Lahat ng Kabanata ng Rebirth of the mad luna: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

TASHAKirk drew in a breath like he was ready to restart the entire lecture, but the shift in the room arrived before he managed a single word. Grandmother Ila approached with a deliberate pace, the soft tap of her cane marking each step while the older Lunas moved behind her in coordinated elegance. Their shawls caught the chandelier light, scattering it over the marble floor like small constellations, and the crowd parted as though responding to an old instinct. Ila’s eyes swept over Kirk first, reading every line of his posture, and she stopped directly in front of him with a firmness that belonged to a woman who shaped her household long before we were born. “You are raising your voice in public,” she said, and the mildness of her tone made the reprimand even stronger. Kirk lifted his chin and adjusted his stance, and the faint panic around his eyes told me he had absolutely no way out of this situation.The older Lunas behind her held their attention on him without saying anythin

TASHAHer gestures grew wider as her breathing sped up. Her bracelet slipped down her wrist with each movement, clinking softly against the beading on her dress. The silver fabric rippled around her hips as she turned back and forth between Kirk and me, and the skirt swayed like it couldn’t keep up with her thoughts.Her cheeks reddened, the flush spreading across her cheekbones in uneven patches that stood out beneath her makeup. Mascara smudged at the corners of her eyes, the pigment gathering where her lashes touched her skin each time she blinked too hard. She looked overheated, overwhelmed, and completely oblivious to the growing impatience around her.A murmur drifted through the guests closest to us. It wasn’t mocking, but it wasn’t supportive either. It felt like a weary acknowledgment from people who had spent far too many evenings watching privileged daughters lose control in public and expecting everyone else to soothe their egos. The younger heirs near the refreshment tabl

TASHAI glanced at Violet, and the disbelief tightening her face looked raw and almost too personal to witness in such a formal space. She held her program against her chest like she needed something to anchor herself, and her glittering dress clung to her shoulders as her breathing remained quick and uneven.Her eyes bounced between me and Kirk, and the shift in her expression told me she already sensed the shift in power she had set off without meaning to. She stood in the center of a prying circle but still clung to the idea that she deserved an apology, a correction, something that would make her the center in a better way. I understood the instinct, even if I had no patience for the chaos she created.Beside me, Kirk held himself in a stiff, controlled stance that revealed how much he wanted to de-escalate without humiliating anyone. His shoulders stayed lifted, and his jaw tightened in a way I recognized from medical emergencies where he forced himself to remain outwardly calm w

TASHAIn the days after the scene with Kirk’s grandmother, Violet moved through the estate with a restless spark that drew eyes. I watched her from the edges of rooms while I adjusted Tamrine against my chest, keeping his head supported with the soft fold of my palm. His warmth helped me stay grounded when irritation threatened to rise.Violet made a point of passing through the newborn wing every morning, always smiling at the caregivers as if she owned the place. She greeted them by name, asked about bottle schedules, and pretended to study the digital charts projected above the bassinets. Each time she stepped into that hallway, her perfume reached me before her voice did, and I always knew when she planned to linger longer than necessary.I tried to read the shifts in her behavior the same way I read small changes in Tamrine’s breathing when he slept. She adjusted her clothes more often, checking her reflection in every reflective panel, smoothing her hair whenever Kirk walked int

TASHAWhen the door closed behind me, the room fell into a softer rhythm. The lights dimmed, the air-temperature panels hummed, and for a moment everything felt manageable again. I placed Tamrine in his bassinet and smoothed the blanket over him.His fingers curled instinctively toward the sensor ribbon beside him. I stayed beside him longer than usual, letting the calm settle around us.The world outside the nursery kept spiraling around petty competition and fragile pride, but inside this small room, I felt control shaping itself quietly. Violet’s plan failed. Kirk placed himself exactly where he always wanted to be—beside her. And I stayed where I needed to be, alert, protective. Not victorious. Just present. My son breathed a soft exhale, and I leaned over him, letting the rest of the night shrink to something I could hold.The next morning started earlier than I expected. I woke to the soft alert from the bassinet sensors, the one that signaled Tamrine was drifting toward hunger.