Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 125

Abby

The scent of mahogany and bergamot fills the air as I step into the room that was once mine—our room, really.

I feel so drawn to the familiarity of it all; the embroidered curtains, the chestnut armoire that I remember picking out myself, and the plush rug that used to cushion my bare feet in the mornings. Every little detail is still the same, just as I remember it. It’s uncanny, really.

My fingers trace the intricate patterns on the upholstery of the armchair near the window. It’s a bit surreal, being back in this space. I mean, this was my sanctuary once. Our sanctuary. But now, it’s filled with… bittersweet memories. Maybe more bitter than sweet.

I move to the dresser next. That’s when I see it: a photo of us, still sitting exactly where it used to be on top of the dresser—Karl and I laughing at something, looking so young, so naive. My eyes widen slightly as I gently pick it up. Did he have this picture up all this time?

As I hold the picture, something stirs in me. Tears begin to prick the backs of my eyes, and I have to set the frame back down with a ragged breath, laying the photo flat so I don’t need to look at it. Suddenly, it feels all too stuffy in here, and I need to get out for a bit.

I make my way down the winding staircase and out through the large foyer, bypassing the glances of a few household staff. When I reach the back patio, I take a deep breath, as if I can finally breathe again. Then, pushing open the door, I step into the garden, a sanctuary that I used to escape to when the weight of the world felt unbearable.

The colors and smells envelop me instantly, filling my senses with a mix of nostalgia and tranquility. Rows of roses, lavender, and daisies stretch out in front of me like an artist’s vivid canvas. I walk past a bunch of lilies, their heads tilted towards the sun, and reach the jasmine vine that was always my favorite. Leaning in, I take a deep sniff. Its scent is as intoxicating as I remember.

For a moment, I feel free from the memories and the speculation that my return is no doubt generating.

But then, feeling as though someone is watching me, I look up instinctively toward the mansion. Overhead in a window, that’s where I see Gerald, the butler, staring at me through one of the back windows.

His face is inscrutable, but his eyes, they hold a certain...bewilderment? Or is is something else?