Chapter 1

In the middle of the night, I woke up to make formula for my daughter and put her back to sleep.

Just as I was about to lie down, I suddenly heard my husband's phone beep.

Worried that the sound might wake our daughter, I picked up his phone to put it on silent. But when I glanced at the screen, I saw an open forum page that hadn’t been closed.

The title of the post read: "What's it like to marry someone you don't love?"

My husband had replied, "No fun in bed at all. Every day, I think about getting a divorce."

Underneath, there were several replies hyping him up.

"Wow, dude, you're bold! Not even hiding behind anonymity? Aren’t you afraid your wife will see this?"

He responded, "Not worried, she's busy taking care of the baby. She doesn't have time for this."

And the comments went on, full of praise.

I looked at the man sleeping soundly beside me, feeling a wave of confusion.

Was this man, who showed such cold indifference toward his wife online, truly the same loving and gentle husband I knew in real life?

But I knew it was him.

Owen Clinton’s profile picture had always been the same—a distant, solitary figure of a girl bathed in moonlight.

I once playfully suggested he change it to a matching couple’s avatar with me.

It was one of the rare times he actually got angry.

Later, Owen brushed it off, saying it was just a picture he liked, and asked me not to read too much into it.

But after that, he never brought up the idea of changing it and continued to use the same image across all his social media, where he remained quite active.

Ding.

There was another message.

I clicked it open.

It was from Owen's school group.

Someone had forwarded his response, and the group chat was buzzing with excitement.

"Still hung up on Luna Dawson, huh, Owen?"

"Haha, you're in luck! Luna's coming back tomorrow, and a few of us are planning a welcome-back party. You joining us?"

Luna?

I clenched the phone tightly, my eyes glued to that name as my mind exploded in a whirlwind of confusion.

When we named our daughter, Owen insisted on calling her Luna, repeatedly saying in front of everyone that Luna was the only love of his life.

Could it be... that the origin of our daughter’s name was because of that Luna?

It felt like an invisible blade slicing through my heart, the pain overwhelming, yet I had no place to let out the scream trapped inside me.

Looking at the man peacefully sleeping beside me, I chose to put the phone back as if nothing had happened.

After all, Owen was the man I’d loved for five years and the father of my daughter. I had to give him a chance to explain.

With a swirl of emotions, I lay back down, gazing at the bright moonlight streaming through the window, yet all I felt was a deep, chilling cold.

The name "Luna" felt like a cold, unrelenting cage, slowly closing in and consuming me bit by bit.

…

The next morning, I woke up to find Owen already gone for work, having left breakfast for me on the table.

The temperature was just right, not too hot, not too cold.

I smiled, feeling comforted.

See, I knew it—Owen wasn’t that kind of person.

Just as I was reassuring myself that last night had been nothing but a bad dream, I noticed a gift box on the table.

How typical of him—today wasn’t even a special occasion, and yet he was being romantic again.

With a heart full of anticipation, I opened the box.

Inside was a luxurious diamond ring, advertised as "a gift meant for one special person, once in a lifetime."

Beside it lay a card.

I smiled even wider—until I saw what was written on the card.

My smile froze instantly.

"To my dearest Luna."

Luna.

Again, Luna!

My heart sank even further.

Our daughter was just a newborn, far too young for a ring like this.

And it was clearly too small to fit my fingers.