My father was silent for three seconds.
Then came his reaction, trembling with emotion, nearly losing his voice.
“Aurora, you are finally willing to come home.”
I gripped the communication stone, my chest tightening until it hurt.
He continued, his tone gentle, as if afraid I might break.
“All these years we sought so many outstanding werewolf families for you, but you refused to meet any of them. I thought you would never come back.”
“Child, we saw every hardship you endured.”
“You coming home is the greatest comfort to us.”
I closed my eyes, my voice rough. “Dad, I was wrong.”
My father drew a soft breath, his tone firm and reassuring.
“It is alright. It is never too late to turn back. I will come for you in one week.”
When the link disconnected, I finally realized something.
I was not unwanted.
I had simply trapped myself in the wrong place.
I was about to continue packing when Henry pushed the door open.
He did not expect me to have wiped my tears so quickly. Seeing the communication stone in my hand, he frowned.
“Who were you talking to?”
My heart tightened. I slipped the stone into my pocket and answered with a flat, steady tone.
“No one. I connected the wrong link.”
Henry clearly did not believe me. His frown deepened. As always, he stepped forward, intending to take my communication stone to check it himself.
I was about to step back when a fragile, trembling voice sounded from the doorway.
“Henry. I am scared. Why are you not coming?”
The voice was soft and shaky, yet sweetened on purpose.
Henry froze for a heartbeat, then moved toward the door as if pulled by a string.
I followed him out and saw the scene at the entrance. My chest tightened painfully.
Demi stood there with one finger pressed lightly to her lips, a faint red mark at the corner of her mouth. The kind of mark that looked more like something she bit herself.
Henry immediately took her hand, his brows knitting with concern. “What happened?”
Demi lowered her head like a frightened young creature. “Your clan house placed the marriage painting too low. I did not notice and bumped into it.”
I let out a soft, cold laugh.
The marriage painting had hung there for five years without hurting anyone.
What scratched her was not the frame.
It was me.
It was the image of me in that painting.
Henry looked toward the marriage painting on the wall with a flicker of irritation in his eyes.
“It is indeed placed unreasonably. Aurora, have someone take it down and put it in storage.”
Demi stood beside him, eyes lowered, unable to hide the faint upward curve at the corner of her lips.
As if telling me
He only cares about her.
I did not step away.
I looked up calmly. “The storage room is full. There is no space.”
Henry’s expression darkened instantly.
Demi pressed her fingers lightly, inhaling through her teeth. “Henry, it hurts.”
That barely visible scratch was treated by him as if she had been bitten by a wild beast.
The next moment, he spoke coldly.
“Then burn it.”
The air fell silent.
I froze for a moment, though I was not surprised.
The old me would have felt my heart tearing apart, unwilling to let go of that marriage painting.
But now, all I felt was relief.
I nodded. “Alright.”
Henry blinked, as if surprised that I agreed without hesitation.
He likely could not understand
that I no longer cared about the marriage painting or him.
I called for the servants and had the painting taken down. Then I carried it myself to the clan fire in the courtyard.
When the flames rose and swallowed it, I felt as if I had burned away all the humility and illusions of the past five years.
