When He Chose Another Under the Moon

I clutched the hallway walls as if they alone could anchor me, my body trembling violently under the weight of fury and despair.

Kyle’s impatience radiated through the space between us, carried on the quiet hum of our mindlink. “Sandra, why must you be so unyielding? No soul is perfect—where has your mercy vanished?” His tone sharpened ever so slightly, betraying the irritation he could no longer contain.

He had once witnessed the depths of my suffering, the relentless torment inflicted by Selindra and her mother, driving me to the brink of despair. Back then, he had argued with them on my behalf, unafraid of fury, even when it risked unleashing his own wrath. And now, what madness had led him to stand against me, to defend the very ones who had haunted my life for so long?

I let the pain surge through me, my words heavy with every memory and scar I carried. “Unless she dies before my very eyes, I will never forgive her!” I stated, each word a blade carved from years of torment.

Kyle’s brow creased, his pulse quickening, the familiar fire of his temper beginning to flare. This was the same look he had worn when he had raged at Selindra and her mother on my behalf, yet now it was directed at me.

“Sandra!” he exclaimed, voice low but fierce, echoing across the corridor. “How have you grown so bitter in merely two years? If you cannot find it in yourself to forgive her, then at least offer an apology to Selindra. I cannot endure the thought of others mocking my mate as spiteful or vindictive!”

I clenched my jaw, my pulse racing with both anger and disbelief.

“Your mother’s own choices brought ruin upon her life. If she had considered your youth, your father would never have been forced to remarry. You cannot blame every misfortune upon Selindra and her daughter. Her mother erred, yes, but she did not deserve death. If you, like your mother, are determined to dwell stubbornly in misery, it is no wonder that nightmares continue to plague you.”

He spat the word “nightmares” as if it burned his tongue. The disgust, the fatigue, the impatience flashing across his features—all of it was unmistakable. The man who had once sworn to shield me from the darkness, who had soothed me in the dead of night when nightmares clawed at my mind, now seemed wearied by the burden of my pain.

Everything I had endured, every scar carved into my body and spirit, had become a weapon in his hands, wielded to wound me once again. The man who once knelt beside my bed, promising that no darkness or monster could harm me while he lived, had now become the force pushing me back into the abyss. All of this, he claimed, was deserved… for Selindra’s sake.

My legs gave way beneath me, and I staggered backward, trembling so violently I could no longer grip the hall for support. Kyle caught me just in time, but the moment he saw my knee, swollen and bruised, concern overtook his impatience. He crouched immediately, inspecting the injury with precision born of both instinct and care.

“How did you wound your knee so grievously?” he asked, his voice mingling worry with the impatience I knew so well.

“Forget it,” I muttered through gritted teeth. “If you refuse to apologize, I will do it for you. But in the future, you must not be so disrespectful.” I wrenched my hand free, strength flaring despite the pain, and gestured sharply toward the door, my face pale and hard as stone.

“Leave! All of you, leave this place!” I commanded.

Kyle, sensing my vulnerability, reached out once more, attempting to soothe me with the memory of the gentle embrace that had once calmed my soul. But Selindra, tears tracing her carefully painted path, bowed low.

“Sandra, I shall go now. Please, do not torment yourself further over this,” she said, her voice quivering with practiced remorse.

As she turned, her movements were too swift, too careless. She collided with the doorframe, falling sideways in a tangle of limbs. Kyle released me instantly, his instincts surging as he lunged to catch her. They tumbled together into the corridor, and though his arms cradled her with protective force, her temple struck the frame, crimson blooming across her skin almost immediately.

“Does it pain you?” he demanded, cradling her as he pressed forward, voice threaded with urgency. “We must see the healer at once!”

Finally, the doorway fell silent. My heart, already battered from ten years of love and trust, sank to the depths of despair. After a decade of knowing each other, of intertwining our souls through moonstone and mindlink, we had arrived at this place of estrangement.

I drew forth a travel permit, a rare token for such swift passage, and secured a journey for the day of the ceremony. Seven days remained—just enough to sever the lingering threads of the past.

Kyle had been correct; one must look forward, or risk being consumed by what had come before. From this day, I vowed to cut all ties to both the joy and the agony that had shaped my life, leaving nothing but the cold clarity of the path ahead.