When the Forgotten One-Eyed Luna Rises Chapter 02

When the Forgotten One-Eyed Luna Rises Chapter 02

He lowered his voice and comforted her, “No, don’t be afraid.”

I stared at that hand.

Suddenly, I felt like arguing was pointless.

I turned around and went back to my room. I placed my driver’s license, passport, eye examination records, and other documents into my suitcase one by one.

At that moment, I finally understood. They weren’t incapable of loving someone. They just had never loved me.

The next day, I went to the United Pack Hospital where my left eye had been treated eight years ago. I wanted to get a copy of my old medical records.

When the pack doctor saw my name, he froze for a long time, “Daisy Dawson? The Gamma from the Fullmoon Pack?”

His eyes fell on my left eye, and he hesitated before asking, “Why didn’t you get nerve repair surgery afterward?”

My fingers stopped moving, “What surgery?”

The pack doctor frowned and pulled up my old records. The words appeared line by line on the screen.

[The optic nerve was not completely damaged. If repair surgery is performed within three months, there is a chance to preserve partial vision. Immediate surgery is recommended.]

The cost was three hundred and twenty thousand dollars.

My father had already paid the deposit back then.

I stare at the payment record, my heart suddenly tightening. My wolf, which has been quiet since the day I lost my eye, lets out a weak whimper, trembling with a desperate sense of hope.

So I hadn’t lost every possibility from the beginning.

My left eye had once been so close to seeing light again.

But the next page was a refund record.

The person who requested the refund was Zane Dawson.

My father.

The refund date was the day before Skylar’s piano competition final.

The note read: [Family member has decided to discontinue treatment. Full refund requested.]

I held the copied documents and walked out of the hospital.

The sun was bright outside. The sunlight made my right eye ache, but I couldn’t look away.

Three hundred and twenty thousand dollars.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t afford it.

They had simply taken the last chance of light away from my eye.

When I returned home, Skylar’s bedroom door was half-open.

A piano melody drifted from inside.

I stood at the doorway.

A white grand piano sat in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, with sunlight shining on its surface so brightly that it hurt my eyes.

I had always thought it was a prize someone had given her after the competition.

Until today.

I saw the plaque beside the piano lid.

[To our beloved Skylar. May you always stand in the center of applause.]

The signature was from Mom, Dad, Logan, and Xander.

The purchase date was the exact day my surgery payment had been refunded.

I suddenly remembered that period of time.

The pack doctor had told me I needed a quiet environment to recover, but Mom had brought me home and refused to let me go outside. She only allowed me to stay in the smallest room on the first floor.

Every day, piano music came from upstairs. Again and again.

I covered my eye, unable to sleep because of the pain.

Mom pushed open my door and said impatiently, “Skylar finally found the courage to play piano again. Don’t ruin this for her.”

So that piano had been bought with my surgery money.

My chance to see the light again, my wolf’s dream of running free, my left eye, and the faint hope that I might one day see the world clearly were all traded away for the music beneath Skylar’s fingertips.

I pushed open the door.

The piano stopped abruptly. Skylar turned around.

When she saw the documents in my hand, her expression changed.

I placed the refund record on the piano, “Does this piano sound beautiful?”

“Mom and Dad traded away my eye for it. It should sound amazing, shouldn’t it?”

The room became terrifyingly quiet.

Mom arrived soon after. When she saw the refund record, her voice immediately softened.

“The pack doctor never guaranteed that it would definitely work.”

Dad frowned, “Don’t make it sound worse than it was. Skylar was in a terrible state back then. If she gave up on the competition, she would have carried that regret for the rest of her life.”

Logan sneered, “You can still live with one eye. Skylar’s dream couldn’t be ruined.”

I can still live with one eye.

Hearing those words, I suddenly found it hard to breathe.

So they had already counted all my future pain as something insignificant under the words “you can still live with one eye.”

I could live with one eye, so treatment wasn’t necessary.

I could live with one eye, so I could endure the pain.

I could live with one eye, so the last chance I had left could be traded for her applause.

Xander stood at the back. His face was pale.

He stared at the refund record for a long time without saying anything.

I looked at him, “You knew too?”

His eyelashes trembled slightly. But he didn’t deny it.

At that moment, something lightly struck my chest. My wolf, Mia, let out a broken whimper.

I had always thought Xander was different from them.

He remembered that I was afraid of the dark, remembered that I couldn’t see the steps clearly.

When we were surrounded by people, he would always instinctively stand on my left side.

I was his mate. His wolf had dreamed of being with mine forever. But he had still taken everything away from me, even though I was his fated mate.

He knew my eye had once had a chance to recover, knew where that white piano had come from.

But he chose silence, chose to ignore our mate bond.

Skylar suddenly started crying, “Daisy, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She said she didn’t know. But she had played that piano for eight years.

For eight years, my left eye had ached on rainy days, burned under bright lights, and throbbed painfully under the strange gazes of pack members.

She had never once asked.

I suddenly laughed. I laughed until my eyes burned.

But the tears only fell from my right eye. The other side remained dry and numb, like a barren wasteland.

I wiped away my tears and carefully gathered my medical records.

I didn’t argue anymore. Because I suddenly understood. Favoritism could never be reasoned with.

They had already written the answer in their hearts.

No matter what I said, I would only be the wrong answer on their paper.

When I left the Gamma packhouse, the piano upstairs started playing again.

This time, the melody sounded broken and uneven.

I walked to the gate and looked back one last time. The white curtains fluttered in the wind. That room was bright like something out of a fairy tale.

And I stood outside the door.

Finally, I admitted the truth.

Some homes were never meant to be places you returned to.

They only existed to remind you that it was time to leave.