Underwater: The Silent Luna novel Chapter 75

Chapter 75

Ethan lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling as quiet realisation seeped into him like slow dawn.

Not sudden.

Not blinding.

But gentle.

For the first time in seven years…

He felt alive.

The truth startled him.

Not just breathing.

Not merely existing.

Living.

The distinction struck him with a weight that made his throat tighten. For years, he had measured his days in silence, in the space between pain and endurance, in the slow passage of hours where nothing truly changed. Survival had been his only goal. Now, without warning, survival had turned into something else entirely.

Hope.

His time with Meadow had shifted something fundamental inside him, something he had long buried beneath shame, bitterness, and loss. With her, there had been no judgment in her eyes when she looked at him. No revulsion. No obligation. Only warmth. Curiosity. Care.

Cynthia’s voice, once so loud in his head, had finally faded.

The echo of that laughter.

The casual cruelty of her words.

The way she had looked at him as though his broken body had made him unworthy of love.

The words that had haunted him, the ones that had branded him a burden, no longer held power over him.

They were finally quiet.

Meadow had made him feel like a man again.

D

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Chapter 75

Not a broken Alpha.

Not a shadow.

Not a reminder of what once was.

But a man.

A husband.

A heartbeat that still mattered.

Silently, he thanked the goddess for her.

For her honesty.

For her patience.

For the way she touched him without fear.

And in the privacy of his own soul, he made a vow he had never dared to speak aloud before,

He would be invested in this marriage.

No conditions.

No half-measures.

No hiding.

Not from her.

Not from himself.

“Meadow,” he said softly.

She lifted her gaze to him, her eyes calm, warm, and full of quiet happiness. There was no question in them, no fear of what he might say, only openness.

“I want you to make this wing feel like home,” he continued, his voice steady with intention. “Do you want to redesign the room, and the entire wing, to suit your liking as my wife?”

For a long second, she simply stared at him.

As though she were trying to determine whether she had imagined the words.

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Chapter 75

Then she beamed.

The kind of smile that lit her entire face and reached into her soul. The kind that made his chest tighten all over again. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t reserved.

It was pure.

She sat up quickly and nodded with unrestrained excitement.

He laughed at the sight.

A real laugh.

Free of bitterness.

Free of restraint.

“I want to take pictures and place them too,” she signed eagerly.

The enthusiasm in her hands, in her eyes, in her entire being, was contagious.

His laughter deepened. He nodded without hesitation.

“Anything you want.”

The words came easily.

Without calculation.

Without fear of loss.

Their fingers found each other naturally, intertwining without thought. The connection felt inevitable, as though their hands had always known where to go. His gaze drifted down to her left hand, bare.

Unmarked.

Unclaimed.

No symbol.

No public promise.

His smile faded into a thoughtful frown.

“We need to do something about that,” he murmured.

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Chapter 75

She followed his gaze to her hand, confusion flickering across her features as she looked at their intertwined fingers, unsure of his

meaning.

Ethan smiled and lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a slow, tender kiss to her knuckles.

The gesture was quiet.

But it carried the weight of intention.

“I’ll do everything within my capacity to make this work,” he promised.

Not as an Alpha.

Not as a man burdened by what he had lost.

But as a husband choosing his life again.

Her eyes softened.

She nodded once, firmly.

“Me too,” she signed with her right hand.

The agreement was simple.

Uncomplicated.

True.

He pulled her closer.

She rested her head against his chest and kissed it gently, as though sealing her promise with that small, sacred act.

The kiss wasn’t seductive.

It was reverent.

Grateful.

Anchoring.

Ethan ran his fingers through her hair slowly, soothingly, committing the feel of her to memory. The silk of it between his fingers. The warmth of her against his chest. The rhythm of her breathing that matched his.

He had lied to his mother when he said he would try.

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Because this,

This wasn’t trying.

This was choosing.

And he loved every second of it.

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Underwater: The Silent Luna