Twice, Luna They Left Behind Chapter 09

Twice, Luna They Left Behind Chapter 09

The wind sent dead leaves skittering in circles across the empty street.

Dad squeezed his eyes shut like he was in physical pain.

“Lydia, blood is thicker than water. Are you really going to sever all ties with us?”

“You’re out here alone. No money, no backing. How do you think the road ahead is going to look?”

He was still trying to reel me in with his cold realism.

“Your scholarship admission is solid, sure—but living expenses during college, resources for studying abroad later, all of that requires family backing.”

“I can transfer the title to the downtown apartment into your name. Consider it compensation.”

Compensation.

I looked at his urgent expression and almost laughed.

“Professor Alpha,” I said, shifting the title. “Even your apologies come with a price tag. You think an apartment erases what you did? The hours I spent changing my own bandages in that hospital room—alone?”

“Does it put the wallpaper back on my walls? The one you tore down? Does it bring back the notebooks you threw in the trash?”

Dad’s face drained of color. His lips moved, but nothing came out.

—

Leo finally snapped. He lifted his head and fixed me with a venomous glare.

“Lydia, get off your high horse. Mom and Dad are groveling here, and you still want more?”

“It’s just a damn apartment. Take it, grab your crap, and come home. Stop embarrassing us.”

Smack.

Dad spun and landed a vicious slap across Leo’s face. Harder than ever before.

Leo staggered and hit the ground. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

“You little bastard! Shut your mouth!”

Dad pointed at him, his whole hand trembling.

“If it weren’t for you—she’d still be here. She’d still be in this house!”

Leo clutched his face, staring up in terror at the father who’d always been so restrained.

Mom stood off to the side, silently crying. She didn’t move to help him.

I watched this late-blooming family drama unfold with cold detachment.

It didn’t move me at all.

“Are you done?” I checked my phone. “I have a meeting with my

—

advisor. I don’t have time to stand here and watch this performance.”

I stepped around them and started walking.

“Lydia”

Mom lunged and grabbed the hem of my jacket, her fingers twisting into the fabric. The polished professor who held court in lecture halls was now weeping like a desperate, unhinged woman.

“Please, just give Mom one chance, okay? I know I was wrong. I can’t lose you!”

I stopped.

Looked down at her hand clutching my clothes.

“Let go.”

My voice was ice.

She didn’t let go. Her grip tightened.

“No! I won’t! Please, just forgive me—”

I raised my right hand—the one covered in scars—and one by one, I pried her fingers loose.

“Luna.”

I met her eyes.

“The day of the fire, I begged you just like this. I was behind that door, screaming, Mom, please save me. And you didn’t even turn your head.”

—

Mom’s hands recoiled as if electrocuted. She collapsed onto the pavement, staring at the centipede scars on the back of my hand, and broke into ugly, broken sobs.

I turned and walked through the school gates, my back straight.

Not a single moment of hesitation. Not a single glance back.