I SPENT FIFTEEN YEARS AS HIS LUNA THEN HE CALLED ME USELESS

Five days

That’s how long I spent in that cell, starved, cold, reduced to nothing in the eyes of the very people who once bowed in respect when I walked past.

Now they whispered, smirked, pointed like I was a joke.

The moment they let me out, I limped straight to the kitchen.

I didn’t care what I looked like. I tore into a loaf of bread with trembling fingers and drank the last juice box in the fridge like my life depended on it.

Then my phone pinged.

It was a message from Laura.

I didn't even know she had my number.

The message read

[Hey, I know we don’t talk much, but I hope that changes. The dress wasn’t your fault. It was a factory error. Please take something for the pain]

I read it once. Then again.

A production mistake?

After being whipped and locked away like an animal, this was supposed to patch it all up? Was this her version of comfort or guilt dressed in politeness?

I didn’t know whether to scream or cry.

I was still standing there, pasta in hand, water boiling behind me, when my phone pinged again.

This time, the message was from Edwin.

[I’ve asked my beta to issue a cheque for $100,000. That should cover your two weeks]

I laughed bitterly as tears slipped down my cheeks.

So this was it? Money as an apology? As if a check could erase the cell, the slap, the shame?

I could almost hear him: You better take it or leave it. Plenty of women would kill to be you.

I read it once. Then again. Then I deleted and blocked their numbers.

By evening, I needed air. Edwin never let me step outside the packhouse, not even to the market.

But tonight, I will.

I let my hair down. The long blonde curls he once called “ugly” spilled over my shoulders.

From a forgotten box, I pulled out a red dress I used to wear before I stopped trying to get him to notice me.

It clung to my body, showed my legs, made me feel something again.

I slipped into heels, shaky at first, but steady after a few steps.

Then I withdrew a little from my secret stash just enough for the night and went to the club.

I didn’t know how the night would end.

But tonight, I planned to forget. Even if just for a few hours.

Once, Laura came home raving about the club music and drinks.

I begged Edwin to take me too, just once.

He snapped.

“A Luna has no business in a club. No self-respecting woman does.”

But every Friday, he took Laura there to catch up over drinks and dance to loud music.

So tonight, I walked in on my own.

Heads turned. Men whistled. Women smiled. Complimented my dress, my hair.

I didn’t know how to respond. I just smiled awkwardly and kept walking.

At the bar, I ordered a few shots of liquor Edwin always said wasn’t “ladylike.”

I sipped slowly, scrolling through my phone, trying to distract myself from the crowd.

Then I saw it. A post from Katrina, our childhood friend.

I tapped it.

It was them.

Edwin and Laura. Exchanging vows in the Moonstone Sanctum.

Kissing like it wasn’t their first time.

Like I had never existed.

I watched as Edwin lifted Laura in his arms, spinning her around the sanctum, calling her the most beautiful wife.

My mother was in the background, crying.

“I’ve waited so long for this day,” she said.

The glass slipped from my hand and shattered.

My marriage meant nothing. I was just a sacrifice. A stepping stone he used to rise to Alpha.

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, tossed a few bills on the counter, and walked out.

Across the street was a spa I had passed a thousand times with Edwin in the car but never dared to enter.

A young woman smiled as I stepped in.

“Welcome to deluxe spa house”

“I’m here for a full facial and body massage,” I said.

The woman at the desk smiled and took my details. After a moment of checking, she looked up.

“We only have a male masseuse available right now.”

I smiled. “That’s fine.”

If Edwin could cheat with my sister, then I had every right to feel the touch of another man even if it was just for peace.

Inside the room, the masseuse’s hands moved with expert ease, kneading through the tension I didn’t realize I’d been carrying for years.

I passed my phone to the receptionist, asked her to take a few pictures and short clips.

As his hands moved to my lower back, I took a deep breath and made a call to a close friend at the pack court—someone who’d once offered to help when I was ready.

Then I made the call I’d been avoiding for years now.

“I’m done with this marriage ” I said simply. “It’s time I chose myself.”