Part 15

Gibran came home earlier than usual. Thania, who was tending to the plants in the front yard, was surprised when she saw his car pulling into the driveway. The sound of the engine stopped, and Gibran's footsteps could be heard as he exited the car. She paused her task, wiping the droplets from her hands and looking at him. Why was he home so soon?

She could sense something was off, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She hesitated for a moment before walking towards the door, following Gibran inside. As she entered, she called out his name.

"Gibran," she said softly, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Gibran didn't answer her. He continued walking down the hallway and straight to his room, as if lost in his thoughts. Thania, though confused, decided to follow him. He didn't close the door behind him, a small but significant detail that caught her attention. It was unlike him. He usually always shut the door with finality, but today was different.

Inside his room, Gibran opened his closet and began pulling out clothes, hastily tossing them into his suitcase. Thania furrowed her brow, standing in the doorway, unsure of what was happening. Is he leaving? The thought crossed her mind. It seemed so sudden.

Without looking up, Gibran spoke as though he had sensed her questioning gaze. "Papa asked me to go out of town for a week. There are some things I need to take care of," he said, his voice flat, almost detached.

Thania processed the information slowly. She was surprised, but she nodded in understanding. "Oh, well, if you need any help, I can—"

"I don't need help," Gibran interjected, his tone sharper than before. "Please, Thania, just let me handle it."

She didn't want to argue with him, so she reluctantly took a step back. She wasn't upset, but she couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. After a brief moment of silence, she sighed and left his room to give him space. But she didn't leave. She stood outside the door, listening to the faint sound of clothes being folded and the shuffle of feet inside.

Time passed, and finally, Gibran emerged from his room, carrying a large suitcase. Thania immediately approached him, her concern resurfacing.

"Gibran, let me help you with that," she offered, her voice gentle.

Gibran shook his head firmly. "I said no. It's heavy; I can manage."

She looked at him, still unsure, but didn't insist. She followed him as he walked down the stairs, their steps echoing in the large, empty house. Once they reached the front yard, Gibran stopped abruptly, causing Thania to halt as well.

"Are you driving yourself, Gibran?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion.

"No, I'm taking a taxi," he replied, his words clipped.

Thania nodded, now understanding. A taxi pulled up at the curb, and Gibran moved without hesitation. He opened the trunk of the taxi and placed his suitcase inside. Then, he turned to open the car door, but before getting in, he looked back at Thania.

"Lock the door after I leave, and don't let anyone in," he said, his tone still serious, as if he needed to ensure everything was taken care of before he left.

Thania nodded, her lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. "Got it, Gibran. Take care."

With a brief nod, he got into the car, and the taxi slowly drove away. Thania watched the vehicle until it disappeared from sight, the house once again falling silent.

Thania's POV:

Tonight feels different. This is the first night I'm truly alone in this house without Gibran. Though I've grown accustomed to the silence, I've always known that Gibran was only a room away, or maybe out of town for work, but it was never this... permanent. Or perhaps it just feels that way now because I realize how much I've become dependent on his presence, even if he doesn't see me as someone he truly cares about.

I've always been alone here, in this house. It's large, far too large for just one person, and yet here I am—alone. Gibran and I live in this enormous place, and it feels hollow. There are echoes in every corner, and the rooms seem to stretch on forever. It's not even the kind of house I would choose for myself. I would have preferred something much smaller, much cozier. A place that feels warm, like home.

But I can't change that. This is Gibran's house. It has always been meant for someone like him—someone from a family that comes from wealth and status. It was built for a person who could afford a mansion like this. And I, well, I'm just here by circumstance. Because I'm married to Gibran.

I sometimes wonder if I would have been happier if we had a child. Perhaps a baby would fill the void here, give me a sense of purpose. I could care for my child, tend to their needs, make a life for them here. But would that ever happen? Gibran and I haven't even spoken about having children. It seems like such a distant thought, and honestly, it feels more impossible by the day. Our marriage... it was never built on love. It was built out of practicality, out of obligation.

What are you thinking, Thania? Stop fantasizing about a life that will never be.

I remind myself to stay grounded. My role is simple. I need to be a good wife to Gibran, to support him, even if he doesn't feel the same about me. Maybe someday, he'll find his real love—the one he's meant to be with. And I'll still be here, waiting for him to find that person, always playing the part of the dutiful wife.

The hours passed slowly, and I assumed Gibran must have reached his destination by now. But, as always, I couldn't reach him. His phone had been blocked ever since... well, ever since things had become strained between us. I didn't want to dwell on that. I just hoped he was okay.

I lay on my bed, my mind unable to settle. I couldn't sleep, not tonight. Something about this night felt different, and my thoughts were scattered. I tossed and turned for a while before finally deciding to turn to my diary. Perhaps writing would calm my mind.

Dear Diary,

Tonight, I am left alone. The moon has gone far away, and I'm here, staring at the empty sky.

The moon is out of reach, but that's okay.

Even though we're apart, I still send my love to the moon, wherever it is.

To the sky, I send my message—please, protect my moon.

We may be far apart, but we both look at the same sky.

To the stars, I ask that you always stay close to my moon. Don't let it feel alone, even in the dark.

I can't always be near, but the stars will be there, faithful and true.

To the universe, I offer my gratitude. Thank you for making space for my moon, for giving it room to shine.

~Good night, my moon.

I closed my diary with a deep breath, feeling a small weight lift from my chest. I could feel my heart calming, my thoughts settling. Finally, I closed my eyes, hoping for a peaceful sleep, and in my dreams, I would meet the moon once again.