His Human Luna Managed to Get Away Chapter 17

His Human Luna Managed to Get Away Chapter 17 A New Dance

On their way back after dinner at Granny Jeline’s cottage, Lorin broke the silence.

“I know someone I’d like you to meet,” he said.

“His name is Elian Voss. He’s a leading specialist in sports injury rehabilitation.” He showed her a photo o his phone. A young man in surgical scrubs, a bold smile on his face.

‘He’s got a fiery temper, but an absolute genius in his field.”

Nia had heard of him. Elian Voss, the genius who could piece broken bones back together.

She paused. “When did you first notice?”

She had truly believed she’d hidden her old injury well.

Her fingers drifted instinctively over the pale scar wrapping around her left leg. Over the years, she had voided anything connected to dance. If a ballet performance came on television, she would switch the hannel at once, unable to bear watching.

A month ago.” Lorin poured her a glass of water. “You didn’t realize you’re always rubbing your knee without thinking?”

Nia was stunned. She had gotten so used to it that even she hadn’t noticed the habit.

Could I really… dance again?” she whispered, afraid to let hope take root too deeply.

orin knelt down abruptly and rested his palm gently against her cold knee. “It will hurt. But you will tand on that stage once more.”

Via was the type of person who, once she made up her mind, would see it through. After she let herself hope for a return to the stage, she threw herself into rehabilitation with Elian.

Still, no amount of determination could prepare her for how brutal the therapy would be.

During her first rehab session, she bit through her lip from the pain.

Elian pressed firmly against her trembling knee, his face utterly impassive. The pressure grew so intense

hat

spots blurred her vision. “You have severe muscle adhesions here. We have to break them loose, or his injury will never fully heal.”

‘Keep going.” Her nails dug into the flesh of her palms.

A tearing, splitting pain exploded from her knee, as if someone were scraping flesh from bone with a dul

blade.

“Crying will make it easier.” Elian let go and handed her a pain patch.

Nia shook her head. She swallowed the metallic taste of blood.

She remembered being twelve years old, practicing in the orphanage on a concrete floor, scraping her

kuees raw without shedding a single tear.

She had told herself pain was proof of growing stronger

This time was no different.

“Does it hurt?” Lorin asked.

Nia shook her head-then let out a light laugh. “Yes. But…”

Peal
But compared to the despair of never being able to dance again, those nights spent awake with that hollo ache-this pain felt like a gift.

The recovery progressed faster than anyone expected.

Six months later, when Nia performed the second act of Giselle from start to finish for the first time, Elia -who rarely praised anyone-simply said, “Sign up.”

‘For what?”

“The International Dance Competition.” He tossed an entry form toward her. “It’s held in Pyrth next month.”

After submitting her application, Nia trained as if her whole life depended on it. Lorin became her only audience, even moving his work desk into the dance studio to keep her company.

Nia never said anything, but she noticed everything. She told herself silently: Wait until after the competition.

On the day of the competition, Lorin had taken two days off to help her pin on her number. “The head judge is the dean of your old school. Want to say hello?”

Nia shook her head. Those teachers who had once looked at her with pity, seeing only a dancer broken by injury, would now witness her rebirth today.

She had chosen The Dying Swan-the piece she had never finished the day she got hurt.

As the music began to play, her gaze swept across the audience. She spotted the doctorin the front row, holding up his phone to record every moment. Granny Jeline sat nearby, dabbing at her eyes. Then her eyes fell on the deepest shadows in the far corner: a man in a tailored suit sat rigid in his seat, his hands gripping the armrest so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Soren. He had come too.

Nia’s movements never faltered. She swept past that corner as if he were just another stranger in the

audience.

Everything felt as natural as it had in the studio. When she finally sank to one knee and threw her head back, the hall was silent for three seconds-then erupted in thunderous applause.

“Gold medal! Miss Nia Reed!”

She bowed for her curtain call. But instead of looking at the flowers and flashing cameras, her gaze found

Lun waiting for her at the aisle exit.

“Congratulations.”

He handed her a bouquet, his eyes bright with undisguised pride.

Nia looked at him. Then she rose on her toes and kissed him

+5 Pearls

Lorin froze for a heartbeat-then he reacted. One hand went to her waist, the other gently cradled the back of her head, deepening the kiss.

When they finally parted, he let out a low laugh, his voice a little rough. “Miss Reed, are you aiming to claim both a brilliant career and new love all at once?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Is that against the rules?”

His eyes darkened. He lowered his head and kissed her again.

Around them, staff members laughed and cheered. Lost in the kiss, Nia didn’t notice the stiff figure standing in the backstage corridor.

Soren stood there, the bouquet in his hand hanging limply at his side.

He watched her held in another man’s arms. Watched her smile so brightly. Watched her walk fully into a new life-a life that no longer included him.

A searing agony tore through his chest, sharp enough to steal his breath away.

He parted his lips to speak, then fell silent. He knew he had long ago lost the right to offer his well-wishes. He could not even bring himself to say a simple “congratulations”.

In the end, he turned and walked away without a word. His figure faded slowly into the dim hallway.