The rain fell steadily outside, blurring the windows of the small apartment where Artemis stood, rigid and silent. Luna sat across from him, her eyes swollen, her fur matted from tears. Between them was a canyon of betrayal that no words seemed able to cross.
“You lied to me for months,” Artemis said finally, his voice low and shaking. “You let me hold you, sleep beside you, while you carried someone else’s child. While I treated your illness like it was some mystery flu.”
Luna shrank under his gaze. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, Artemis.”
“But it did,” he growled. “And now I have to get tested, again. I have to explain to Diana why I moved out. Why you’re having a kitten that isn’t hers. That isn’t ours.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I thought we were drifting apart. I was lonely. You were so focused on Diana, on being perfect. I felt invisible.”
“I was being a father,” Artemis snapped. “To our daughter.”
“And I felt like nothing more than the kitten-sitter when you weren’t home!” Luna’s voice cracked. “He was just… there. And I made the worst mistake of my life.”
Artemis stared at her, the silence afterward more painful than shouting could have been. “And the STD?” he asked, colder now.
She flinched. “He didn’t tell me. I didn’t know.”
“But you knew before I did,” Artemis said. “And you still let me—” He stopped, disgusted. “I can’t stay here.”
He turned and left, the door shutting behind him with a thud that echoed through the stillness.
—
A few days later, Diana came to visit. She sat stiffly on Luna’s couch, her arms crossed, lips thin with disappointment.
“You said you loved Dad,” she said.
“I do,” Luna replied. “I always did.”
“Then why?”
Luna looked down at the floor, at her paws that had done so much wrong. “Because I was weak. And I thought love was about being chosen, every day. I didn’t realize I had to choose it too—even on the lonely days.”
Diana didn’t respond, only glanced at the nursery door. A faint whimper echoed from inside.
“You have a half-sister,” Luna said quietly. “Not the baby. Someone else. Before you were born, I had a kitten I gave up. I never told anyone. I thought I could start over with you and your father. I thought I could be new.”
Diana stood up slowly. “You didn’t need to be new, Mom. You just needed to be honest.”
Luna reached out but didn’t touch her. “Are you going back to him?”
“I live with Dad now,” Diana said. “He didn’t lie to me. He didn’t break us.”
She walked to the door, hesitating before opening it.
“Why couldn’t it be like it used to?” she asked without turning around.
Luna’s voice came after a long silence, almost inaudible. “Because I broke what we had… and I can’t unbreak it.”
Diana left. And Luna sat alone, listening to the quiet cry of a kitten who hadn’t asked to be born into the ruins of something once whole.
