From Rejected Mate to Luna Chapter 155

Julia's POV

The evening breeze drifted through the open window, carrying the scent of pine and the gentle howls of distant wolves celebrating the waning moon. I sat cross-legged on the living room floor, surrounded by medical charts and patient logs, a fortress of paperwork that had become my refuge over the past three weeks.

My fingertips traced the data points on the latest report. "Third consecutive day with no new cases," I murmured, making a notation at the bottom of the page. The pen scratched against paper with clinical precision, matching the professional detachment I'd perfected.

Anyone watching would see a dedicated nurse, methodically processing the aftermath of a crisis. They wouldn't see the hollow space behind my ribs where something vital used to live.

Kaia, my wolf, had been unnaturally quiet these past weeks. No growls, no opinions, just an occasional whimper that I ruthlessly suppressed. Work was the perfect anesthetic. If I kept moving, kept helping, kept saving lives, I wouldn't have to acknowledge the name I refused to think about.

The hardwood floor creaked, announcing my mother's arrival before she spoke.

Mom had been making these impromptu visits ever since I'd moved into this small apartment three weeks ago. After too many late nights analyzing data and reorganizing medical protocols, I'd decided the constant shuffling in and out of my childhood bedroom was disturbing my parents' sleep. Dad had protested, of course, insisting I didn't need to leave, but I'd seen the dark circles under his eyes and knew better. This one-bedroom place near the medical center was practical, I'd told them. Close to work, quiet, perfect for the irregular hours I was keeping.

Mom had gotten into the habit of dropping by unannounced, always with some excuse—bringing leftovers, checking if I needed groceries, claiming she was "just in the neighborhood." We both knew the truth: she was worried about me living alone, working myself to exhaustion, barely eating. The spare key I'd given her had seen more use in three weeks than I'd expected it would in three months.

"Julia, honey, you've been at those reports all day." Mom stood in the doorway, two steaming mugs clutched in her hands. The scent of chamomile wafted across the room.

I didn't look up. "Epidemic data doesn't analyze itself."

She sighed and padded across the room in her slippers, setting a mug on the coffee table beside me. "You know, now that the outbreak is under control, you could return to Spring Valley." Her voice softened as she added, "Matthew must miss you terribly."

My fingers tightened around the pen until my knuckles whitened. Just hearing his name sent a jolt of pain through my chest.

"Really?" My voice came out sharp enough to cut glass. "Funny how he forgot to mention that to me."

Mom shifted uncomfortably. "I thought you two were—"

"Were what?" I interrupted, looking up with a bitter smile that felt like a grimace. "Thought I'd be desperate to run back to someone who vanished when I needed him most?" I laughed, the sound hollow and wrong. "Don't worry, Mom. I don't need to be 'sent away.' My work here isn't finished."

Instead of retreating, Mom set down her own mug and lowered herself onto the couch directly behind me. I could feel her eyes on the back of my neck.

"Julia," she said softly but firmly, "what happened? You haven't truly smiled in three weeks. You might fool everyone else with this professional act, but you can't fool your mother."

I wanted to maintain the wall I'd built, the perfect barrier of indifference. But in that moment, Kaia broke her silence with a mournful whine that reverberated through my entire being. The sound was so full of longing and grief that it nearly stole my breath.

"I..." My voice wavered, the first crack in my facade. "I don't want to talk about it."

Mom slid from the couch to the floor beside me, her hand covering mine. Her palm was warm against my cold fingers. "Sweetheart, keeping it inside only makes the pain dig deeper."

Kaia whined again, louder this time. The pressure behind my eyes built until my vision blurred.

"He left." The words fell from my lips like stones. "After the emergency meeting, after I declined the Alpha position and nominated Eric. He didn't even say goodbye."

Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I angrily wiped them away with the back of my hand. "He left a letter. A goddamn letter!" My voice broke. "Saying he needed to handle border issues in Spring Valley, that we shouldn't let pack politics come between us... He even praised my leadership skills!"

I gave a harsh laugh that dissolved into a sob. "The most ironic part? He said he was leaving so he wouldn't 'put me in a difficult position.' As if I needed him to make decisions for me!"

With shaking hands, I pulled the crumpled letter from my pocket and thrust it at Mom. The paper was worn thin at the folds, evidence of how many times I'd read it, searching for something more between the lines.

"Three weeks, Mom. No calls, no texts."

Mom read the letter silently, her expression softening. When she finished, she set it aside and pulled me into her arms. "Oh, honey."

"I thought he was different," I whispered against her shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of home that had always meant safety. "I thought he actually... I thought he would stay, or at least face me. But he's just like everyone else, making decisions and walking away from me."

Mom stroked my hair, her touch gentle as she held me through the storm of emotions. "I'm sure there's just been a misunderstanding, Julia. From this letter, it seems he truly believed he was doing the right thing."

I pulled back, wiping my eyes and straightening my shoulders. "Misunderstanding? No, Mom. Misunderstandings can be explained. He chose to leave, chose not to communicate, chose to decide everything alone."

Rising to my feet, I walked to the window. Outside, moonlight painted the forest in silver and shadow. "I won't chase after him. My pride won't let me be the one begging for explanations." My voice had steadied, hardened. "If he thought a letter was enough, then he never really knew me at all."

"But if he truly cares for you—" Mom began.

"Then he should have stayed," I cut her off, turning to face her. "Or at least had the courage to tell me to my face. He stood beside me at that meeting, and then disappeared when I needed him most." My chin lifted defiantly. "I won't be the first to bend, Mom. Not again."

Mom sighed and rose, crossing to stand beside me at the window. She placed her hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "I understand, sweetheart. I won't push you to do anything you're not ready for." She hesitated. "Though I have heard that Spring Valley's border troubles have been serious lately. Perhaps his duties truly did require his presence."

I didn't answer, letting her pull me into another embrace. In the safety of her arms, I finally allowed myself to fully break down, silent tears streaming down my face. Kaia howled mournfully in my mind, calling for her absent mate. But my resolve remained firm: I would not be the one to reach out.

If Matthew Collins thought a letter could resolve everything, then he would have to live with the consequences of his choice.