Their father slouched against the cracked wall, the bottle of whiskey half-empty now, his eyes glassy and mean.
"Are you going like this?" he barked.
Luna instinctively stepped in front of her brother, her shoulders tightening.
"Go back inside and change," he growled. "You think you can walk around showing off your arms like some street girl?"
Luna didn't argue. Not here. Not with Louis watching. She simply inhaled—deep, sharp—and turned on her heel.
Inside, she peeled off the fitted sleeveless dress and pulled on another. This one had long sleeves and a looser skirt, more modest by his standards, but still beautiful in its own quiet way. The fabric hugged her at the waist, the hem flowing like ripples in a stream. She looked at herself in the cracked mirror.
She still looked like a goddess.
She wouldn't let him take that from her.
Outside, her father muttered something under his breath and waved a hand.
"Now you can go. Your mother and I will join shortly."
Luna didn't reply. She took Louis' hand again and walked through the gate. The road ahead was lined with music, laughter, and the promise of celebration.
But behind them, a house stood like a cage.
And in her chest, something burned.
A promise.
She would not live and die in silence. Not here.
The wedding ground sparkled with life.
Strings of golden lights crisscrossed above like stars caught in nets, swaying gently with the breeze. Laughter floated through the warm evening air, mingling with the rhythm of highlife music and the sweet scent of roasted meat and fresh flowers. People danced, drank, and celebrated beneath the open sky, wrapped in vibrant fabrics and wide, beaming smiles.
Luna and Louis stepped into the crowd, their feet crunching softly over the sanded earth.
Everything was alive here—colorful, loud, full of love. For a moment, it felt like the world was kinder than the one they'd left behind just minutes ago.
"I'm going to the bride," Luna said, her voice bright as she turned to her younger brother. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
He recoiled instantly, scrubbing the spot with the back of his hand. "Ugh, Luna," he grumbled. "Why do you always do that?"
She laughed, soft and knowing. "Because I love you, Louis. Now behave yourself."
"I always behave," he said, puffing out his chest. "I'm not a baby, you know. I'm already thirteen. Practically a man."
"Mm-hmm. Of course you are," she teased, brushing imaginary lint off his shoulder.
"Alright, go already. I'll find my friends," he muttered, eager to be free of her doting for the evening.
Luna watched him disappear into the sea of guests, already calling out to a group of boys near the music tent. Her heart tugged a little—he was growing fast, quicker than she'd like. He was too young to be carrying the weight he did. Too young to understand how many sacrifices were made to keep their lives stitched together.
She turned toward the small decorated hut where the bride waited. Mina would be glowing. It still felt surreal, the idea of her best friend wearing the title of "wife." But Luna couldn't wait to see her hug her, laugh, and soak in the joy of a moment that belonged to love, not pain.
For tonight, at least, they could pretend the world was gentle.
The hem of Luna's dress brushed softly against her ankles as she stepped through the crowd, nodding to neighbors and aunts and cousins who smiled at her as she passed. Her beauty didn't scream—it whispered, quietly captivating in the way light slips through tree leaves.
She was halfway to the bride's chamber when something—something made her stop.
Across the courtyard, standing near the drink station in a dark tailored shirt and clean slacks, was Lucas. The fading light caught the edge of his jawline, the neatness of his posture, and something unreadable in his expression as he scanned the gathering.
He looked like he belonged—and didn't—all at once.
Luna's breath caught.
She hadn't expected to see him here yet.
Luna quickly turned her gaze away before he could see her.
Lucas Montenegro Aguas.
The name alone carried weight. The only heir to the Montenegro family, CEO of the Aguas Company, and the quiet ruler of Asosura's fate. His family owned nearly all the land in town, and their sprawling vineyards fed not only the land but the livelihoods of the people who worked them—people like Luna and her family.
Everyone in Asosura knew Lucas.
Even Luna, who rarely paid men more than a passing glance, couldn't deny the effect he had. Maybe it was the way he carried himself—calm, watchful, with eyes that looked like they had seen the world and still chose silence. Or maybe it was because he didn't walk like he owned the place, even though technically… he did.
She tried to shake the thought away, only to be pulled back to earth by a familiar giggle.
"There you are!" Mina squealed, pulling Luna into a tight embrace. "What took you so long? Don't tell me you were lost in your own world again!"
Luna laughed into her shoulder, the weight of the day melting off her. "Guilty as charged."
"Let me look at you," Mina said, stepping back. "Wow. You look amazing."
"You look like a queen," Luna replied with a wide smile. "Do you think Prince will survive seeing you in that dress?"
Mina beamed. "Girl, that boy would be smitten even if I wore a sack. I'm the air he breathes."
Luna laughed. "Truer words have never been spoken."