The Morning After

The coffee smelled bitter this morning, the rich aroma that usually comforted me now scratching at the back of my throat like ground glass. Victor stood at the counter, his broad shoulders tense beneath the thin cotton of his t-shirt, fingers wrapped around his mug like he was afraid it might try to escape. I watched the steam curl upward, tracing the shape of his jawline in the air between us.

"Morning," he said, and the word landed too carefully on the kitchen tiles, each syllable measured and placed with surgical precision.

My own voice came out smaller than I intended. "Morning... umm."

The mug hit the counter with a sharp crack that made us both flinch. Coffee sloshed over the rim, painting dark patterns across the pale granite. Victor's eyes met mine for a fraction of a second too long—that same lingering gaze that had started all this trouble last night.

"Look, about last night—" His voice wavered, that smooth baritone catching on something rough in his throat. He cleared it, the sound unnaturally loud in the tense kitchen. "We should... talk."

The front door clicked open before he could finish, the sound slicing through whatever he'd been about to say. High heels tapped confidently across the hardwood, followed by a voice that sounded like wind chimes and broken glass.

"Honey, I missed you!"

She moved like she owned the air around her, this beautiful stranger with honey-colored hair and a smile that could probably stop traffic. Before I could process anything beyond the sudden invasion of our morning, she was kissing Victor—right there in our kitchen, her hands framing his face like she had every right to touch what I'd only ever watched from a careful distance.

Victor's entire body went rigid. The coffee cup slipped from his suddenly trembling fingers, shattering against the floor in a explosion of ceramic and dark liquid. "L-Lena," he stammered, his face blanching white as he glanced between me and this woman—Lena. "This isn't—" His voice cracked on the unfinished sentence.

Lena either didn't notice or didn't care about his panic. "Honey, I missed you," she said again, leaning in for another kiss.

His hands came up to gently push her back, but the movement looked more like a reflex than a rejection. "Lena, not now—" The words strained through clenched teeth, barely controlled. "We'll talk later."

My own hands had started shaking, a fine tremor working its way up from my fingertips until my whole body vibrated with it. The ringtone from my phone sliced through the tension—Lara's specific chime that usually made me smile. Now it felt like a lifeline thrown into choppy waters.

Victor's gaze snapped to me, something desperate and guilty swimming in those usually calm eyes. "Kitten, wait—" He took a step toward me, but Lena's hand on his arm stopped him mid-motion. The endearment he'd used since I was eight years old now felt like a brand. "Damn it..." he muttered under his breath, the words meant for himself but carrying clearly across the ruined kitchen.

I ended the call without speaking to Lara, my thumb shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone. The smile I forced onto my lips felt brittle and foreign. "Are you my uncle's girlfriend?"

Victor flinched like I'd physically struck him. Lena's grip tightened on his arm, possessive and sure.

"Yes, actually," she said smoothly, her voice dripping with condescending sweetness. "We've been—"

"Stop." Victor's voice went raw, stripped bare. "Just... stop."

The tears threatened then, hot and insistent behind my eyes. I fought them back, clenching my jaw until my teeth ached. The smile I managed felt like it might crack my face in two. "Oooo really, you both look good together." The words tasted like ash. "By the way, he is my uncle. I'm Luna. Nice to meet you, aunty." The honorific dropped like a stone between us. "I'm heading to my university then. Bye uncle, aunty."

I turned before either of them could respond, before I could see the devastation on Victor's face or the confusion on Lena's. My backpack felt heavier than usual as I slung it over my shoulder, the weight of last night's confession and this morning's revelation pressing down on me.

"Luna—" Victor's voice broke on my name, the sound tearing out of him ragged and desperate.

But I was already out the door, the screen slamming shut behind me with finality I didn't feel.

I ran.

The morning air burned in my lungs, each breath scraping against the tightness in my chest. My shoes slapped against the pavement in a rhythm that matched the frantic beat of my heart. The bus stop came into view just as the vehicle itself rounded the corner, its diesel groan sounding like salvation.

The doors hissed open and I stumbled aboard, dropping into the first available seat just as Victor reached the curb. His hand slammed against the metal exterior with a sound that echoed through the bus's interior.

"Luna!" His shout carried through the closing doors, raw and desperate.

But the bus was already pulling away, leaving him standing there with Lena watching from our porch, her expression shifting from confusion to dawning understanding. I didn't look back, focusing instead on the pattern of scratches on the seat in front of me, each line and groove a distraction from the hollow ache spreading through my chest.

I forced another smile, practicing the expression in the reflection of the bus window. The girl looking back at me had too-bright eyes and a mouth that didn't quite remember how to curve upward naturally. Don't cry, I told myself, digging my nails into my palms until crescent marks bloomed on my skin. You knew this would eventually happen.

The university campus swarmed with students when I stepped off the bus, the familiar chaos a welcome distraction. I kept my head down, weaving through groups of chatting classmates until a familiar voice cut through the murmur.

"Luna!"

Lara appeared at my side, her dark eyes immediately narrowing as she took in my forced smile. "Hey, what's wrong?" she murmured, not waiting for an answer before pulling me into a tight hug. Her familiar scent—vanilla and something uniquely Lara—should have been comforting. Instead, it made my throat tighten. "You're scaring me," she said, her voice soft against my hair as she felt me tremble against her.

I pulled back, the movement too quick, too jerky. Forcing another smile that felt like a grimace, I took her hand. "Nothing. Let's go, we'll be late."

She hesitated, searching my face with that scary perceptiveness she always had. "Okay..." she finally said, letting me lead her toward our classroom but keeping close, her thumb rubbing comforting circles on my knuckles. "But we're talking later," she added firmly, and I knew it wasn't a request.

The lecture passed in a blur of meaningless words and shifting shadows. I kept my eyes fixed on the professor, not really seeing him, not really hearing anything beyond the echo of Victor's broken voice saying my name.

After class, the hallway packed with bodies pushing toward freedom. That's when I felt their eyes on me—the group of guys who always lounged near the water fountain, their gazes lingering too long, their comments just loud enough to carry.

Lara's grip on my hand tightened protectively as she shot them a glare that could peel paint. "Ignore those losers," she muttered, pulling me closer against her side. "But if they try anything, I'll make sure they regret it." Her voice dropped to a low, protective fury that usually made me feel safe.

Today, it just made me feel tired.

The crowd jostled us forward, bodies pressing close in the narrow hallway. That's when I felt it—a hand brushing against my backside, then sliding around to grope my breast with shocking boldness.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The world narrowed to that invasive touch, the heat of shame flooding my face.

Lara whirled around before I could even process what had happened. She shoved the guy back with surprising force, her entire body coiled with rage as she stepped between us. "Touch her again and I'll break your fucking fingers!" she snarled, the venom in her voice clearing a small circle around us in the suddenly silent hallway.

Her eyes found mine, the fury in them softening into concern. "Luna, you okay?"

I was trembling, the fine shakes from this morning returning full force. Forcing that familiar, brittle smile, I whispered the lie that was becoming my new normal. "I'm fine. Don't worry."

Lara's hand found mine again, her grip firm and steadying. "Like hell you are," she said softly, her thumb tracing circles on my wrist. "But we'll fix that."

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***