Chapter 22: Anastasia

Sitting on the grass, the memories of Adrian’s indifference come rushing back, cold and sharp. From the very beginning, Luna was nothing more than an inconvenience to him. I remember her third birthday clearly. I had spent two weeks disinfecting the living room, hanging pale yellow balloons, and baking a small, sugar-free cake that wouldn't upset her dietary restrictions. Adrian had promised he would be home by six o'clock to watch her blow out her candles.

Luna sat in her high chair until midnight, her little eyes heavy with sleep, refusing to close them because she was waiting for the door to open. When Adrian finally called...