Chapter 26: Catching Up

The Blackwell Manor's sunroom was bathed in the warm, golden light of the late afternoon, casting long, soft shadows over the elegant tea set laid out on the round marble table, creating a tranquil and inviting atmosphere. The delicate fragrance of freshly brewed chamomile and vanilla tea drifted in the air, a soothing aroma that mingled with the scent of blooming flowers in the nearby garden, as Margaret Blackwell, with her ever-graceful poise and impeccable manners, poured tea into Luna's delicate porcelain cup. Across from her, Luna sat with her hands neatly folded in her lap, maintaining a polite smile, though a nervous tension curled inside her, a feeling of unease that she couldn't quite shake.

Margaret sighed softly as she placed the porcelain teapot back onto its silver tray, her movements refined and elegant. "It's been far too long, my dear," she said, her voice warm and filled with a gentle nostalgia, her gaze holding Luna's. 

"You should have never been a stranger to this house, Luna. You always belonged here, and it pains me to think you felt otherwise."

Luna's fingers tightened slightly around the teacup's delicate handle, her knuckles whitening slightly, the warmth of the tea doing little to ease the chill she felt. 

"I—" she hesitated, choosing her words carefully, trying to navigate the delicate emotions of the conversation. 

"I didn't think I was still welcome, Mrs., I mean Mother, not after… everything that happened, not after the way I left, not after the pain I caused," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper.

Margaret's lips pressed together, her expression softening, her blue eyes, usually bright and cheerful, filled with something akin to regret, a deep sadness that mirrored Luna's own. "Oh, Luna. I would never have turned you away, my dear, never. You were always welcome in this house, in my heart," she said, her voice filled with sincerity. 

She glanced down at her teacup, swirling the amber liquid inside, her gaze distant, lost in memories. "When Killian left, when he disappeared from our lives, I never had the chance to tell you how truly sorry I was, how much it grieved me. I wanted to reach out, to contact you, to find out how you were doing, to offer my support, but… I thought you might not want to hear from me, that my presence would only cause you more pain, that you would want to forget everything about this family," she explained, her voice laced with a hint of guilt.

Luna swallowed the lump forming in her throat, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She hadn't expected this conversation, not here, not now, not with Margaret. She had braced herself for cold indifference, for a polite but distant reception, a formal acknowledgment, yet Margaret's warmth, her genuine affection, unsettled her more than rejection ever could, it challenged her assumptions and stirred up a confusing mix of emotions.

"I understood, Mother," Luna murmured, offering a small, hesitant smile, her voice trembling slightly. "It wasn't your fault, it was never your fault."

Margaret's brows knitted together, her refined composure slipping just slightly, revealing a hint of the vulnerability beneath. "But it was his, wasn't it? My son," she said, shaking her head slowly, a gesture of exasperation, "for all his intelligence, his ambition, his success, and his stubbornness, can be an absolute fool, especially when it comes to matters of the heart," she confessed, her voice laced with a hint of fond exasperation.

Luna chuckled softly at that, a small, genuine laugh escaping her lips, a moment of lightness in the otherwise heavy atmosphere, and Margaret took the opportunity to reach across the table, her hand warm and comforting, squeezing Luna's hand lightly, offering a gesture of reassurance. "I only wish things had been different, my dear. That we could have had a proper wedding, a joyous celebration of you officially joining our family, a day filled with happiness and love," she said, her gaze filled with a longing for what could have been.

At this, Luna's smile faltered, the warmth fading from her eyes. A proper wedding. A real one. Not the cold, businesslike agreement, the strategic alliance, that had brought her back into Killian's life, a contract devoid of love and emotion. Guilt tugged at her, a sharp pang in her chest, but she forced herself to keep her expression calm, to maintain her composure, to avoid revealing the complexities of her current situation.

Margaret sighed dramatically. "Do you know how much I had planned for your wedding back then?" She gestured vaguely toward the garden beyond the glass walls of the sunroom. "I envisioned it here, in the manor. White roses, gold-trimmed invitations, a grand celebration." She shook her head with an exasperated but fond expression. "But my son ruined it all."

Luna chuckled again, though it was tinged with something bittersweet. "I'm sure he had his reasons."

Margaret scoffed. "Reasons? He left behind the best thing that ever happened to him."

Luna's heart clenched, but she merely took a slow sip of her tea, letting the warmth soothe her. "That's all in the past now."

Margaret studied her for a moment before sighing. "Perhaps. But tell me, Luna," she said gently, "are you truly happy?"

Luna hesitated. The truth hovered at the tip of her tongue, but she knew she couldn't let it slip. So she smiled, a careful, practiced smile. "I'm fine, Mother."

Margaret didn't look entirely convinced, but she didn't press further. Instead, she reached for the sugar bowl and began stirring a spoonful into her tea, as if contemplating something.

"Regardless," she said at last, her voice softer, "I'm glad you're back."

Luna nodded, unsure of what to say. Because deep down, she wasn't sure if she was back in the way Margaret thought she was. And she wasn't sure if she ever could be.

As they sipped their tea in the warmth of the sunroom, the unspoken truths hung in the air between them, weaving into the golden afternoon light like fragile threads waiting to unravel.