When the Forgotten One-Eyed Luna Rises Chapter 09

When the Forgotten One-Eyed Luna Rises Chapter 09

My college life gradually settled into a routine.

I applied for a work-study position and spent every Wednesday afternoon organizing bookshelves in the

library.

Sometimes the shelves were too high, and I couldn’t see clearly on my left side, so I would often put books in

the wrong places.

The senior student working with me never complained that I was slow.

She simply moved the labels slightly to the right, “This way, it’ll be easier for you.”

I froze for a moment.

She smiled, “Don’t overthink it. Work should be adjusted to fit people, not force people to endure things.”

I remembered that sentence for a long time.

Back home, every inconvenience had always been something I had to endure by myself.

Not seeing the steps clearly was my own carelessness.

Bumping into the corner of a table was because I wasn’t paying attention.

Being afraid of the dark at night was because I was being dramatic.

But I finally realized that there were places in this world willing to move even an inch for you.

During finals, I ranked first in my class and received the title of Most Promising Warrior.

Mrs. Holt handed me my transcript and smiled, “Daisy, you’re truly amazing.”

I held the transcript, feeling slightly dazed.

I had always ranked first before too. But back then, hardly anyone in my family truly paid attention.

Mom would say, “Your grades have always been good. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Dad would say, “Don’t become arrogant.”

Logan would casually toss my medals into a drawer.

Xander would praise me sometimes.

But whenever Skylar cried, he would always turn around and comfort her.

Now, when my mentor sincerely told me that I was amazing, I finally realized something.

I had wanted to be praised too.

Before winter break, Mom sent me an email.

She told me that the house had become painfully quiet after Skylar’s post spread online, with many pack members distancing themselves from them. Skylar had stopped playing the piano and spent every day locked in her room, Dad’s temper had become increasingly unbearable, and Logan had tried to come find me

several times, only for her to stop him every time.

At the end, she wrote: [Daisy, Mom misses you so much.]

After reading it, I closed the email and didn’t reply.

Maybe she truly did miss me, but perhaps she wasn’t missing the person I had become. She was missing the old Daisy, the girl who softened at the sight of her tears, who always stood up for Skylar, and who silently swallowed every hurt she endured without letting anyone see her pain. That Daisy had already remained in the attic of the old pack house eight years ago, and she was never coming back.

During winter break, I didn’t go home.

I stayed at school and worked with Mrs. Holt on a volunteer project.

The project helped visually impaired children adapt to campus life.

The first time I visited the special school, a little girl held my hand.

She stared at my left eye and asked quietly, “If someone only has one eye, does that mean nobody will like

them? Will their mate reject them? Does that mean I’ll never find my mate?”

I crouched down and looked at her.

Her eyes were clear and innocent. Just like mine before I turned ten.

I held her hand, “No.”

“Having one less eye doesn’t mean you have one less reason to be loved. And your mate won’t reject you because you have one less eye.”

“If someone truly thinks that way, then you should be the one to reject them.”

“There will always be someone who loves you exactly as you are.”