I stood up and followed him to our bedroom. He was taking off his jacket, acting casual, like this was any other day. Something about the way he moved so easily while my world was shattered made my blood boil.
“Damon,” I said, my voice shaking with a mix of sadness and anger.
He barely looked at me. “What is it, Luna?”
"What is it?" His words hit me like a slap. I wanted to scream, to demand how he could be so cold, but something else caught my attention. There was a scent on him—faint, but familiar. It wasn’t mine. It was hers.
I stepped closer, my heart pounding. “Why... Why do you smell like Leah?”
Damon froze for just a second, then shrugged like it was nothing. “What are you talking about?”
“I can smell her on you, Damon,” I said, my voice low but sharp. “Why do you smell like my sister!?”
He didn’t meet my eyes, and that was all the answer I needed. “We were together earlier,” he said, still too calm. “She needed someone to talk to after the funeral. What else could it be?”
I blinked, barely able to process what I was hearing. “You left me, Damon. You left me and Noah, and now you’re spending time with her?”