at the door Sara had walked through.

Not at me.

Never at me.

That hurt.

More than the rest.

I placed my glass down.

My hand was steady.

For the first time in a long time…

I did not feel small.

I was still here.

And this time…

I was not going to stay quiet.