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When the Star and Moon No Longer Meet Novel Cover

When the Star and Moon No Longer Meet

After catching Ryan Spencer in another affair, his wife reaches her breaking point. In her despair, a sixteen-year-old version of Ryan manifests, offering comfort and vengeance. When the adult Ryan commits her to a psychiatric ward, the protective phantom remains by her side. This younger, earnest version of her husband vows to eliminate the man he has become. In this dark fantasy romance, the past literalizes to destroy a painful present.
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Chapter 3

I couldn’t sleep that night.

At some point, Ryan was standing by the bed, staring at the nightstand with a complicated look in his eyes.

All the knives had been thrown out.

And yet, sitting there was a neatly peeled apple.

The peel hadn’t broken. It curled in one long spiral.

That was the kind of patience only the sixteen-year-old Ryan had.

I thought maybe, while I was asleep, the boy had come to see me again.

I shot upright and threw my arms around the figure in front of me, burying my face in his suit.

“You peeled the apple and left. I thought… I thought you weren’t going to stay with me tonight.”

Ryan’s body went rigid. Like he didn’t know what to do with me.

After a long pause, he awkwardly patted my back.

The movement was stiff. Careful.

“Jane… are you having another nightmare?”

The moment I realized it was his voice, I screamed and shoved him away, scrambling to the corner of the bed.

“Go away. You’re not him.”

He stepped closer and dropped to one knee beside me.

He stared into my frightened eyes, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheek. His voice was unusually soft.

“There’s no one else here but me.

“I know you’re upset about the live stream today. I swear, once Wendy has the baby, I’ll come home and spend more time with you.

“Come with me to the family dinner tomorrow. Okay?”

His grip on my wrist loosened slightly, like he was waiting for my answer.

I looked up through blurred tears.

“Ryan… let’s get divorced.”

The warmth that had just started to return to his eyes vanished.

For a second, I felt his anger. Then it twisted into something else. Something almost possessive. Like he was terrified of losing something.

He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight.

I forgot to struggle.

Until a hot tear landed on the back of my hand.

Through my blurred vision, I thought I saw the sixteen-year-old Ryan crying for me, whispering that I wasn’t allowed to leave.

My hand trembled as I reached up and wiped away the tear.

My fingertips touched warm skin.

Like I was soothing something fragile.

“Okay… I won’t divorce. I’ll come with you.

“Ryan, don’t cry.”

The next day, he brought me to the family dinner.

The moment he turned away to greet someone, Wendy approached with a glass of wine in hand.

She deliberately rested a hand on her barely noticeable stomach. The other toyed with the star-and-moon necklace at her collarbone.

She leaned close to my ear and smiled openly.

“Honestly, I admire you,” she said. “Even crazy, you still get to live comfortably at home.

“Oh, and that useless foundation of yours? I didn’t even want it. Things left behind by dead people are bad luck.

“Mr. Spencer just didn’t want to deal with it. Said it annoyed him. So he handed it to me to take care of.”

I stared at her red lips as they moved.

The last thread of control I had snapped.

“Wendy, you’re shameless.”

Her smirk didn’t fade.

I reached out.

I barely used any force.

But Wendy let out a dramatic cry and fell backward.

Behind her, the champagne tower crashed to the floor.

Glass shattered like an explosion, echoing through the entire hall.

“Jane! Have you completely lost it?”

Before I could react, a furious hand struck my face.

The sound of the slap cut through the room.

Silence followed.

The hit was so hard I tasted blood instantly.

A thin line of red slid down from the corner of my mouth.

I fell among the shards of glass, my palms slicing open as I tried to steady myself.

I didn’t feel the pain.

Because at that very moment, Ryan was holding Wendy carefully in his arms, shielding her.

He didn’t look at me once.

In front of everyone.

The boy in the school uniform came running toward me again.

He stumbled and dropped to his knees beside me, desperately trying to pull me up.

But his fingers passed through me over and over again.

He was sobbing, his voice breaking through the murmurs in the room.

“Stop hitting her! Ryan, you bastard! Don’t touch her!

“Run, Jane!

“The Ryan you see now doesn’t love you anymore! You’re going to die!”