The Fading Moon Chapter 7: The Secret Behind Her Smile

Read chapter 7 of The Fading Moon by MananTayal on NovelPedia.

Mike barely slept. The image of Jessika stumbling near the station replayed in his mind over and over again. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face. Pale. Scared. Fragile. And most importantly... Hiding something. By morning, he had convinced himself of one thing. He needed answers. Not because he was curious. Because he was worried. And that realization alone was enough to make his chest feel heavy. For years, Mike had carefully avoided becoming attached to people. Attachments led to pain. Expectations led to disappointment. Distance was safe. Yet somehow Jessika had broken through every wall he had built. Now her pain felt like his pain. And he hated it. The next day felt endless. Mike sat at his desk pretending to work while his thoughts wandered elsewhere. His coworkers noticed immediately. "You okay?" One of them looked over from a nearby desk. Mike nodded automatically. "Fine." "You've been staring at the same screen for ten minutes." Mike looked at his monitor. The design project hadn't changed at all. "..." His coworker laughed. "Rough night?" "You could say that." For the rest of the day, Mike found it impossible to focus. Every notification made him check his phone. Every vibration made his heart jump. Yet no messages came. Nothing from Jessika. By evening, he felt even worse. Normally she would have sent something. A joke. An insult. A random photograph of the moon. Anything. Today there was nothing. And the silence worried him more than he wanted to admit. After work, Mike headed toward the usual station where they often met. Part of him knew it was pointless. Part of him hoped anyway. The station was crowded. Thousands of people moved through the area. Students. Office workers. Tourists. Families. Yet the one person he wanted to see wasn't there. Mike checked nearby streets. The convenience store. The small park. Even the café they occasionally visited. Nothing. No Jessika. The sun slowly disappeared behind the buildings. Darkness began covering the city. Still nothing. For the first time since meeting her, Mike felt genuinely afraid. As he walked home, his phone suddenly vibrated. His heart immediately jumped. He grabbed it. A message. Jessika. Relief flooded through him so quickly that it almost made him laugh. The message was short. Meet me tomorrow. Mike immediately replied. Where are you? Several minutes passed. No answer. He tried again. Are you okay? Nothing. Finally another message appeared. Tomorrow. 6 PM. The hill. The hill. The shrine overlooking the city. Her favorite place. Before he could type anything else, she went offline. Mike stared at the screen. His uneasiness only grew stronger. Something was coming. He could feel it. The next day felt even longer. Every hour seemed endless. Every minute dragged painfully. By the time evening arrived, Mike was already climbing the shrine hill. The sky glowed orange. The city below shimmered with thousands of lights. And standing beneath the old tree was Jessika. Waiting. For a moment, relief washed over him. Then he got closer. And his heart sank. She looked worse. Much worse. Her smile remained. But it looked weaker than ever. The dark circles beneath her eyes were impossible to miss. Even standing seemed difficult for her. "Jessika." She smiled softly. "Hey." Mike walked closer. "What happened?" The question escaped immediately. No greetings. No jokes. No pretending. Jessika looked away. The wind moved gently through her hair. For several moments she remained silent. Then she asked: "Do you remember the first night we met?" Mike blinked. "What?" "The rain." "The moon." "The umbrella." Mike nodded slowly. "Of course." Jessika smiled. "I remember everything." Something about the way she said it made his chest tighten. As if she were talking about a memory from years ago instead of a few months. "Jessika." She looked at him. And for the first time since they'd met, there was no mask. No playful smile. No teasing. Only sadness. Raw sadness. "I need to t