Luna had been with me long before he came into my life.
She shared my loneliness, my laughter, my tears — always by my side, always understanding without words.

When I fell in love, Luna accepted him calmly.
When we got married, she simply lay at my feet, as if she knew — now there were three of us.

And then, a miracle happened — I found out I was pregnant.

From that day on, Luna changed.
She stopped playing and hardly ever left my side.
Every evening, she would lie down next to me, rest her head on my belly, and listen — as if she could feel the tiny heartbeat inside.

When the baby kicked, Luna’s ears perked up and she let out a soft, happy whine — as though she was laughing with me.

But whenever my husband came close and placed his hand on my stomach, she would step between us, growling, baring her teeth.
Once, she even bit him on the arm.

I was frightened.
He shouted that he’d get rid of her, called her crazy.
But I defended her. I thought she was just jealous — that she felt someone was taking me away from her.

I was wrong.
And Luna knew it.

After the baby was born, things got worse.
My husband grew distant, irritated by every cry.
Sometimes I caught a strange, dark look in his eyes — something cold and dangerous — but I couldn’t understand it.

Then one night, the truth revealed itself.

He was in the shower, and I picked up his phone to set an alarm.
That’s when I saw the messages.

“I can’t stand the noise anymore,” he wrote to his mother.

“She only cares about that kid now. This baby ruined everything. Sometimes I think things would be easier if he wasn’t here.”

My heart stopped.
It all made sense — the anger, the distance, the shadows in his eyes.
And suddenly, I realized: all this time, Luna had been trying to warn me.

She had felt the darkness in him.
She knew he could hurt us.

She wasn’t jealous — she was protecting me.
Protecting us.

Now my little boy is growing up, and Luna never leaves his side.
She sleeps by his bed, listens patiently to his laughter, gently takes treats from his tiny hands.

And every time I look at them together, one thought fills my mind:
If it weren’t for her — my son might not be here today.