Where the Moon No Longer Shines

The engagement day loomed closer, yet Cassandra felt like a ghost haunting her own life. Every step she took was weighed down by the growing arsenal of evidence against Matthew. She would endure this betrayal for now, but when the time came, she would strike with precision.

It wasn’t long before Julia found another chance to flaunt her dominance. At the engagement venue, she sauntered in, dressed to turn heads, her every move a deliberate challenge to Cassandra.

“You look lovely today,” Julia sneered. “Though I must say, age doesn’t flatter everyone.”

Cassandra’s smile didn’t waver. “And you’re as bold as ever, Ms. Julia. I do hope you’re enjoying your youth—it fades so quickly.”

The tension was palpable, a storm brewing between them. But Cassandra didn’t care. She had already decided. Soon, neither Julia nor Matthew would have any power over her.

As she watched Julia prance about with her usual arrogance, Cassandra thought of Mavel Street and the explosion waiting to erase her from this nightmare. A bitter smile tugged at her lips.

Just a little longer.

Perhaps Matthew had been bound to Julia long before Cassandra even stepped into his life. Time seemed to freeze as this realization hit her, a crushing weight settling over her heart. It wasn’t pain—no, it was something heavier, something suffocating. If Matthew and Julia had known each other for so long, then what were these seven years between her and him?

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Seven years... a cruel joke.

On the second-to-last day before the engagement, Matthew took Cassandra to The Lawrence Family residence for an evening of opera with his parents. The melodious singing filled the room, but Cassandra struggled to stay awake. The heavy atmosphere only amplified her restlessness, so she stepped outside to clear her head.

As she checked her phone, her eyes froze on a post from Julia, uploaded just a minute ago: “Boyfriend is so annoying today, insisting on taking me to meet his parents.”

The location? Near The Lawrence Family mansion.

Her fingers went numb as her mind spun. Her breathing quickened as her phone buzzed again. Another notification—this time, a private message from Julia.

“Guess where I am.”

Attached was a photo. The angle was unmistakable; it was taken inside the opera house, from under the same red silk-covered table Cassandra and Matthew were sitting at earlier.

Cassandra’s heart pounded as panic set in. A moment later, she felt a strange sensation—a hand brushing against her leg beneath the table. Her breath hitched as she froze in disbelief. It wasn’t Matthew. Her wide eyes darted to him, only to see his face darkened with anger. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, repeatedly trying to push away the hand that persisted. Julia, bold and unashamed, was under the table.

Cassandra’s body trembled with fury. She slammed the table, her voice breaking the tension in the room.

“Housekeeper! There seems to be a rat under the table!”

Gasps rippled through the audience. The housekeeper approached hesitantly, but before he could lift the tablecloth, an authoritative voice rang out.

“I’ll handle it,” said Aunt Lawrence, stepping forward. Her calm, commanding demeanor silenced everyone.

Aunt Lawrence bent down, her gaze piercing as she lifted the tablecloth. Seconds felt like hours. Her expression shifted subtly, but she quickly straightened, brushing off the incident.

“There’s no rat. Just a few pesky mosquitoes. Nothing to worry about,” she said with feigned composure.

Before Cassandra could protest, Aunt Lawrence pulled her aside, murmuring about leaving early. Cassandra’s confusion deepened as the event unfolded. What game was Aunt Lawrence playing? And why was everyone, even the servants, complicit in covering up Julia’s outrageous behavior?

Later that night, Cassandra stood alone in her room, staring blankly at her phone. A new message appeared from Julia:

“He says I’m not worthy of stepping into The Lawrence Family home. Funny, isn’t it? Because tonight, I showed him exactly what he needs the most: me. Not you.”

Her chest tightened, her grip on the phone unsteady. For the first time, she realized the depth of her isolation. Everyone around her—the servants, Aunt Lawrence, even Matthew—had known. They had all been in on this cruel game, leaving her to play the fool.