chapter 125
Elena's POV:
I was lost in my sketching when Alfred knocked on the bedroom door, his formal voice cutting through my concentration. "Mrs. Vane, you have a visitor. Lady Cross insists on seeing you."
Luna Cross? I set down my charcoal, surprised.
We'd only known each other for a few days during our overlapping hospital stays, but she'd made quite an impression—sharp-tongued, irreverent, and surprisingly warm beneath her polished exterior.
"Please, show her in," I said, quickly wiping my hands on a cloth.
Luna swept into the room moments later, her designer maternity dress elegantly concealing her pregnancy. Despite her condition, she moved with the confidence of someone who'd never questioned her place in the world.
Her dark eyes swept over my makeshift studio setup by the window, pausing on the scattered design sketches before settling on me with obvious interest.
"I didn't know you were a designer too," she said, picking up one of my jewelry sketches with careful fingers. "These are exquisite."
"Oh, I just draw for fun," I said quickly, feeling oddly exposed. "It's nothing serious."
"Don't be modest," Luna chided, still examining the sketch. "I know talent when I see it."
She set the paper down gently and turned to me with a slightly sheepish expression. "I hope I'm not interrupting? I know I should have called first, but honestly, I'm going stir-crazy. Michael has me on modified bed rest, and if I have to attend one more charity committee meeting about flower arrangements, I might actually scream."
I was surprised she'd sought me out, but found myself genuinely pleased by her visit.
The Vane and Cross families had been connected for generations—it wasn't entirely unusual for her to drop by Blackwood Manor, though seeking me out specifically was unexpected.
"Not at all," I assured her warmly. "I'm equally bored. When you're pregnant, everything suddenly becomes dangerous. Can't ride, can't lift anything heavier than a teacup, can't even walk in the garden without someone hovering." I gestured to the chair by the window, Luna making herself comfortable on it.
"God, yes! I swear, Michael acts like I'm made of glass." She was patting the space beside her. "Come here. Let's be properly pathetic together."
I joined her, and we both looked down at our bellies. We caught each other's eyes and laughed at the absurdity of it all.
"You know," Luna said, placing a hand on her small bump, "if I'm having a boy and you have a girl, we could always arrange something. Keep it in the family, so to speak."
The words had barely left her mouth before her expression darkened. "Actually, no. Forget I said that. That's exactly the kind of archaic thinking that got me into—"
She cut herself off, but the damage was done. The shadow of her own arranged marriage hung between us like a ghost.
"You know," I said gently, "watching you and Michael together, you actually seem well-matched. It's just that you're like I was—fixating on one point and refusing to let go."
I shifted to face her better. "For me, that point was how Sebastian pursued me, how different it was from anything normal or healthy. For you, it's the arranged marriage aspect. When you have that thorn in your mind, you end up fighting against yourself, refusing to let any real feelings develop."
Luna's eyes widened slightly at my observation.
"Sebastian and I didn't start with love either," I continued. "But bad beginnings don't necessarily mean bad endings. Sometimes the journey surprises you."
Luna nodded slowly, her emotional storm passing as quickly as it had arrived. "Maybe," she said, but I could tell she wasn't really convinced.
Luna Cross was someone who made up her own mind. My words might have been heard, but they wouldn't truly sink in until she was ready.
She offered gently. "Whatever our children become, whoever they choose to love—as long as they're happy and free to choose, isn't that what matters?"
I nodded slightly.
The moment shattered as footsteps echoed in the hallway—measured, deliberate, unmistakably male.
"Luna." Michael Cross stood in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space with quiet authority.
His gray eyes—so like Sebastian's in their intensity—fixed on his wife with an unreadable expression.
Luna's chin lifted defiantly. "How did you even know I was here?"
A slight sigh escaped him, the barest crack in his composed facade. "You can't just disappear without telling anyone. I was worried."
"I was just visiting a friend," Luna protested, her voice taking on a petulant edge. "I'm so bored, Michael. I don't even have anyone to talk to anymore."
"It's getting late," he said simply, though something flickered in his eyes at her complaint. "Time to go home."
Luna's shoulders sagged slightly in defeat, but she nodded. "Fine." She turned to me with a more genuine smile. "Thank you for the company, Elena. I'll visit again soon."
"You're always welcome," I assured her.
As they made their way to the door, I followed at a distance, observing them with quiet fascination.
Michael's expression didn't change, but he moved forward to help Luna stand, his hand settling possessively on her lower back. Despite his cold demeanor, I noticed how carefully he supported her weight, how his fingers spread protectively over her spine.
His hand never left Luna's back, and he deliberately slowed his longer stride to match her pregnant waddle.
As they descended the manor steps, I caught the slight tightening of his hand on Luna's waist, the way his body automatically positioned itself between his pregnant wife and the cold wind.
Watching Michael's protective gestures, the way Luna unconsciously leaned into him despite her defiance, I found myself hoping they too would find their way to a good ending.
Sometimes love grew in the most unexpected soil.
The car pulled away, leaving me standing in the doorway with new understanding. Perhaps Luna Cross and I had more in common than either had initially realized.