All Chapters of In Search of Liberation: Luna In name Only: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Jason sat alone in his hospital room after Michelle left. The silence was deafening. He kept staring at the door long after it had closed, her scent lingering faintly in the air, soft jasmine and something else he couldn’t place, something fragile. He should have called her back. He should have said something. Instead, he had let her walk out without a word, because he didn’t trust himself, or his emotions. She had looked… different. Not the haughty, stoic Luna he thought he knew, but a woman on the edge, trying to hold herself together.He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He had handled that badly. His gaze drifted to the trash bin in the corner. The corner of a card peeked out from beneath the tissue paper. The carnations she’d brought were still lying there, slightly bent but still fragrant. For a long moment, he just stared at them.Then he cursed softly under his breath and got up, ignoring the pull of his bandages. He reached into the trash and pulled out the bouquet

Michelle sat on the couch, her knees drawn together, her hands trembling faintly in her lap. The house was too quiet. Every tick of the clock echoed in her chest like a countdown. Excitement and fear swirled inside her like twin storms. She couldn’t tell which was stronger, the thrill of the small rebellion she had already set in motion, or the dread of being caught before it could even begin.For a long time, she just sat there, staring at the empty fireplace. The faint hum of the refrigerator, the distant chirping of evening insects, the wind brushing against the glass windows, all of it felt louder than usual. The air was thick, heavy, waiting. She thought about how much her life had changed in two short years.There had been a time when she was radiant, when her laughter filled the halls, when her wardrobe was a mix of color and silk, when her hair had shimmered under the light and she wore her confidence like a crown. Back then, people smiled when she walked by. Back then, she

Michelle hadn’t made it thirty minutes into the movie when a sudden, violent knock shattered the fragile quiet. The sound was so sharp it made her jump, the glass in her hand nearly slipping. Her heart thudded in her chest, one, two, three heavy beats, before she set the glass down and forced herself to stand.For a moment, she simply stood there, staring toward the door, her mind spinning with possibilities. There was only one kind of person who knocked like that, loud, entitled, and without respect. Patrick might have been away at the summit, but his shadow was still everywhere.With a slow breath, she walked to the door and opened it.And there she was.Rhonda.Patrick’s on-and-off mistress. One of many, but perhaps the most shameless of the lot.Rhonda was a slender, sharp-faced woman with bleached hair and too much perfume, the kind that clung to the air like smoke. Her lipstick was smudged, her tone already edged with attitude before she even spoke.“He isn’t home,” Michelle

The house was quiet again. Too quiet.Jason sat in the living room, half-watching the flickering news channel, the summit’s coverage rolling by in the background. His mind was elsewhere, on Michelle, on the tension that hung in the house like smoke.Then, a sound pierced through the stillness.Retching.It came faintly from down the hall, harsh and uneven, followed by the dull clatter of something hitting the tiled floor.Jason frowned and turned his head toward the sound. He waited a few seconds, hoping it would stop, but it didn’t. It grew louder, more desperate.He sighed, pushing himself off the couch. “She’s drunk,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.Part of him wanted to ignore it. It wasn’t his business. But another part, the part that refused to let him stand by and watch someone drown, made him move.He followed the sound to the guest room, the door slightly ajar.What he saw made his stomach twist.Michelle was on the floor by the toilet, her body trembling. She w

Michelle woke up to a dull ache pounding behind her temples, the kind that throbbed with each heartbeat. The air in the room was cool, carrying the faint scent of lavender from the bedsheets. She blinked slowly, squinting at the soft morning light seeping in through the curtains. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Then the memories of last night came crashing back, the tears, the bottle of scotch, the retching, and Jason’s steady hands pulling her back from the edge.Shame flooded her chest so quickly it nearly choked her.She pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed. “What have I done?”There were gaps in her memory, flashes of words, the sound of her own voice cracking, the feel of Jason’s shirt beneath her fingers. She didn’t know what she might have said, but she knew she had been reckless. The thought of facing him made her stomach twist.Still, she couldn’t hide in the room forever.Her throat was parched, her skin clammy from sleep and dried tears. She swung her leg