Underwater: The Silent Luna novel Chapter 12

Chapter 12

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After breakfast, Ethan wheeled himself out of the dining hall without a single glance at her, and Meadow followed quietly, her steps light and cautious. They returned to the dark, spacious bedroom, the one that now served as both their marital suite and her prison cell.

Ethan went straight to his desk, positioning himself with practised ease before returning to whatever he had been working on. The glow of the computer screen caught the hard angles of his cheekbones, making him appear carved from shadow and bitterness.

Meadow sat on the same couch she had chosen the night before, hands folded on her lap. She had no idea what was expected of her during the day. The room had been cleaned while they were gone; the bedding was fresh, the surfaces wiped, the air smelling faintly of pine and disinfectant.

Everything was in order.

Everything except her.

Ethan didn’t speak to her.

Didn’t look at her.

Didn’t need her.

So she simply remained seated, waiting for time to pass.

Minutes stretched into an hour.

An hour into two.

Silence filled the room, a heavy silence, barely softened by the soft clicking of Ethan’s keyboard. Meadow stared at the curtains, the

carpet, her hands… anything but him. She didn’t want to disturb him. She didn’t want to breathe too loudly.

Then, without warning, the door opened.

Two servants wheeled in carts stacked high with books, dozens upon dozens of them. Hardback tomes, leather covers, glossy spines. They quietly arranged them on an empty, dusted shelf along the far wall.

Meadow blinked in surprise. Books? For her?

Once the servants finished, bowed, and left, Ethan finally spoke.

“Sitting there staring at nothing is distracting me,” he muttered, still typing. “Find something useful to do.”

His hand lifted in a vague gesture toward the newly filled bookshelf.

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Meadow blinked again.

Books.

Not chores.

Not demands.

Not cruel instructions.

Books.

Her heart fluttered in her chest.

Books were her sanctuary, her escape, her solace, the only place her silence didn’t imprison her. When she read, she wasn’t mute. She

wasn’t invisible. She wasn’t broken. She was whole.

The sight of the shelf, filled with thick novels, histories, research texts, and anthologies, felt like a miracle, a lifeline tossed into a stormy

sea.

Slowly, almost reverently, she rose from the couch and walked toward them.

She trailed her fingertips along the spines, savouring the feel of each one. Fiction. Science. Mythology. Pack history. Human literature. A

mix of everything.

Someone had chosen these for her.

Someone had asked for them.

She turned slightly, watching Ethan from the corner of her eye. He hadn’t noticed her gaze; his focus remained fixed on his screen.

Still, someone had done this. And only one person in this house had the authority to.

His command at breakfast.

The second serving he insisted she receive.

The books.

A soft, shy smile crept onto Meadow’s lips.

She couldn’t thank him with words.

She couldn’t thank him with sign language.

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Chapter 12

But she thanked him in silence anyway, in the softening of her eyes, the warmth in her chest, the gentle bow of her head when he wasn’t

looking.

Perhaps this marriage would be strange.

Painful.

Confusing.

But maybe… just maybe… it wouldn’t be pure misery.

Maybe there would be moments like this.

She made a mental note, not a vow, but a promise to herself, to avoid angering him. To stay out of his way. To make this arrangement as

smooth as possible.

He clearly disliked sharing space.

Disliked intrusion.

Disliked noise, conversation, emotional chaos.

So she would be invisible.

Just like she had always been.

She picked a book from the shelf, a soft-covered fiction novel, and curled back onto the couch. The moment she opened the pages, her

world shrank into silence and ink.

The room faded.

The fear numbed.

The pain dulled.

She read until her eyes grew heavy.

Sometime later, she didn’t know when, she drifted into a deep sleep, the book resting against her chest like a shield.

When Meadow woke, the room was slightly darker, the air cooler. She blinked, rubbing her eyes, and looked around.

No Ethan.

Panic flared, had she missed lunch again?

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Chapter 12

Her eyes darted to the digital clock on the wall.

4:00 p.m.

She winced. She had overslept, again. Her body was paying for the sleepless night before. She felt sluggish, heavy, weak.

Carefully, she set the book aside and stood. She didn’t want to wander too much, Ethan’s room was a minefield of boundaries she didn’t

want to cross. But she needed to stretch her legs.

She traced the room’s edges, touching nothing, avoiding the desk entirely. The windows. The dresser. The bare vanity. A few framed

photos she didn’t dare examine too closely.

But before long, she returned to the couch, unsure of where else she could belong in this massive room.

She sat quietly, hands folded, waiting for Ethan to return.

A soft knock sounded on the door.

Three servants stepped in, carrying trays of food.

Meadow’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as they approached her with warm smiles.

“Lunch for you, Madam,” one said gently.

She blinked, confused. Why were they smiling like that? Why were they being kind?

Then the truth settled softly onto her heart.

Ethan.

He wasn’t affectionate.

He wasn’t emotional.

He wasn’t gentle.

But he had decided she would be fed.

And in this house, that decision was law.

Luna Amber couldn’t undo it.

Levi couldn’t mock it away.

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Chapter 12

No servant dared challenge it.

The rules were simple:

Ethan had spoken.

And now she would not starve.

Meadow’s chest tightened as a warmth she hadn’t felt in days spread slowly through her ribs. She looked at the tray, still steaming, full of

rice, vegetables, and grilled chicken she loved.

Her stomach rumbled loudly, to the servants’ amusement.

She offered them a shy, grateful nod.

As they left, Meadow tucked into the food with quiet appreciation, tears pricking the corners of her eyes, not of fear this time, but

something gentler.

A strange, cautious hope.

Ethan might not want her.

He might never love her.

He might never accept her as his wife.

But he wasn’t letting Amber starve her.

And he wasn’t leaving her with nothing to do.

And he wasn’t ignoring her needs entirely.

For the first time since entering the mansion…

Meadow felt seen.

Only briefly.

Only faintly.

Only in the shadows of his distance.

But seen.

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Chapter 12

And that alone was enough to carry her through the rest of the day.

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Underwater: The Silent Luna