Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 265: Sea of Regrets

Chapter 265: Sea of Regrets

Nova’s POV

I told him to leave me alone.

So he did.

And I hated it.

Eldur still came to work at Prologue Pages, he showed up for his shifts like clockwork, still carried himself with that calm, otherworldly intensity that somehow made everything else in the room feel smaller. But he didn’t talk to me anymore. Didn’t look at me for longer than necessary. Didn’t hover like some dark, brooding storm cloud anymore.

He just... existed.

Silently. Perfectly. In my orbit but not in my space.

And it was driving me crazy.

I found myself glancing over my shoulder constantly, hoping to catch his silver eyes. They never met mine. Not anymore.

He gave me exactly what I asked for.

Space.

And somehow, it felt worse than rejection.

It was on a Wednesday—mid-afternoon, slow day—that the storm changed color.

I was shelving a stack of worn-out poetry books near the front when the bell over the door jingled. Normally, that would’ve made me glance up lazily, half-distracted. But this time, there was a shift in the air. Not like when Eldur walked in, all static and intensity—but soft. Sweet. Like... lavender and sunshine.

"Oh! Grandpa!"

The voice was gentle, lilting. Almost melodic.

I peeked around the corner and my brain short-circuited for a second.

She was beautiful. Like, annoyingly beautiful. The kind that made you feel like your hair was suddenly too frizzy and your jeans way too baggy. She had caramel-toned skin that glowed under the soft lighting of the bookstore, long curls that cascaded down her back like she lived in a shampoo commercial, and a smile that looked like it could melt entire glaciers.

Our employer—the old man behind the counter—Mr. Hawthorne, who I honestly thought had no relatives at all—beamed. "Amara! You finally made it."

"Had to," she grinned, hugging him. "Can’t let your dusty old self run this place alone forever."

Great. She had manners too.

I hovered behind the poetry section, pretending to sort through Pablo Neruda while eavesdropping with a shameful level of interest.

"Oh," Mr. Hawthorne said, waving vaguely behind him. "That’s Eldur. He works here now."

My eyes jerked to the side just in time to see her turn—and freeze.

Then smile.

"Hi," she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand. "I’m Amara."

Eldur gave her a nod. "Eldur."

That was it. Just his name. Cold and short like he always did with everybody. He didn’t even look at her. Good. Great.

"I’ve heard about you," Amara continued, undeterred. "Grandpa says you’re very... efficient."

Eldur raised an eyebrow at that. "I guess."

And then she giggled. Giggled.

Like she found him mysterious and charming instead of borderline terrifying.

I rolled my eyes so hard I almost pulled a muscle.

Then the old man turned and introduced me as well to her. After that, the old man casually told us that Amara was his granddaughter. I gave her a polite nod, muttered a quick "Hey," and slipped back to my duties.

That should’ve been the end of it. A quick hello, then back to business. But no. Amara came back the next day. And the next. And the day after that. She was suddenly everywhere—unpacking boxes, organizing books, laughing with customers, and chatting with Eldur like they were old friends.

It got worse.

Turns out, Amara was not only gorgeous and graceful and helpful—she was brilliant. Like, straight-A student, future valedictorian, probably-saves-puppies-in-her-free-time kind of brilliant.

And just when I thought I was done spiraling?

She walked into class.

Our class.

Lara nearly choked on her gum. "Who the hell is that?"

"Amara," I muttered, trying not to let my brain explode. "Mr. Hawthorne’s granddaughter."

"The same one you told me about?" I nodded and she gasped.

"She’s in our class now?!"

I nodded, staring at the front of the room where Amara sat next to Eldur like she belonged there.

Lara raised an eyebrow. "Why does she look like a Disney princess who moonlights as a neurosurgeon?"

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

Because right then, Amara leaned toward Eldur and pointed something out in his textbook. He leaned in too, frowning in concentration. She laughed softly. He smirked.

He smirked.

My stomach twisted into a violent pretzel.

I’d never seen him smile like that in class. Not with anyone.

All around us, whispers started bubbling up.

"They’d make such a hot couple."

"Did you see the way she looked at him?"

"I bet they’re already dating."

I wanted to throw my pencil at someone.

Instead, I stared down at my notebook and etched angry little doodles of exploding hearts and crying puppies. Because apparently that’s what my emotional maturity had reduced me to.

Lara gave me a look. "You okay?"

"Fine," I said too quickly. "Why wouldn’t I be?"

"You’re drawing a stick figure stabbing another stick figure labeled ’Amara.’"

"I’m exploring my artistic side."

She snorted. "Girl. Just admit you’re jealous."

"I’m not jealous," I snapped, flipping the page.

Lara smirked. "Uh-huh. And I’m the queen of France."

I tried to pretend it didn’t matter. Tried to remind myself I told Eldur to leave me alone. That I was the one who walked away. That Amara was smart and kind and beautiful and obviously his type.

And maybe she was.

But I hated it.

I hated how she got to laugh with him. How she got to touch his arm without it feeling like a big deal. How he looked at her like she wasn’t a hurricane he was terrified of drowning in.

One afternoon, back at the bookstore, I caught them again. In the back section. Amara had dropped a book, and he bent to pick it up at the same time she did. Their hands touched.

She laughed. He didn’t move away.

I stared too long, frozen behind a display of romance novels, caught between crying and throwing a thesaurus.

"Hey," a voice said beside me, making me jump.

It was Lara.

She gave me a knowing look. "Still not jealous, huh?"

"Leave me alone," I muttered.

Lara crossed her arms. "You know, for someone who says she doesn’t care, you’re doing a really bad job of not looking like you’re dying inside. Besides, you were the one who let him go," she said tossing her gum wrapper in the bin like she hadn’t just drop-kicked my entire nervous system.

I blinked, my voice caught somewhere between denial and another sigh. "I didn’t let him go."

Lara gave me a long, level stare that said: "girl, please."

"Remember you told me how you told him to back off. You gave him the whole ’I need space’ speech while your eyeballs were practically begging him to stay. I mean, what did you think was gonna happen?"

"I thought—" I paused, then shrugged helplessly. "I thought he’d still hang around me."

Lara raised a perfectly shaped brow. "You mean like in those cringey Wattpad stories where the emotionally unavailable guy storms in during a thunderstorm and yells, ’YOU’RE MINE, NOVA!’ in front of a crowd?"

I cracked a reluctant smile. "Well, when you put it like that..."

She plopped her head on my shoulder, sighing dramatically like she carried the weight of my love life on her tiny, glittery shoulders. "You like him."

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to.

She turned her head slightly to looked at me. "And you’re jealous."

I groaned and dropped onto a stack of books, clutching a knee like it was a life preserver in a sea of regret. "Maybe. Okay? Maybe I am. But I have no right to be. Look at him. He’s... he’s happy. With Amara. She’s everything I’m not."

Lara clicked her tongue. "Yeah. Tall, graceful, speaks in full sentences without swearing, probably knows how to make quinoa or whatever." She sat down beside me and gave me a look. "But she’s not you. Eldur liked you, Nova. Like, seriously liked you. In his own broody, terrifying, emotionally stunted way."

I buried my face in my palms. .

"And you ran, girl."

I know.

********

A whole month passed.

A month of watching Eldur and Amara exist in this weird, almost-flirty-but-not-really dance. A month of overanalyzing every little glance, every word he spoke in class, every time she touched his arm and he didn’t flinch.

A month of pretending I didn’t care while Lara slowly lost patience with me.

It got too much.

Too heavy. Too loud in my chest. Too quiet in my apartment.

So I walked to his place.

I didn’t even think it through. I was in my pajamas—sweatpants, oversized hoodie, one sock slightly sliding off—and I walked.

To his apartment.

In the rain.

Because of course it had to rain.

By the time I got there, I was shivering and my curls had achieved new levels of tragic. But I sat on the cold steps anyway, curling my legs under me and waiting.

I had no plan.

No speech prepared.

No dramatic lines or poetic apologies.

Just a heart that wouldn’t shut up and a voice inside me whispering, You let him go. But maybe you can still find him.

The rain dripped from the edge of my hoodie, soaking into the sleeves. My fingers were numb. I hugged myself tighter and exhaled a shaky breath.

And then—

Footsteps.

I looked up just as he rounded the corner of the building, hood up, silver eyes sharp and almost glowing in the lamplight. His white hair was plastered to his forehead. His jacket was soaked. He looked like he’d stepped out of a dream and into a thunderstorm.

Eldur stopped short when he saw me.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Just stared.

My breath caught in my throat.

For a second, all I could hear was rain.

Then his voice, soft and low.

"...Nova?"

I stood up too quickly and nearly slipped, catching myself on the railing. Smooth, Nova. Real smooth.

"I—uh—I didn’t mean to just show up. I know it’s weird. You can tell me to go. I’ll go. I just..." My words tangled together, tripping over panic and soaked hoodie sleeves.

He blinked slowly. "You’re soaked."

"Yeah. I noticed." I laughed awkwardly.

"Why are you here?"

There it was.

The question I had no real answer to. I shrugged, my chest tightening. "I just... I needed to see you."

A long pause.

"Why?" he asked again, quieter this time. His voice had lost its usual edge.

I looked up at him through wet lashes, water clinging to my cheeks like tears I couldn’t claim. "Because I was wrong," I whispered. "Because I told you to leave me alone and I didn’t mean it. Because you smiled at her and I hated it and I don’t know what that makes me."

Eldur took a step closer, his expression unreadable.

"And because every time I tried to forget you, you showed up in my dreams like some annoying storm cloud with great cheekbones."

He blinked.

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