Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 259: Shadow Of The Past.

Chapter 259: Shadow Of The Past.

Nova’s POV

For the first time in a long time, I felt... light. Carefree, even. It was as if the world, heavy with its expectations and worries, had quietly released its grip on me; and in return for every struggle, every sleepless night, the universe had sent me something—or rather, someone. His name? Eldur.

The moment Eldur and I returned from that job hunting trip, everything had changed. The tight knot in my chest unraveled when I got the job at Prologue Pages, and though Eldur didn’t say it outright, I knew, without a doubt, he had something to do with it.

That grumpy old man, the one who barely looked up from his crossword puzzle when I walked in, had suddenly become the picture of enthusiasm the moment Eldur flashed him that eerie, slightly terrifying smile of his. The way the old man’s attitude had done a complete 180 made it painfully clear that Eldur had pulled some unseen strings behind the scenes. I couldn’t even bring myself to be mad about it. Because for once, it felt good to be on the receiving end of someone’s influence.

I wasn’t exactly sure what had changed, but something in me had. Maybe it was the job. Maybe it was just having Eldur by my side, his unpredictable and bizarre ways somehow making everything feel like it would be okay. Maybe it was just... being seen in a way I hadn’t been in a long time. But for the first time in forever, I felt like I could breathe without fear of the world choking me.

I had a job. I could finally contribute, it all felt like I was finally getting my life together. Eldur made it possible. Even before we got into the same school, he was always looming in the background, always somehow making things easier for me. I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be slightly terrified by how much he could make things bend to his will. In anyway, I was grateful.

********

I hadn’t expected the party to be so... well, loud. The kind of loud that vibrates your chest and makes your head feel like it’s stuffed with cotton. Ember & Ash wasn’t the worst place, don’t get me wrong. But it felt like every person there had something to prove. The thumping music, the flashing lights—it all seemed so frantic, so... desperate. So unnatural.

Lara, of course, was in her element. She was practically glowing, her sequins catching every bit of light as if she was the party’s star attraction. She didn’t get it, though. She didn’t understand how overwhelming all of it felt to me. But I wasn’t going to be a buzzkill. Not tonight.

I had to admit, I was looking forward to seeing Eldur outside of our usual, quiet spaces. He’d seemed... different since the job hunt today, and I had no idea what to make of it. I mean, I was still adjusting to the idea of spending time with someone like him, someone who could command the room with just his presence.

Tonight, I couldn’t help feeling excited just by standing side by side with him. He was, standing tall, dressed in his usual dark, effortless style. He looked calm, cool, and... well, powerful. I couldn’t help but be drawn to him like a moth to light. But as we stepped further into the bar, my stomach dropped. A crowd suddenly started growing around him, and little by little I was pushed to the background.

They were asking him questions. Complimenting him. Trying to connect with him. Each word they said seemed to land with a clink, like they were trying to pry open a box they couldn’t quite reach. I wasn’t jealous, not at all. Eldur was just... well, Eldur. Everyone wanted a piece of him. It wasn’t about me not wanting them to get close. It was about something deeper. A feeling I couldn’t shake, no matter how hard I tried.

I felt my pulse quicken. My breath caught in my throat. The laughter, the talking, the attention—it felt like it was closing in on me. I didn’t want to be in the center of it. I didn’t want to be seen. And I sure as hell didn’t want to watch Eldur enjoying it.

I turned on my heel before anyone could notice I was slipping away, weaving through the crowd with practiced speed. Lara called my name, but it barely registered in my mind. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stay there.

I grabbed my jacket, rushed out of the bar, and flagged down a taxi. My heart pounded in my chest, and the air in my lungs felt like it was turning to stone. The city outside the cab was a blur of neon lights and empty promises. I barely noticed the ride.

The taxi dropped me off near a quiet park, its once-lush trees now bare, with the faintest rustle of wind shaking the dead leaves. I wanted silence. I wanted to drown out the noise of everything—the music, the laughter, the pressure of being seen. I walked through the park, the cold air biting at my skin, until I found a secluded bench. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

I sat there, staring at the empty space in front of me. The world seemed quieter here. There was a kind of peace in the solitude, even though my mind was a mess of tangled thoughts.

Why had I run? Why had I let it all get to me?

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be around Eldur. He was Eldur. The same guy who made me laugh, who made me feel like maybe I wasn’t just another face in the crowd. I felt safe with him—sometimes more than I felt safe with myself. It was something else entirely. Something I’d buried deep down for ten years.

It was my mother.

God, not again.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the memories away, but they were there, creeping up like smoke, filling my lungs until I couldn’t breathe.

I was just a kid when my mother started talking about becoming a celebrity. At first, it sounded like a joke—something she said to pass the time, something she said to keep herself occupied while she ran errands or cleaned the house. But she didn’t stop there. No. She worked for it. She took every acting class she could find, every audition she could get herself into. She got herself into shape, did her makeup like she was preparing for war, and wore clothes that screamed look at me.

And she succeeded.

But when she did, everything changed.

She didn’t want anything to do with my dad and me anymore. She hated us. No, she wasn’t ashamed of us—she was ashamed of herself. Ashamed that she’d spent so many years in a small, no-name town with a man who loved her more than life itself, doing nothing more than working a job that barely paid the bills. My dad, a simple man, who worked as a mechanic in a greasy, rundown garage that smelled like engine oil and sweat. He was steady, dependable, and kind to a fault. But that wasn’t what my mother wanted. She wanted glamor. She wanted to be adored. She wanted people to worship her like they did those famous faces on the big screen.

So, she abandoned us.

It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t like one day she just packed up and left. No. It was a slow fade, a gradual erosion of everything I had ever known. At first, she’d come home late, telling me how good things were going, how she was getting closer to making it big. Then, she stopped coming home altogether. She stopped answering my calls, stopped acknowledging my existence. Her new life was her priority, and we—my dad and I—had become a burden.

I remember the day she finally left. I was sitting on the porch when I saw her car pull up. She got out, wearing a dress that glittered in the sun, heels that clicked against the pavement with each step. She was stunning. I hadn’t seen her look like that in years. I was so excited, thinking she was finally coming home. Maybe things would be different. Maybe we could be a family again.

But then she said it.

"I’m moving to the city, Nova. I can’t keep pretending this life is mine anymore. I’m not coming back."

I didn’t understand it then. I couldn’t understand it. Not at ten years old. But I saw the look in her eyes, the way she avoided looking at my dad. The shame. And I knew—knew—that it wasn’t just about her career. It was about her wanting to escape everything we were.

She left. And we were left with nothing.

My father, the man who had loved her with everything he had, fell apart. It wasn’t immediate, but it was inevitable. He’d always been a drinker, but it had never been this bad. He’d never been this broken. I would come home from school to find him passed out on the couch, empty bottles scattered around him like confetti at a party he hadn’t been invited to.

And then came the night. The night he died.

I remember the phone call. The officer on the other end telling me my dad had been in an accident. He was drunk, they said, and he’d run into the street, right in front of a car that couldn’t stop in time. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just... stared. Stared at the phone, unable to move, unable to comprehend the finality of it all. My father was gone, and she? She never came. Not once. Not for the funeral. Not for me.

She just... stayed gone.

That was the night I swore I would never let myself be hurt like that again. That night I promised myself I would never let anyone get close enough to shatter me like that. Fame. Attention. All of it—it scared me. It made me feel small and unimportant. And when Eldur stood there tonight, surrounded by all those people, all those hands trying to touch him, those eyes trying to drink him in, I felt like I was dying.

Because in those moments, I saw my mother’s face again.

I felt the crushing weight of being invisible, of being overshadowed, of being abandoned.

And I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be that person.

I ran.

I ran away, not knowing where my feet would take me, until I found myself sitting here, on this damn bench, my heart a heavy lump in my chest.

I didn’t even realize I was crying until I heard footsteps approach. They were heavy, deliberate, and filled with the same quiet authority that had made me feel both small and seen all at once. I knew who it was before I even looked up.

Eldur.

I didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t want to see the concern in his eyes, the pity. But I couldn’t stop myself. His presence was a pull, something magnetic.

He sat beside me on the bench, his weight shifting the cold metal beneath us. There was a long pause before he spoke, his voice low, almost hesitant.

"Nova..."

I didn’t know what to say. The words were trapped in my throat, a mix of frustration, fear. All I could feel at that moment was an overwhelming urge to hide.

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