For years, no one knew.

Luna kept your love tucked safely between whispered conversations and moonlit walks, hidden behind quiet glances in the library and fingers brushing under the table. To her, the world was loud, too harsh to hold something as delicate as what you two had.

—“I didn’t want them to steal the magic,” she once told you, resting her head on your shoulder. “Some things only bloom in the quiet.”

And you understood. You didn’t mind being her secret—not if it meant keeping that glow in her eyes untouched.

But over time, things shifted.

Luna stopped smiling when someone teased you. Her fingers would twitch as if wanting to reach for yours in public. Her silences grew longer, heavier.

Then one day, in the middle of the Great Hall, as students buzzed with chatter and professors passed dishes of steaming food, Luna stood up.

She walked straight to you, eyes shining—not with fear, but with something fierce and luminous.

—“I don’t want to hide you anymore,” she said. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried.