Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Chatper 240

Abby

The air in the studio feels dense with anticipation as Karl and I walk back to our

station together. The crowd murmurs as they become aware of the implications:

that only Daniel and I are returning, and Bryan, the third contestant, is nowhere

to be found despite the fact that the winners of the second round were never

officially announced.

“You okay?” Karl murmurs as we take our spots, standing next to each other

with our shoulders touching.

I nod and shrug at the same time, a sense of guilt and trepidation washing over

me. “Yes. Sort of. Maybe. I don’t know,” I murmur, clearing my throat subtly.

Enter title…

Karl shoots me a confused look from beneath his blue surgical mask. “What

does that mean?” he asks, worry lacing his voice.

I can’t contain my sigh. “It means that, if it weren’t for Bryan’s mother dying, I

wouldn’t be standing here right now,” I say quietly. “And I’m not sure how to feel

about it, if I’m being honest.”

Karl is silent for a moment before he speaks. “Listen, Abby, I know it’s a shock.

But—”

Suddenly, before he can finish, the director holds up his fingers and begins

counting down from three. The stage falls silent, and the cameras begin rolling.

announcer makes his way across the stage, his

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he starts, “before we

round, we have

the edge of my station.

even as

at him only serves to prove me right; his eyes are still glinting with

of

not be joining us for the final round,” the announcer

ripple through the live audience. “Due to a personal

chosen to withdraw.”

hum,

has passed

moment of silence.”

silence stretches over the crowd, I feel my head bow all on

strange, being a finalist only due to a death. A

knowing that I don’t belong here after my performance in the second

throat and continues. “Now… the

of skill,” he announces. The atmosphere

and excitement winding through the

dish that is

black truffle butter and

My heart lurches.

That dish. My dish.

practiced until my hands moved with the memory of it, the one

truffles as

a coincidence. It feels like fate. It

way,” I murmur, my breath hitching

closer. “I thought

my fingers gripping the edge of the counter

me, I

over the microphone

moment at

shown exceptional skill to get

noise of the crowd. “And now, they will face

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