Moonlight After Goodbye Chapter 07

Moonlight After Goodbye Chapter 07

I’d spent a full week loafing around the house.

My window of being the family’s coddled kid was officially over, and my parents were starting to get annoyed by my every little move.

“Look at you,” Dad grumbled as he mopped the floor. “You leave your dirty dishes everywhere, never make your bed, and just camp out on the couch all day long.”

He jabbed the mop head right near my feet, and I quickly lifted my legs out of the way.

Mom leaned against the kitchen island with a mug of coffee in her hands, watching the whole scene like an amused spectator.

“I told you we shouldn’t spoil her so much,” she said. “One week of doing nothing, and she’s already back to her old lazy self.”

I hugged a throw pillow tight to my chest and shot back confidently. “You’re the ones who told me I could come home and take it easy. Mom, your exact words were you’d help me put back all the weight I’d lost.”

Dad let out a sheepish chuckle. After a couple more swipes with the mop, he couldn’t hold back from speaking up again.

“Hey, kid, why don’t you head out somewhere today? Staying stuck indoors day in and day out isn’t good for you.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Dad, are you actually checking in on me, or am I just blocking your football game?”

Dad glanced over at the television, then back at me. He didn’t say a word, but his face gave his answer away plain as day.

That afternoon, Mom sent me outside to take out the kitchen trash.

I was still in my pajamas and slide-on slippers, my hair haphazardly clipped up at the back of my head, one trash bag dangling from my hand.

I was about to walk around a lopsided delivery bike parked beside the apartment entrance when I spotted him.

Declan stood underneath the old oak tree downstairs, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, staring down at his phone.

He’d likely just gotten off a flight; a suitcase stood upright beside him, and he still wore the same windbreaker he’d had on in Iceland, looking worn out from traveling.

He lifted his head, and our eyes locked instantly.

“Celeste,” he spoke first, his voice rough and strained.

I stayed rooted where I stood. The trash can sat only two meters directly behind him, and I resented how awkward this positioning made our encounter.

“You’re back,” I said flatly.

Declan seemed thrown off by how emotionless I sounded. Once upon a time, the second I laid eyes on him I’d rush straight over and trail after him everywhere he went. Whether he was cheerful or quiet, I always had endless trivial chatter to fill every silence between us.

The cafeteria food being too salty that day, my professor getting a new haircut, a stray cat I’d seen on the road that was round just like the pet he’d owned as a little boy… I could ramble on about anything.

I never even required him to listen closely; as long as he was beside me, I could keep talking nonstop.

Where had all those words gone now?

He took one step forward. His suitcase wheel scraped against the concrete, a sharp, loud sound cutting through the quiet pack housing area.

“I’ve called you more than a dozen times,” he said. “Did you get a new phone number?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t I get through to you?”

“I blocked your number.”

His mouth fell open, caught completely off guard by those three blunt words.

“You’re still angry?” he sounded defeated. “Celeste, we’ve been together for years. You can’t throw around a breakup so lightly; it ruins everything we’ve built.”

I met his gaze, my tone steady and unfeeling.

“I meant every word. Declan, we’re broken up.”

“Is this because I didn’t reply to your last text?” he pressed, his voice wavering with mounting panic as he scrambled to piece together a reason.

“Because you didn’t get to watch the aurora with me? Or is this all about Laura? There’s genuinely nothing romantic between Laura and me. I’ve only ever seen her as a friend.”

I held his gaze without answering, then suddenly posed a question of my own.

“Declan, why did you make me go retrieve Laura’s scarf that night?”

He froze.

“Because…” He started speaking, then hesitated. “Laura can’t stand the cold,” he finally got out. “You’re physically sturdier than she is. I figured running a short errand to grab a scarf wouldn’t be a big deal for you.”

“Declan,” I said softly. “I was stranded alone in another country for six hours with no way home. Did it ever cross your mind to come look for me?”

“I—I just assumed you’d find your own way back eventually,” he mumbled. “You’ve always been that way. Even if you wandered off, you’d manage to make your way home on your own.”

I nodded slowly. I stepped around him and tossed my trash into the bin.

I later heard Declan booked a last-minute motel close to the airport that night. The next day, he’d handed Laura over to an escort sent by Ashford Pack and flown straight back to Moonridge overnight.

But it was too little, far too late.

He reached out and wrapped his fingers around my wrist, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.

“I messed up, Celeste. Punish me however you want, yell at me as much as you need to. Just don’t end this between us.”

I glanced down at his hand wrapped around my wrist—long, defined knuckles, with a faint scar along the side of his index finger.

We’d first held hands on the high school track field. He’d just finished training, his palm sweaty, squeezing my fingers so tightly it ached.

Back then I’d thought: It can hurt all it wants. I’m never letting go for the rest of my life.

Sixteen years had passed since that day.

I’d never let go. He’d been the first one to pull away.

I gently slipped my wrist free from his grasp.

“Declan… This really is over between us.”