Ch. The Rejected Luna’s Secret 87 The Rejected Luna’s Secret 87

Chapter 5 

Selene’s POV 

Julian bent down to retrieve the fallen scroll, but before his fingers could touch it, my hand moved faster, snatching it up and tucking it against my chest. 

His gaze followed the motion, landing on the parchment now cradled protectively in my arms. 

Understanding flickered across his face. 

“That’s the document you asked me to sign last time, isn’t it?” he said, a smile tugging at his lips, 

relieved. 

I realized then-he hadn’t seen clearly what it was. 

I nodded, feeling a weight lift from my chest even as a fresh wave of bitterness rose behind it. 

Julian laughed softly, the tension draining from his body. 

“Why are you treating it like such a treasure?” he teased. “I told you, Selene. Anything I gave you is yours. I can handle whatever it means.” 

I didn’t answer, afraid that if I opened my mouth, the truths buried in my heart would come spilling 

out. 

Instead, I changed the subject. 

“You said you got me a gift,” I said, keeping my voice light. “What is it?” 

His face brightened instantly. 

“Come on, I’ll show you,” he said, reaching into the drawer and pulling out a set of keys. 

He jingled them playfully before leading me outside. 

The destination was a newly built estate on the outskirts of the Pack’s residential territory. 

Julian’s hand rested lightly on my lower back as he guided me through the front gates. 

“You always said the old house felt too formal, too cold,” he said warmly. “So I bought a new one. Designed everything the way you like.” 

As we passed through the back garden, a sea of violet orchids swayed gently in the breeze. 

My breath caught. 

Butterfly orchids-my favorite. 

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“I remembered you liked them,” Julian said softly beside me. “So I had the entire garden 

transplanted.” 

He led me further inside. 

At the end of a wide corridor, he pushed open a door revealing a nursery, filled with soft furniture, tiny clothes, and toys crafted from the finest materials. 

Standing behind me, Julian wrapped his arms around my waist and spoke against my ear, his volce, low and filled with visions of a future he had spun in his mind. 

“When our pup is born, this will be his room,” he murmured. “Close enough that we can watch over him, but far enough that we’ll still have our time together.” 

He pressed a gentle kiss to my temple. 

“Have you thought about a name?” he asked, almost shyly. “I was thinking… you’re Selene, and I love everything about you. Maybe we can name him Soren, or if it’s a girl, maybe something like 

Seren.” 

He chuckled softly. 

But I didn’t laugh. 

I didn’t speak. 

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the room into a wash of soft pastels and muted shadows. 

Julian, misunderstanding, wiped my tears with his thumb, smiling indulgently. 

“Moved you that much, huh?” 

I said nothing. 

Only I knew I wasn’t crying from joy. 

I was mourning. 

Mourning the dreams I had once dared to believe in. 

Mourning the bond that was dying by inches, even as he stood there weaving new promises he would never keep. 

The fragile illusion shattered moments later. 

From the doorway, a bright, familiar voice chimed in: 

“Julian! Selene! What a coincidence.” 

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Claire Lancaster entered, her smile sweet, her eyes locked firmly on Julian. 

“I was looking at this estate too,” she said breezily. “The agent told me someone had just bought it I had no idea it was you two!” 

She laughed lightly, almost carelessly, but the determination in her gaze was anything but casual. 

“I just came back to the Pack, and I don’t have a place to stay yet. Would you mind… letting me have 

this house?” 

Her tone was polite, but her eyes gleamed with a confidence that assumed victory. 

I didn’t speak. 

I didn’t move. 

Julian’s hand at my waist stiffened. 

His calm facade cracked for the briefest second. 

If it had been any other house, I knew, he would have agreed without hesitation. 

And if it had been a few days ago-before guilt had begun to gnaw at him-he might have hesitated 

a little longer. 

But it was Claire. 

Of course it was Claire. 

Claire, who knew exactly how to tilt her head, how to let her voice tremble at just the right moment. 

“Julian, please,” Claire said, voice dipping into a soft whimper. “I love this place so much. It’s exactly what I dreamed of. Please, just this once?” 

Julian hesitated. 

His fingers twitched against my side. 

I closed my eyes for a brief second, bracing myself. 

Then he sighed and nodded. 

“Alright,” he said, voice low, almost apologetic. “You can have it.” 

He turned toward me, guilt heavy in his eyes. 

“Selene,” he said gently, “the pup’s not born yet. We’ll find another house. One just like this. I 

promise.” 

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The words fell between us, brittle and empty. 

Promises, like dead leaves, crumbling at the slightest touch. 

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