His pretty Luna
The stars were sharp and bright, scattered like pieces of glass across black velvet.
Kayla had loved nights like this. used to grab my hand and drag me outside, barefoot, giggling, whispering secrets to the stars as if they were listening.
“Look, Heira,” Kayla would say, pointing with her tiny finger, “those ones are ours. They’ll always watch over us.”
The memory hit so hard it stole my breath.
Hot tears welled in my eyes, slipping silently down my cheeks. I bit my lips, trying to stop the sob clawing its way up my throat, but the pain wouldn’t let me.
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