Chapter 3 Whispers in the dark

Luna's Pov

The gentle click of the front door closing behind me sounded overwhelming in the silent house. I paused for a brief moment, straining to hear any noises of movement. The faint light from the living room television was the sole indication of life. I held my shoes by my fingers while taking cautious, quiet steps toward the stairs.

"Did you have a pleasant evening?"

The voice halted me in my steps. I glanced over to find Dad on the couch, one arm draped over the back and a hot cup of tea held in his hand. He appeared excessively satisfied, his face expressing a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"Dad," I complained, entering the living room. "Why are you awake?"

"I could ask you the same question too," he teased, tapping the cushion beside him. "Come on, take a seat. I'm eager to learn everything about it."

I paused, looking over at the stairs. "It's getting late. Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"I was unable to sleep, aware that you were out enjoying yourself," he responded, grinning. "Go on, make me laugh, I assure you I won't be overly intrusive."

With a sigh, I approached the couch and sank into it, placing my shoes on the ground. "Okay," I replied, reclining. "However, you cannot interrogate me."

"No guarantees," he replied, his smile growing wider. "Well, what was it like?"

I rolled my eyes but was unable to suppress the faint smile that played on my lips. "It was...pleasant."

"Pleasant?" he echoed, lifting an eyebrow. "Is that all you have?"

"Alright, I confess," I acknowledged. "It was beyond pleasant. Adrian is...distinct. In a positive manner. He's considerate and amusing, and he genuinely pays attention when I speak."

Dad nodded, his face relaxing. "Seems like a decent person."

"Indeed, he is," I replied, my tone softer at this moment. "I never expected to feel so at ease with him, but I did." "It was simple, you see?"

"That's the way it ought to be," Dad remarked. He placed his mug on the table and turned to look at me more directly. "I'm happy for you, Luna." "You have the right to feel that way."

His remarks surprised me unexpectedly. I looked at him for a moment, attempting to determine if he was sincere. "Are you not angry?"

"Why should I be angry?" he inquired, chuckling. "You are a grown-up." You have the freedom to date and to experience love. Just because I'm your father doesn't imply that I want you to be alone for all time."

I laughed lightly, moving my head side to side. "Um, I appreciate it, I suppose." That means a lot."

"Good," he said, his tone light. "Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"That if this Adrian guy ever gives you a reason to doubt him, you'll tell me," he said, his expression turning serious. "I may not look it, but I can still scare off a suitor if I have to."

"Dad!" I exclaimed, laughing despite myself.

"What?" he said, shrugging. "It's my job to protect you."

We fell into a comfortable silence, the faint murmur of the TV filling the space.

"So," Dad said after a while, a sly smile creeping onto his face. "When's the next date?"

I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks warmed. "I don't know. We'll see."

"You better keep me in the loop," he said, pointing at me. "I need time to prepare my interrogation questions."

"Goodnight, Dad," I replied, rising to my feet and shaking my head.

"Goodnight, my love," he exclaimed after me, his laughter trailing behind me as I climbed the stairs.

As I put on my pajamas and crawled beneath the sheets, I reflected on the evening in my mind. Dinner with Adrian was enchanting, the effortless laughter, the manner in which he listened, and how his eyes appeared to shine when he shared his dreams.

After an extended period, I finally experienced a sense of hope.

However, just as slumber started to envelop me, a subtle noise interrupted the stillness.

From below, I caught the hum of Dad's phone, then his voice, quiet and strained.

"Listen, I mentioned it before, I simply require more time," he said, his tone edged with urgency.

A sense of curiosity welled up inside me as I quietly got out of bed and moved toward the door. The corridor was dim, yet the glow from the living room extended gently over the ground. I opened my door just a bit, holding my breath as I paid attention.

"I'm trying my best," Dad went on, his voice shaking at that moment. "Please, do not involve her in this."

Her. My belly sank. Was he referring to me?

The voice echoing through the call was low and chilling, but I couldn't decipher the words.

"She knows nothing," Dad said after a moment, his voice trembling. "She's simply a girl. Don't bring her into this."

I covered my mouth with my hand, my heart racing so intensely I was convinced they could hear it.

The other voice spoke once more, more slowly this time. Whatever they mentioned caused Dad to breathe out unsteadily.

"Are you coming in two days?" he inquired, his voice hardly above a whisper.

Another pause.

"I'll do it," Dad said finally, the words heavy with defeat. "Just...don't hurt her."

The line went dead.

For a short time, there was silence. Then, I heard the sofa groan as Dad stood up, along with the soft sound of his mug set on the table.

I moved away from the door, my mind racing. Regardless of what the subject of that phone call was, it was not a good one. And based on the sound, I was right in the center of it.

Back in bed, I stared at the ceiling, my heart tight with worry. With whom had Dad been talking? What did they want? And what had he just agreed to?

As time passed slowly, one thought resonated in my mind: whatever was happening, it was out of my hands. And it was just beginning.

I barely got any sleep that night.

The intensity of the conversation I had heard burdened me, making my thoughts race while my body yearned for ease. My mind replayed every word, every sign of urgency in Dad's voice. Who had he been talking to? What might they want from me?

As the initial rays of morning seeped through my curtains, I shut my eyes tight, wishing for a bit more tranquility. However, it turned out to be useless. My chest was weighty, and my head pounded due to insufficient sleep.

With a sigh, I rolled onto my side, hiding my face in the pillow. Maybe it had all merely been a dream, I thought nervously. An intense and unusual dream triggered by my anxiety after the date.

However, deep down, I knew that it wasn't.

After lying there for what felt like forever, I finally forced myself to rise from bed. My arms and legs moved gradually as I headed to the bathroom. The mirror showed my weary face, featuring dark circles beneath my eyes and tangled hair.

As I splashed cold water on my face, I tried to wipe away the haze from the night before. I whispered softly, my voice shaking. "It can't be true at all."

The chilly water jolted my skin, completely awakening me, but it couldn't dispel the unease that surrounded me. I brushed my teeth, pulled my hair into a loose ponytail, and put on some cozy clothes. Even though I continued with my work, the memory of Dad's trembling voice stayed in my thoughts.

When I finally made my way down the stairs, the scent of coffee permeated the space, mixing with the soft noise of the television. Dad leaned against the counter in the kitchen, holding a mug.

"Good morning," I whispered, my tone weighed down by tiredness.

"Good morning," he replied, although he avoided making eye contact with me.

I stopped at the entrance, scowling. Usually, Dad was quick to make a joke or tease me about oversleeping, but today, he seemed...unusual. His shoulders were tight, and his gaze remained locked on the cup in his grasp.

"Would you like some coffee?" he asked, finally looking in my direction.

"Thanks, but no," I replied while entering the kitchen. "I'm okay."

"Do as you wish," he murmured, having a drink.

The quiet lingered between us, dense and uncomfortable. I observed him intently, noticing how he shifted his eyes away from mine, the slight furrow on his forehead, and the manner in which his fingers tapped on the counter.

And just like that, the discomfort from last night flooded back.

It was not just a dream.

The revelation struck me like a blow to the stomach, taking the breath from my chest. The call, his frantic tone, the way he pleaded with whoever it was not to bring me into it, it was all true.