Underwater: The Silent Luna novel Chapter 57

Chapter 57

Meadow had never felt so lonely in her life.

The mansion had grown impossibly quiet without Ethan’s presence, too quiet, too wide, too empty. Even the sound of the wind brushing the curtains felt louder now, echoing through the halls like a whisper meant only to remind her that she was alone. Three days had passed since he left, and each night she found herself drifting back to his room as though pulled by an invisible thread

tied somewhere deep inside her chest.

She slept in his bed.

Not because she had to.

But because it was the only place that still smelled like him.

Pine.

Cedar.

And something warm she couldn’t name.

His clothes still lay folded neatly in the drawers. His book rested where he had left it by the bedside. Even the impression of his

body in the mattress felt faintly preserved, as though the bed itself remembered him. Meadow would lie there in the dark with her

hands pressed over her heart, listening to the silence, willing it into sound.

She kept hoping she would wake to the soft mechanical whirr of his wheelchair near the mirror. Or the gentle rasp of his voice

greeting her in the morning. But every dawn came without him, bringing only pale light and the ache of disappointment.

She thought about calling him so many times.

Her fingers would hover over the phone, her heart racing with the desperate need to hear him-to confirm he was safe, to remind

herself that he was real and not something her lonely mind had imagined. But every time, she stopped herself.

He was on a business trip.

Important negotiations.

Dangerous alliances.

She didn’t want to become a distraction.

So she waited.

Waiting became her routine. Waiting became her breathing. Waiting was the only power she felt she was allowed to have.

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Chapter 57

Amber remained indifferent to her during meals-neither cruel nor kind. Just distant. Untouched. Unbothered. And strangely, do one

troubled her. No insults. No sharp remarks. No silent humiliations whispered behind napkins and wineglasses.

It

felt… odd.

The mansion had always thrived on judgment and quiet cruelty. Now it was suspended in something unfamiliar. Stillness.

Ashley, on the other hand, had been noticeably kind. Too kind.

She smiled at Meadow in passing. Sometimes offered her tea. Once even held the door open when Meadow’s hands were full.

Meadow found it strange.

But she chose not to let it trouble her.

What troubled her was Victoria.

Knowing her friend would be leaving the next day made Meadow’s chest ache in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Victoria had become her anchor during Ethan’s absence-the only voice that filled the emptiness with warmth and laughter. Without Victoria, the mansion would return to being what it had always been: a maze of long hallways and whispered judgments that followed her

like shadows.

They sat together by the lake that afternoon, the water calm, reflecting the pale overcast sky. The wind carried the scent of damp soil and distant pine, and the world felt paused between movement and stillness.

“So,” Victoria said softly, nudging Meadow with her shoulder, “what will you do when I leave?”

Meadow stared at the water for a moment before lifting her hands to sign.

“Wait for my husband to come home. My studio is almost ready. I plan on starting an art project.”

Victoria turned sharply toward her.

“You’re serious?”

Meadow nodded.

Victoria’s lips parted in surprise first-then her entire face lit up with excitement.

“So you’re really going for it?”

Meadow nodded again-slower this time, but firmer.

Victoria squealed and pulled her into a tight hug, nearly knocking the breath from Meadow’s lungs.

“I am so happy for you,” she said breathlessly. “I knew it. I knew you would find your way back to yourself. Let me know if you need

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Chapter 57

anything. Hopefully Alpha Ethan would let me visit occasionally.”

Meadow returned the hug gently, carefully, as though afraid the moment might shatter if she held on too tightly.

When Victoria pulled back, her eyes were warm with quiet pride.

She was glad Meadow had finally chosen to live.

To create.

To dream without fear.

Even though Victoria still did not trust the McClouds or their intentions, even though she felt Meadow deserved far better, she was

grateful that Ethan had given Meadow something she had almost lost forever.

Purpose.

A reason to wake up beyond survival.

Soon, it was time for dinner.

And Meadow felt the dread settle into her stomach immediately, heavy and familiar.

The dining room demanded a different version of her, one that was quiet in the right way, delicate in the right way, obedient in the

right way. One that existed only as a shadow of others.

She stood in front of her mirror longer than usual, adjusting her clothes with trembling fingers. The reflection staring back at her

looked softer than it used to, but more afraid, too. Her shoulders drew inward without permission, as though her body already

anticipated scrutiny.

She wished she could skip dinner altogether. Retreat to Ethan’s room. Hide beneath his covers until he returned and the world felt

safer again.

But Amber would not take such a thing lightly.

And Ethan was not here to shield her.

So she dressed carefully. Not too plain. Not too bold. Not too noticeable.

And with Victoria by her side, she walked toward the dining room.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

Meadow made sure they arrived on time.

Not early.

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Not late.

Exactly on time.

Amber noticed immediately.

“I see you are learning fast, Meadow,” she said calmly, her gaze sharp and assessing.

It wasn’t quite praise.

But it wasn’t punishment either.

Meadow signed politely, “Thank you, Luna,” and Victoria translated without hesitation.

Amber’s eyes lingered on Meadow longer than usual as she took her seat. Not with anger. Not with cruelty. Just… observation.

As though reassessing something she thought she had already understood.

Ashley noticed.

And she did not like it.

Her fork paused for half a second too long. Her eyes darkened briefly before the pleasant mask slid back into place.

Dinner passed in tense silence. Cutlery clinked softly against porcelain. The low murmur of conversation never rose above polite

tones. Meadow barely tasted her food. Her attention remained fixed on Amber’s presence at the head of the table, on the shifting

emotions she couldn’t hear but somehow still felt.

After the plates were cleared, Amber placed her hands flat against the polished table and addressed them.

“I would like both of you to join me for shopping tomorrow.”

Meadow blinked in shock.

The word shopping felt unreal in Amber’s mouth, as though spoken in the wrong language. Victoria looked just as surprised, but

recovered quickly.

“You can come with one of your staff,” Amber added, her face stern, “so they can help us communicate better.”

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Underwater: The Silent Luna