Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 81: Home
Abby

The scent of mahogany and bergamot fills the air as I step into the room that was once mine—our

room, really.

I feel so drawn to the familiarity of it all; the embroidered curtains, the chestnut armoire that I remember

picking out myself, and the plush rug that used to cu shion my bare feet in the mornings. Every little

detail is still the same, just as I remember it. It’s uncanny, really.

My fingers trace the intricate patterns on the upholstery of the armchair near the window. It’s a bit

surreal, being back in this space. I mean, this was my sanctuary once. Our sanctuary. But now, it’s

filled with… bittersweet memories. Maybe more bitter than sweet.

I move to the dresser next. That’s when I see it: a photo of us, still sitting exactly where it used to be on

top of the dresser—Karl and I laughing at something, looking so young, so naive. My eyes widen

slightly as I gently pick it up. Did he have this picture up all this time?

As I hold the picture, something stirs in me. Tears begin to p rick the backs of my eyes, and I have to set

the frame back down with a ragged breath, laying the photo flat so I don’t need to look at it. Suddenly, it

feels all too stuffy in here, and I need to get out for a bit.

I make my way down the winding staircase and out through the large foyer, by pas sing the glances of a

few household staff. When I reach the back patio, I take a deep breath, as if I can finally breathe again.

Then, pushing open the door, I step into the garden, a sanctuary that I used to escape to when the

weight of the world felt unbearable.

The colors and smells envelop me instantly, filling my senses with a mix of nostalgia and tranquility.

Rows of roses, lavender, and daisies stretch out in front of me like an artist’s vivid canvas. I walk past a

bunch of lilies, their heads tilted towards the sun, and reach the jasmine vine that was always my

favorite. Leaning in, I take a deep sniff. Its scent is as intoxicating as I remember.

For a moment, I feel free from the memories and the speculation that my return is no doubt generating.

But then, feeling as though someone is watching me, I look up instinctively toward the mansion.

Overhead in a window, that’s where I see Gerald, the butler, staring at me through one of the back

windows.

his eyes, they hold a certain…bewilderment? Or is is something

gazes meet, he abruptly steps away from the window and

embarrassment and curiosity. It must be odd for him

the ex-Luna now an unexpected

here still believe that I cheated on Karl with

to dispel the uneasy feeling that settles

see me. After all, I doubt Karl made a big announcement about my

the theory about my nonexistent

take one last look around the garden, breathing in deeply

Then, I make my way back towards the house. Just as I reach the patio door, it

there stands Elsie, one of the maids I had

know it,

good to see you,” I murmur, returning the hug with

back to look at me. “Is life

as it

silence hangs in the air before she finally asks the question

Karl…” Her words trail off, but her implication

cheeks flush a deep red. “No, no, nothing like that,” I

to visit, that’s all.”

a knowing smirk, and I instantly

have

as daylight. In her eyes, Karl and I could never just be “friends”. And

deny it, a part of me

Elsie,” I say softly. “It’s good to

way back into the house, each step carrying a different weight,

of the staircase, I hear Karl’s voice drifting from the

strange little leap. Maybe Elsie’s smirk

ping of my phone and my

from my pocket and see a message from Ethan. He’s asking a question about

wait until I get home. But

be a

through responding when the sound of footsteps approaches behind

I whip around to see Karl standing on the step below me. He has a knowing look on his

sparkle in

second, I’m transported back to a time when this was an

occurrence.

to the phone in my

enjoying the weekend off.”

embarrassed shrug, I avert my gaze. “Maybe

reaches for my phone, gently taking it from me. “Abby,

couple of days. Just try to relax.

him, partly exasperated but mostly grateful. He always

No more work. I get

missed more than I care to admit.

here, and now I’m free until my meeting. How about some

you

…

much since I was last here three years