Luna’s Moonlight Scar Novel – The night before my sister’s mating ceremony with the Alpha of the Ironwood Pack, she suddenly said— “Sis, you shouldn’t be my bridesmaid tomorrow.” I was fastening the handmade bracelet I’d strung for her, so I didn’t catch it at first. Her voice was as soft and delicate as always. “Even though you’re my only sister… the white scar on your face—” “The guests will talk.
I don’t want Alpha Gabriel to think I’m like a flawed moonstone.” “In short, your presence would be… embarrassing.” My hand froze. I hadn’t expected her to feel this way about me. Mom wrapped a coat around her shoulders, showing no reaction to her words, as if she agreed. “You’ve always been so kind to me, letting me have my way with everything since childhood, but tomorrow is my big day.” “Alpha Gabriel comes from a prominent family.
I don’t want him to be ridiculed by his friends for me having an unpresentable family.” … I lowered my eyes, looking at the bracelet in my hand, made up of one hundred and eight lustrous moonstones. It was one of the ceremony gift I had painstakingly selected, polished, and strung together for her. Now, it seemed to be part of the imperfection. I slowly removed the bracelet from her wrist and placed it back in its box.
“Okay,” I said softly. Nora let out a relieved sigh. “Emily, you’re the best. I knew you’d always love me the most.” Mom, stroking her silky hair, looked at her with a proud gaze. “Alright, stop standing around. Go rest up. Tomorrow, you need to be the most beautiful bride.” I silently tidied up the table, putting away the accessories I had prepared for the bridesmaid.
I should have gotten used to this. This habit had been a part of me since I was thirteen. That summer, I fell gravely ill and developed a white patch the size of a fingernail on the left side of my face. At first, my parents were very worried, taking me to healers everywhere. But six months later, my eleven-year-old sister discovered a similar white patch on her back while showering.
The atmosphere at home suddenly grew heavy. The healer said it was an autoimmune disease, with a lengthy and costly treatment process. And there was no guarantee of a full recovery. That night, I woke up in the middle of the night thirsty and overheard my parents arguing in their room. Dad said, “Both? How can we afford that much?” Mom whispered, “Then let’s treat one.
Nora is still young. Her life is just beginning. And her patch is on her back, easy to hide, so her chances of recovery are greater.” “What about Emily?” Dad asked. “Emily… she’s the older sister. She understands. She should let her sister have the treatment.” “Besides, hers is on her face. It’s already ruined. What’s the point of spending money on it?” The glass in my hand fell to the floor and shattered.
I didn’t cry. I just cleaned up the broken pieces quietly and went back to my room, burying my head under the covers. From that day on, I became the “understanding” older sister. All the family’s resources started shifting towards Nora. And all I received was the response, “The older sister should make way for the younger.” In neglect, the white patch gradually spread from the size of a fingernail to nearly half my cheek, like a flawed moonstone.
Coming back to the present, I placed the last piece of jewelry in its box. “Mom, I’m heading home now.” Mom finally looked back at me, her brow furrowing slightly. “Come over early tomorrow to help. Even if you’re not the bridesmaid, there are still many details to handle for the mating ceremony.” “OK.” I walked out my sister’s room.
In the living room, Dad was laughing and chatting with Gabriel. When Gabriel saw me, his smile faded a little. He nodded, barely a greeting. His gaze lingered on the white patch on my face for less than a second before moving away. We had grown up as childhood sweethearts. Before he went abroad, he had held my hand and said, “Emily, wait for me to come back.” But when he returned, all he saw was me, with my imperfection, and my talented, beautiful sister. He was disappointed.
I didn’t beg, nor did I resist. Because Mom said, “The older sister should make way for the younger. You need to support her.” I stepped out of the house, the evening breeze cool against my face. I looked up at the moon, which was bright and round. How flawless.