The Alpha's Discarded LunaChapter 1

"If you can’t give me a child, then what are you still here for?"

That was the first thing he said when I told him the truth. Not a pause. Not a moment of silence. Just that.

I could no longer get pregnant. The doctor’s words were final. My ovaries were weak. Two failed pregnancies had sealed that fate.

I grieved. I broke. My marriage with Darius was founded on love. It was arranged by our elders, but even before that, we already loved each other. That made our union effortless.

But everything crumbled the moment I told him I could no longer carry his child. The life we built began to collapse, one piece at a time. No matter what I did, I ended up with nothing.

Just like now.

"Rosella, prepare this," he said the moment he walked through the door.

I saw my favorite dish. The same one from the restaurant he once built for me. But I couldn't smile or feel the same excitement as before. I knew it wasn’t for me.

"L-Luna..." said the woman beside him, bowing her head like she was ashamed.

She stepped into our home like a visitor, but I knew better. She wouldn’t leave. Her presence was permanent. My eyes narrowed as I caught the unmistakable curve in her belly. It was something her clothes could no longer hide.

"Did you get the room beside ours ready?" Darius asked again.

I took the shopping bags from him. "Let her stay in our room. It’s more comfortable there," I said without looking at him.

I heard her gasp softly. I don’t know if she’s faking it because how could she be shock for something she surely…expected?

“Luna, I... I can’t stay in your bedroom...”

“You’re carrying his child. You’ve shared his bed already. Surely, a bedroom isn’t where you draw the line,” I replied.

I turned to walk away when Darius grabbed my arm. That used to shock me. That used to make me cry. But not anymore. I had become stone.

"What is with your attitude? If Sasha gets too emotional, it might harm the baby," he snapped.

My jaw clenched. That tone, that protectiveness, used to be mine. He used to look at me like that. Now he was shielding someone else. From me.

“I’ll handle it,” I muttered and left them.

I walked to the kitchen, shoulders sagging, heart sinking. I remembered how this day used to be. Roses scattered on the floor. A candlelit dinner he personally prepared. A gift waiting at the end of it all.

This was our anniversary.

But not this year.