Tattooed in Moonlight

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The car ride was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed on my chest like an extra seatbelt.

I sat with my arms crossed, staring out the tinted window as the city blurred past. "So, where are we going? Another boardroom where people faint at your one-word sentences? Another hotel kitchen where chefs practically curtsy?"

"No," Travis said.

"Great. Love the details."

He didn't elaborate, of course. Just sat there, dark and unreadable, like the world existed to obey his GPS.

When the car finally rolled through wrought gates and onto a shaded driveway, I blinked. This wasn't another hotel. It wasn't an estate. It wasn't marble and fountains.

It was... simple.

A long, low building with whitewashed walls. A bell tower with a cross. Gardens filled with bougainvillea and sunflowers. Children's laughter echoing before I even stepped out of the car.

I turned slowly to him. "You're kidding."

"No."

"Travis," I hissed, "did you just drive me to an orphanage?"

"Yes."

"Oh my god."

He stepped out, and I followed, my flats crunching against gravel. Immediately, a group of kids spotted us and came running, their voices high and bright.

And then—

"ATE KAIRA!!!"

I nearly fell backwards.

Half a dozen kids shrieked my name like I was some superhero. Within seconds, more poured out of the building—tiny feet pounding the ground, faces lit up with joy.

"It's her!" one shouted.

"I saw her in Your Majesty!" another squealed.

"She's in the shampoo commercial! I memorized the jingle!"

I gaped, utterly unprepared as small hands tugged at my sleeves, my hair, my heart.

"Oh my god," I breathed. "They know me."

"Of course," Travis said, steady as ever. "They watch you."

My chest cracked. Because it wasn't fan-girl screaming at a mall show. It wasn't red-carpet flashbulbs. It was pure, unfiltered joy. These kids—who probably didn't have a lot—had still found me on their tiny TV screens.

A little girl with braids clung to my arm. "Ate Kaira, you're so pretty in person! Can you say your line? From the drama?"

My brain blanked. "Which line?"

She gasped dramatically, throwing her hands over her heart. "'You are my moon, even in the darkest sky!'"

The other kids burst into giggles, repeating it until the whole courtyard was chanting my most overacted line in history.

I covered my face. "Oh god, that scene went viral for being cheesy."

The kids didn't care. They kept chanting, laughing, orbiting me like I was the actual moon.

And for the first time in weeks, I laughed with them. Really laughed.

A voice broke through—warm, lilting, full of calm authority. "Children, children! Give our guest some air."

I turned to see them: the nuns. Habits crisp, smiles soft, eyes bright with something deeper than duty.

One stepped forward, her hands clasped. "Welcome, Miss Chaves. We've seen you on the screen as well. The children adore you."