Chapter 20: Unspoken Tensions

The elevator doors slid shut with a quiet hum, sealing Luna and Killian in a suffocating silence. The air between them was thick, charged with unsaid words and lingering ghosts of the past.

Luna stared straight ahead, refusing to glance at the man standing beside her. Killian, ever composed, kept his gaze forward, his expression unreadable. The soft hum of the elevator was the only sound between them, a stark contrast to the storm raging in her mind.

She should say something. Anything.

But every word that formed in her head felt too bitter, too laced with emotions she wasn't ready to acknowledge.

Killian exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching at his side as if he was about to speak, but the words never came.

Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity until the elevator gave a soft chime, signaling their arrival at the top floor. The tension didn't break, but it shifted slightly as the doors parted, revealing the dimly lit corridor leading to Killian's office.

Luna stepped out first, needing the space. The weight of Killian's presence behind her was almost unbearable, pressing against her like an unseen force. She kept her posture straight, determined not to let him see just how much this moment affected her.

The walls of Blackwell Industries' executive floor were lined with sleek, modern decor—muted gray tones, accented with glass and steel. It screamed wealth and control, much like the man walking silently beside her.

When they reached Killian's office, he pushed the door open and gestured for her to step inside.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before moving past him, her senses hyper-aware of his closeness.

The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in yet another bubble of unbearable tension.

Luna took a deep breath and turned to face him, finally forcing herself to meet his gaze. The coldness in his blue eyes wasn't as sharp as before, but it was still there, guarded and restrained.

Killian leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed. "So," he started, voice low, "are you done making things difficult for yourself?"

Luna's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

His lips twitched, but it wasn't quite a smile. "You're stubborn, Luna. I'll give you that. But you don't have to fight me at every turn."

She scoffed. "Fight you? That's rich, coming from the man who walked away without a word years ago."

The muscle in his jaw ticked, but he didn't immediately respond.

Luna clenched her fists at her sides, the words she had swallowed back earlier fighting to break free. It would be so easy to throw everything at him—to tell him just how much he had shattered her when he left. But something held her back.

Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was fear.

Before either of them could break the standoff, a soft chime interrupted the heavy silence.

Killian frowned, glancing down at his phone. The name flashing on the screen made something in his face shift, just slightly.

His mother.

Luna caught the subtle flicker of hesitation before he answered the call.

"Mother," he said, his tone noticeably softer.

Luna blinked. She had almost forgotten how different Killian was with his parents. While the world saw him as an unyielding force, there was a quiet warmth when he spoke to his mother.

"Killian, dear, how are you?" his mother's voice rang through the speaker, elegant yet affectionate. "I was just thinking about you."

"I'm fine, Mother," Killian replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, don't lie to me," she chided gently. "I can tell when something's bothering you. Is it work? Or…" There was a pause before she continued. "Is Luna there with you?"

Luna's heart stopped for a moment.

Killian's gaze flickered to her, unreadable. "Yes, she's here."

There was a sharp inhale on the other end. "Oh, Luna, sweetheart! It's been so long."

Luna swallowed, caught off guard by the warmth in his mother's voice. "Mrs. Blackwell," she said carefully.

"Oh, none of that! You used to call me Auntie Margaret. It should be 'Mother' by now" his mother scolded playfully. "And honestly, I've missed you terribly."

Luna wasn't sure how to respond to that. She had expected contempt, suspicion—anything but genuine fondness.

"You must come by soon," Margaret continued. "Your father and I would love to see you."

Luna opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Did they still see her as part of their family, despite everything that had happened?

Killian cleared his throat, cutting through the moment. "Mother, we're in the middle of something."

Margaret sighed dramatically. "Yes, yes, always busy. But don't think I won't call again. And Luna, dear, I'll expect you to visit."

The call ended, leaving a strange silence in its wake.

Luna looked away, suddenly feeling unsteady. She hadn't thought about his family in a long time, hadn't expected them to still welcome her so openly.

Killian's voice pulled her back. "They never stopped caring about you."

She forced a small, humorless smile. "That makes one of us, then."

His expression darkened. "You think I never cared?"

"Did you?" she shot back. "Because from where I stood, you left without looking back."

Killian exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. "Luna…"

"No," she interrupted, shaking her head. "You don't get to act like I was the one who ran away. I fought for us. You didn't."

The silence between them felt like a gaping chasm now.

For the first time since their contract marriage began, the past bled into the present, raw and unfiltered.

Killian took a step toward her, his eyes holding something she couldn't quite decipher. Regret? Guilt? Something else entirely?

Luna refused to let herself be swayed by it.

She squared her shoulders, determined. "You said I was making things difficult for myself, but the truth is, Killian, I stopped expecting anything from you a long time ago."

He didn't say anything, but she caught the subtle clench of his jaw, the tension in his stance.

For a brief moment, she thought he might say something—might explain, might fight for whatever this was between them.

But he didn't.

Instead, he turned away, reaching for a glass of whiskey and returned to the documents on his desk.

Luna exhaled, steadying herself. She had gotten her answer, even if he never spoke a word.

And somehow, that hurt more than anything he could have said.