The Rejected Luna’s Sweet Revenge Chapter 06

The Rejected Luna’s Sweet Revenge Chapter 06

When Zachary called my name, turmoil flashed in his eyes, a tangled, complicated emotion,

perhaps one he didn’t even understand.

It looked like he had wrestled with it for a long time before finally forcing out words he likely never

expected to say.

“I… think I regret it. Rue… I’m sorry.”

After that day, Zachary began visiting more often.

At first, he came every few days to buy a box of apple pie.

Then he started lowering his Alpha pride and, shockingly, learned from the shop helpers.

He swept the floors, organized the shelves, even stood behind the counter to greet customers.

He was tall and striking, and even in casual clothes his Alpha aura was impossible to hide.

Just by standing there, he somehow made my small dessert shop feel brighter, fuller, almost alive.

He moved naturally as he worked, lifting sacks of flour or lining up fresh pastries on the display.

His motions lacked finesse, but there was a strange earnestness in the way he focused.

Some regular customers teased when they saw him:

“Rue, have you found your mate? You two look perfect together!”

My hand stilled.

I was about to explain when she recognized Zachary as the pack’s Alpha and froze.

She stiffened immediately, lowering her head in fear of being punished.

But Zachary only smiled. He never corrected them, hever scolded anyone.

Sometimes he even played along, offering lines like “Thank you for your blessing” or “I’m just lucky

to enjoy her pastries,” which made the customers laugh even harder.

In those moments, with his posture, his expression for a heartbeat, we almost looked like an

ordinary couple running a small shop, living a quiet, steady life.

After the last customer left, he helped me clean the inside and outside of the store.

When dusk settled, only the two of us remained, surrounded by the fading warmth of the day and

the lingering sweetness in the air.

That was when he would begin talking, softly, hesitantly, as he wiped the counter.

He told me about those five years.

The first year, he said, he finally made Savannah his Luna.

He felt triumphant, sweetly satisfied, and convinced the future he had fought for was perfect.

The second year, Savannah grew increasingly paranoid.

She knew exactly how he had been “won” from me. So, she constantly feared another “Savannah”

would appear.

She restricted where he could go, who he could speak to, using tenderness and tears to weave a

net that tightened around him inch by inch.

He felt suffocated.

The grand pack house, once a symbol of victory, became more suffocating than any threat he had

ever faced.

The third year, he began to realize Savannah wasn’t suited for the world he had created.

Not her looks or charm, but in the Alpha gatherings and elite social events he had to navigate, he

and Savannah found they had nothing in common.

He spoke about the dangers of war; she spoke of shopping.

He shared a rare moment of reflection; she couldn’t follow a single thread.

Then came the day she made coffee for him, a rare gesture. He took one sip and couldn’t drink any

more.

She had used a full packet of sugar. He had always used only half.

Holding that unopened half-packet in his hand, he suddenly understood something.

Some bonds, some instincts, some pieces of shared life are carved into the bone. Once lost, they

can never be found again.

The fourth year, he could no longer stop thinking about me. He thought about the nights we

walked under the moonlit trees.

The way I understood him with a single glance, no explanation needed.

The years we survived together, step for step through every thorn and battlefield.

He missed having someone who truly understood him.

And Savannah… Savannah gradually became an outsider.

By the fifth year, arguments erupted constantly. Savannah was sensitive to his growing coldness,

and terrified by the rumors that never fully died down.

What I did at the Alpha Ball had been suppressed, but nothing stays buried forever.

My father’s brutal death, my years of imprisonment… they became evidence of Zachary’s

ingratitude and cruelty.

The Alpha King never spoke it aloud, but his support grew noticeably cold.

What trust could anyone place in an Alpha who drove his benefactor to death, who abandoned his

fated mate so ruthlessly?

Support dwindled. Confidence vanished. His position as Alpha became a precarious seat.

All of it fed into their endless fights. Only when Savannah discovered she was pregnant did the cracks temporarily settle, a fragile peace barely held together.

When Zachary told me all of this, his tone was quiet, almost detached, like he was recounting

someone else’s tragedy.

Most of the time, I simply listened.

I wiped the counters, checked the ledger, counted coins. I didn’t respond. I didn’t judge.

When he finished, he would let out a small, self-mocking laugh and say, “Why am I telling you all

this? I’m only troubling you for nothing.”

By then, the sky outside was always pitch-dark.

He would rise and murmur, “It’s late. I’ll… come back another day.”

I would nod, watching his tall silhouette disappear into the darkness of the alleyway.

Then I quietly closed the door, shutting out the lingering scent he left behind, along with his late,

useless regrets.

The next morning, barely after I opened the shop, an unexpected visitor arrived.