On my 23rd birthday, slightly tipsy, I knocked on the door of the neighbor I had long harbored feelings for.

He was like the moon to my diary.

“Nathan, I’m in love with you,” I heard my voice tremble as I confessed.

He looked at me, his gaze complex, silent for a moment before speaking in a hoarse voice, “Lillian, I’m not a good person. Are you sure you want to be with me?”

I nodded, seeing his eyes darken.

The next second, an aggressive kiss landed on me.

I fell into his soft embrace.

It all felt like a dream.

I was finally with the man I loved.

Unfortunately, the happiness of stealing the moon didn’t last long.

I discovered that while he treated me well, he didn’t love me.

As joy overwhelmed us, I heard the name of another woman.

It turned out my moon also had his own moon.

A woman in love is particularly good at comforting herself, like me.

Three years should be enough to warm even a stone.

But the stone I was warming never got very warm.

Nathan Brooks matched most women’s fantasies about a partner.

Gentle, considerate, handsome, wealthy, and virtuous.

Apart from not loving me, he was perfect in every way.

But I often forgot this flaw. His gaze was tender, his kisses passionate.

Back then, I didn’t understand what he meant by not being a good person.

Until the day he caught a male colleague, who was on his way home, helping me – someone who had accidentally twisted her ankle – get home.

Nathan took me from him gently.

But once home, he threw me onto the bed.

“Lillian, don’t let other men touch you. It makes me sad,” he said.

His warm hands massaged medicine into my injury, his touch light, but I broke out in goosebumps.

From a distance, you wouldn’t know how sharp the crescent moon could be, enough to cause wound.

Nathan’s sharpness gradually became clear.

He began to check my phone, deleted colleagues who expressed affection towards me, cared whether I came straight home after work, and monitored where I went for parties.

I was terrified yet thrilled by all this.

Because provoking his attention was the first step to winning him over.

One day I came home very late and was startled by Nathan standing by the door, his expression dark, the corners of his eyes slightly red.

As his anger was about to burst, I switched to a pitiful expression and burst into tears.

“Nathan, I don’t want to go to work anymore. I’m so tired.”

I hugged him, feeling his body stiffen with confusion.

After a moment, he patted my back.

“Then don’t go. I’ll take care of you.”

After I quit my job, Nathan’s tense demeanor eased.

I discovered he greatly enjoyed hiding me away.

It didn’t cost him any effort to control me, not even hiding those handcuffs and shackles in his study.

My proactive submission restored his full-moon gentleness.

Except for exposing me to outsiders, he was always very affectionate towards me.

Whenever I found him calling that woman’s name, I would pretend to go to work, and he would try all the harder to keep me around.

He was like the fox in The Little Prince, being tamed by me.

But unlike the Little Prince, I loved him – not for a rose but for this sole moon.

Today was his birthday.

He cooked a splendid meal, and I watched him happily.

“Happy Birthday, Nathan. I love you forever.”

“You’re always so sweet,” he said.

He served the food, handing it to me.

“Nathan, will you always love me?”

“Yes, I will.”

I smiled even sweeter, satisfied with his answer.

The cream cake was all smeared on me, completely wasted.

Nathan held me as I took a warm bath.

I leaned into his arms and bit hard on his arm until I drew blood.

“Here’s an unforgettable birthday gift for you, Nathan.”

I smiled at him cheekily.

He wasn’t angry; instead, he came closer and kissed the blood from my lips.

We lived on, inseparably.

Though he was supporting me, I never let myself waste away.

A woman must always have a skill to turn to, able to say “go to hell” to things she despises.

I kept freelancing, submitting designs to a jewelry company, and the earnings were quite substantial.

When bored, I would study at home to improve myself.

Today, when he returned, his expression was a bit guilty.

The phone screen was turned down on the table, and I snuggled into his embrace, acting spoiled.

But I knew, Luna Gray was coming back.

Nathan had become exceedingly restless lately.

He was extraordinarily kind to me, to the point of feeding me by hand and bringing water to my lips.

On my birthday, I persuaded him to take me out after much coaxing.

We agreed to go to an amusement park.

I dressed carefully in a bright yellow tulle dress and put on a vibrant, sweet makeup look.

At the amusement park, I attracted many glances from men, but I pretended not to notice Nathan’s darkening expression and laughed carelessly.

“Lillian, let’s go back, we’ve been out for too long,” he said, trying to sound gentle but a hint of darkness seeped through.

My moon seemed to be sharpening again.

“Just one last ride, please?” I looked at him with pleading eyes.

His compromise resulted in us signing two waivers.

We stood together on the bungee platform, tightly embracing each other.

They say people might mistake fear for love when they are scared.

As we looked into each other’s eyes, I remembered a saying, “Love is so hard; people often hesitate to dive in.”

But I was resolute, as long as it was him.

The safety officer checked our gear thoroughly before signaling us to jump.

“Nathan, I love you, until death do us part.”

I gazed deeply at him, repeating the phrase I had said a thousand times in my heart.

“I love you too, Lillian,” he said, thinking this moment was all there was.

But that might not necessarily be true, my moon.

As we jumped, the roaring wind screamed in my ears.

My heartbeat was wild and intense.

I thought, if I were to die at this moment, it would be quite beautiful.

To die in the arms of my lover, and my lover to die in mine.

My moon.

He should lie in the same coffin and be buried in the same earth as me.

If not in this life, then his ashes should be mixed with mine.

On the way home, he held my hand tightly.

That night was wild, as if he was about to lose me.

He murmured my name thousands of times.

It was a gamble, and I knew how the story would unfold.

But still, I wanted to wager on the moon in the sky and the treasure he cherished on earth, and see what he would choose.

As if by a law, the day we parted was rainy.

The torrential rain outside tapped against my fragile nerves.

He came back very late, his tie askew, bearing signs of irritation.

He sat down beside me, the smell of tobacco heavy on him.

“What’s wrong, Nathan? You look a bit off.”

He hugged me, long and hard.

So long that I thought I had won the gamble, then he let go of me.

“Lillian, let’s break up. I’m sorry.”

He looked at me, his eyes full of reluctance, yet he spoke those cruel words.

I pretended to be shocked.

But the pain was real.

He reached out to wipe away my tears with a pained expression.

I stepped back and wiped them away myself.

“Nathan, is it because of Luna? Are you going to leave me for her?”

“Lillian, stop crying. It’s my fault.”

I watched as his eyes also moistened, and I felt slightly better.

“Nathan, so, you don’t need my love anymore, do you?”

I stopped the tears and looked at him seriously.

I saw fear in his eyes.

“Lillian,” he called softly, unable to say the words to keep me.

I lowered my eyes, showing disappointment on my face, and spoke weakly.

“I understand. I’ll come to gather my things tomorrow while you’re at work.”

I walked out the door and returned to my own home next door.

Heartbroken, I should have been sleepless.

Under the dim light, I unlocked the drawer to reveal a cabinet full of journals.

Mixed with the smell of the wood, they seemed even more ancient.

I started with journal number one.

That was about me at eight years old, the first time I met Nathan Brooks.

That day, Dad threw Mom’s dress out of the house, and amid screams, I heard the buzzing of a razor.

Mom’s hair was gone, and so was her smile.

I hid under the table, curling into a small ball.

I had long learned to cry silently; the dark spots on my trousers were salty tears.

When Dad turned his crazed gaze toward me with the razor in his hand.

I trembled, fumbled with the door several times, and finally burst out.

The rain poured heavily, but comfort was not hard to get.

Nathan Brooks, at 13, sheltered me under a bright yellow umbrella, creating a small haven like a moon on a rainy day.

My gray life suddenly had a glimmer of brightness.

After that, I often hid at his place, like a refuge from a storm.

At 10, I awoke to the sound of a baby crying and peeked out the door to see Nathan reaching for his one-year-old brother’s neck until the sound of keys at the door stopped him.

At 15, after my mother left and my father drowned his sorrows in drink, Nathan went off to college.

I chose boarding school over returning home.

From neighborhood gossip, I learned Nathan was adopted by his parents.

At 18, when my father tried to use me to settle his debts with loan sharks, Nathan stepped in to save me, standing against those tough men.

When he protected me, I thought I loved him, though I suspected it was just a misperception caused by the stress of the situation.

By 20, when I was living alone in the old house, Nathan asked if I wanted to move out and then gifted me the place next to his.

He seemed so lonely when he visited that day, his eyes said it all.

His parents had disowned him for pushing his 10-year-old brother down the stairs.

At 23, we were together.

Today, at 26, we split up.

I had unexpectedly discovered his darkness was my secret joy.

People are often captivated by the allure of something unique and unexplored, just as I alone seemed to see the dark side of the moon.

But I loved him, like the moon. I loved his fullness, his crescent, his darkness and his brightness.

Of course, I wanted him to love me, just as I loved him.

When I went to gather my things, as I expected, he was still at home. The relentless rain outside continued, and he sat in the dark living room, making it seem even more like a gloomy day.

He sat on the couch as if waiting for me, an ashtray on the table filled with cigarette butts.

His face was haggard, his jaw shadowed with stubble, his white shirt crinkled. Hearing me, he looked up, his eyes red with sleeplessness.

A glint appeared in his distant gaze.

“Lillian, can you not move out?” His tone was full of pleading.

I looked at his chapped lips and poured him a glass of warm water, keeping my demeanor cold, like someone trying to regain a bit of dignity after being rejected.

“Nathan, even if I love you, I won’t demean myself. You’ve chosen Luna, haven’t you?”

After speaking, I turned and went into the room to start packing. I deliberately left behind enough to provoke memories, hoping they would disturb his sleep.

As I pulled my suitcase out of the room, he called out my name, his voice tinged with desperation.

“I can’t bear to see you with someone else. Can you stand to see me come home with someone else?”

Before I could respond, the glass shattered in his hand, followed by the crisp sound of the fragments scattering. I could almost hear his sanity breaking along with it.

My little moon couldn’t hold back, could he? What would he do if I really brought someone home?

A sense of victorious joy rose within me, though I feigned panic on my face.

“Nathan, are you alright?”

I approached him as he spoke softly.

“Lillian, stay back, there are shards.”

Nathan, blood streaming from one hand, picked up the pieces at his feet. I watched his blood drip onto the white tiles, spreading red like roses in the snow.

It hurt, but I was also pleased – I’m such a complicated creature.

Consider it a small punishment.

I fetched the first aid kit and gently treated his wound, blowing softly.

“Lillian, I…” he started, his expression looking as if he wanted to say more, but his phone rang.

Seeing his conflicted look, I knew it was Luna.

I quietly packed up and left without him speaking further.

Hmm, it seems his moon has a strong allure.

What of it.

You better hurry back to me, my little moon, or else, I might not resist punishing you further.

After leaving, the first thing I did was apply to his company.

With my past achievements, getting hired was a breeze.

Of course, I had to stay close to remind his heart of what it really wanted.

On my first day in the jewelry design department, I met Luna Gray.