Reclaiming My Broken Luna by Selene Souchon

Chapter 283: Runner

Nova's POV

My hands curled into tight fists at my sides, anger boiling inside me. How could Michael assume I hadn't fought for Drystan?

How could he stand there and accuse me of running away when he had no clue what I had been through? "You don't understand, Michael," I snapped, my voice trembling with a mix of frustration and grief. "I did confess my feelings to him. I put my heart on the line, and you know what happened? He rejected me," my voice wavered.

"Don't you realize how humiliating that was? To bear my soul, only to be turned away?" I saw guilt flicker across his face as my words hit home.

"Drystan made it painfully clear that I'd never be more than a friend. And now, you're standing here, telling me to go through that again? To relive that pain? Why? So I can watch him choose Astrid over me again?" I saw a change in Michael's expression-a hint of regret, maybe, but he didn't back down. "That was three years ago, Nova. People change. What if Drystan feels differently now?"

I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. I refused to fall into that trap again. "It doesn't matter, Michael. I could confess a thousand times, and it would always end the same. He will always choose Astrid."

She's everything I'm not, and I'm done pretending I have a chance." My voice broke as I shoved more clothes into my bag, the finality of my words echoing in the silence.

Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident. But when he spoke again, his tone was gentler. "But what if you're wrong? What if he has changed?"

exasperation, feeling my patience wear thin. I had already said my

the way he looks at you, Nova. You think I haven't noticed? The way his eyes linger when you're not looking, the way his jaw tightens whenever he sees us together, like he's...

as his little sister, Michael. It's

made to my sister. It's not romantic, no matter what you think." The words stung, a harsh truth I had come to accept

"I'm a guy,

blow to the chest, stirring a flicker of hope that I quickly smothered. Could Drystan have changed? No, I couldn't let myself believe it. I refused to be that

tightened my grip on the bag's strap, willing myself to keep breathing. "Even if you're right, it changes nothing," I whispered, my voice barely steady. "I've made up my mind, Michael. I can't

things. We're leaving," I muttered before brushing past him and walking out of the room, each step

****************

with

a few times as if searching for one last opening to change

was thick, suffocating, but I didn't have the energy to break it. I had already said all I needed to

his bag

the conflict on his face- he didn't want to leave, didn't want me to leave - but he knew arguing would only push me further

seat, shutting the door a bit too hard. Michael got behind the wheel, still