When the Star and Moon No Longer Meet

After Ryan Spencer cheated on me again with his secretary, I completely lost it.

When my mind started to spiral, I grabbed the fruit knife off the table. I just wanted it to end.

“Why are you hurting yourself again? He doesn’t love you anymore?”

I looked up.

The sixteen-year-old Ryan was walking toward me, heartbreak written all over his face. His voice was gentle.

“Tell me who he is. I’ll make him pay.”

I stared into the bright, earnest eyes of the boy standing in front of me.

I didn’t say a word.

I simply lifted my hand and pointed at his face.

Later, Ryan was the one who had me admitted to a psychiatric hospital.

When the sedative began to wear off, the teenage boy appeared again, sitting by my bed.

He stared at the man outside who looked just like him. The light in his eyes faded little by little.

Then he spoke, his voice strained.

“I don’t care who he is. I’ll kill him.”

The sixteen-year-old Ryan never lied to me.

When he said something, he meant it.

When Ryan Spencer walked in, the scent that followed him was Wendy Henderson’s signature perfume.

His eyes fell on the fresh bandage wrapped around my wrist. He frowned.

“Jane, I was only gone for a minute. Why do you always have to make things harder for me?”

Before I could answer, he reached for the gauze. There was no concern in the gesture. Just impatience. Irritation.

I pulled my hand back instinctively and held it against my chest.

“It’s already been taken care of,” I said quietly.

His hand hung in the air for a second before dropping. The look he gave me slowly turned tired.

At first, when I said someone was protecting me, he thought my condition was getting worse. He used to hold me tightly, eyes red, like he could keep the world away if he tried hard enough.

Now, my pain had become something he couldn’t shake off. A weight he was done carrying.

“There is no one,” he said flatly. “Jane Nelson, how long are you going to keep lying to me?”

He didn’t wait for my reply. He grabbed my wrist.

My hand was shaking, but that didn’t soften him. If anything, his grip tightened.

He tore the bandage off. The dried blood stuck to the gauze pulled at my skin as it came away.

Cold sweat broke out across my back. Still, I lifted my wrist toward him.

“I didn’t lie to you,” I said, my voice trembling. “Not since I was fifteen. You know that.”

Something flickered across his face. Then he looked away.

“What about you?” I asked, staring at his back. My nose stung. “Have you lied to me?”

He froze.

He didn’t turn around. He didn’t answer.

The sixteen-year-old Ryan didn’t know how to lie.

The thirty-year-old Ryan had learned that silence said enough.

A few seconds later, he called out coldly toward the hallway.

“Maria, get every knife out of this room. Throw them away.

“If I ever see her holding something like that again, you can pack your things too.”

The housekeeper came in. She gathered the knives while muttering under her breath.

“When will Mrs. Spencer get better? Mr. Spencer has it so hard.”

Hard?

I stared at the thin line of blood trailing down my wrist. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Ryan, you don’t love me anymore.

So why won’t you let me go? Why keep dragging this out?

Before I could think any further, Wendy had walked in.

She moved through the house like she belonged there, lifting a hand to smooth Ryan’s crooked tie. Even with blood on the floor, her expression stayed calm. Soft. Proper.

“Mrs. Spencer,” she said gently, “if you’re clear-headed at all, you should let him go. It hurts to watch.”

She stepped closer, pretending concern.

The faint perfume Ryan had brought in now felt overwhelming. It filled the room. My stomach churned.

I bent over and gagged.

Through blurred vision, I reached for the hem of Ryan’s pants.

My fingers had just brushed the fabric when Wendy suddenly pressed a hand to her stomach and swayed.

Ryan saw me near him and shoved me away without thinking.

I hit the floor hard. My wrist scraped against the rough carpet. Fresh blood spread quickly.

“Are you dizzy? Is it low blood sugar?” he asked her urgently. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”

They left together, holding onto each other.

Just before the door closed, Ryan glanced back at me.

I couldn’t see his face against the light, but I understood the look in his eyes.

Relief.

Like someone who had finally slipped free of heavy chains.

Our love had ended.

His had just begun.

Maybe the housekeeper was right. Maybe being with me had been too much for him.

As that thought settled in, the boy in a school uniform appeared again.

He looked at me, tears falling one by one. He wanted to reach out, but he didn’t dare. His fingers trembled in midair.

“Jane,” he whispered, “you’re the best girl I’ve ever known. Leave him.”

I lifted my hand and gently covered his eyes.

My palm met nothing but cool air.

“I’ll go with you,” I said.

As the suffocating weight closed in, I felt like I was falling into someone’s arms.

Only there.

Only with the sixteen-year-old Ryan.

The one who would always love me.