His Silent Luna (Verity and Felicity) novel Chapter 37

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Verity’s Perspective

The morning light was just beginning to filter through the curtains when I heard a gentle knock at my door. To my surprise, it was Caleb again, standing there with that familiar, easy grin. It was barely dawn, and I couldn’t help but wonder how he managed to be up so early, especially looking so energized. His knock was soft, almost tentative, as if he wasn’t quite sure if I’d answer. But when I opened the door, his smile told me he’d been waiting for this moment.

Since yesterday, something between us had shifted. Caleb remained his quiet, reserved self, but now there was more warmth in his eyes, and he smiled more freely. It was a subtle change, but it made me feel lighter inside.

“Come on,” he said, voice low but charged with excitement. “We’re going for a run.”

Running.

The word hit me like a jolt. I hadn’t run in… well, longer than I cared to admit. My body tensed for a brief moment, a flicker of hesitation curling in my stomach. Yet, the sparkle in his eyes and the casual way he leaned against the doorframe softened the command into an irresistible invitation.

Before I could second-guess myself, I found myself nodding.

I shook my head slightly at his enthusiasm—I couldn’t quite share it—but I didn’t argue. The cool morning air greeted us as we stepped outside, crisp and fresh with the promise of a new day. Behind us, the castle was slowly coming to life, its towering silhouette casting long shadows over the courtyard like a great beast still reluctant to wake.

Caleb broke into a light jog, glancing back to make sure I was following. I kept my pace gentle at first, feeling out how my body moved, how my feet met the earth beneath me.

Surprisingly, it felt freeing. My lungs burned almost immediately, and my legs ached, but there was a rhythm to it—the steady pounding of feet, the measured breaths—that began to clear the fog in my mind. Caleb didn’t push me; I could tell he was holding back, matching my pace, sometimes edging ahead, sometimes falling beside me, silently reminding me I wasn’t alone.

We veered off the main path, swallowed by towering trees until all that surrounded us was thick forest and the soft rustle of wildlife. The air here was cooler, damp with the scent of pine and rich soil. Birds sang from high branches, their melodies weaving a magical backdrop to our quiet footsteps.

In that moment, I understood why Caleb preferred these early hours. There was something almost healing about running through the woods before the world fully woke.

After some time, when my lungs felt like they were on fire and sweat slicked my back, Caleb slowed us to a stop beneath a sprawling oak tree. He gave me a moment to catch my breath, then crouched down, drawing shapes in the dirt with a stick.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, brushing dark hair from his forehead, “you need another way to communicate. Paper and charcoal work most times, but what if you don’t have them? Or if your hands aren’t free? You need something faster.”

I tilted my head, intrigued, wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my wrist.

“Sign language,” he explained simply.

I frowned, confused.

“It’s a language,” he continued, his hands moving fluidly as he spoke, “where you use your fingers to talk. In this kingdom, some people use it because they can’t speak or hear. But mostly, it’s for warriors—if they’re behind enemy lines and can’t speak out loud, they can still communicate without a mindlink. Here, it could be useful for you too. Silent communication can save lives.”

A tightness squeezed my chest. I wanted to ask why he cared so much, why he was putting in all this effort for me. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, a quiet warmth spread through me at the thought of his dedication.

Caleb smiled softly at my silence, then tapped the stick against the dirt again. “Come on. I’ll teach you the basics. You should at least know how to spell your name.”

Patiently, he broke down each gesture, exaggerating every movement with care. V. E. R. I. T. Y. His hands moved like he was shaping something delicate out of thin air. It was surprisingly fun. When it was my turn, my fingers fumbled, awkward and unsure, but each time I almost got it right, he nodded encouragingly. And when I finally nailed it, his grin lit up like the sun breaking through storm clouds.

“See?” he said proudly. “That’s yours now. Your name in silence.”

I tried again, slower this time, more deliberate, and felt a small smile tug at my lips.

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