I remember the day I caught Edwin staring at Laura’s picture days before our mating ceremony and he said to me.
“She’s not wife material. Too young to understand what it takes to be Luna.” Then he looked at me and whispered, “But you, Selene, you’re different. I love you because you’ll always tend to my needs.”
I was only nineteen, almost twenty.
Like any foolish girl in love, I believed him. When he asked for a small court wedding, I didn’t argue. I’d dreamed of a fairy tale wedding, but I said yes because I loved him. I did everything he wanted, even when it hurt.
Now I see clearly. I ignored the red flags, thinking love had to be difficult. But while I thought he was my mate, he only saw me as a maid, someone to cook, clean, and obey without question.
Like I expected, no one noticed my tear-rimmed eyes, the patch of hair I’d pulled out in despair, or the fresh scars I hid beneath my sleeves, my only way to dull the pain.
My hands trembled as I stared blankly at the pancake batter, muttering nonsense just to stop myself from breaking down.
As usual, I washed endless dishes and cooked meal after meal to satisfy everyone’s cravings.
By noon, shopping bags spilled across the house—shoes, clothes, jewelry—proof I didn’t matter.
Rowan, my husband’s son, showed off his suit, grinning. “We have an important wedding on this trip. What do you think?”
I asked quietly, “Why a wedding? Isn’t this supposed to be a business conference?”
My mother snapped, “If you spent less time poking around and more time fixing your childlessness, maybe you’d be useful.”
Edwin sneered from his seat, “Since when did you become a detective? If you watched the news, you’d know one of my business partner’s daughters is getting married. Now, go get me a cold beer. The whole place smells like you haven’t showered today.”
I swallowed my tears, feeling invisible and worthless in the house I once called home.
As I handed Edwin his beer, he clicked his tongue. “The dry cleaner bailed. Family emergency. And every other place is closed. I want everything ironed—tonight. No creases, Selene..if I notice anything, you'll sleep in the cell”
Evening came fast.
The house buzzed with cologne, zipped luggage, and scattered shoes.
I stayed in the background, adjusting sleeves, buttoning shirts, tying scarves, wiping smudges from their polished shoes.
I even dabbed Edwin’s face with moisturizer like he asked, careful not to mess up his hair.
Then it happened.
A shriek tore through the hallway. “Mom! My dress!”
Laura stormed in, clutching her gown—ivory, pearl-stoned, and worth more than a year of my life.
The zipper hung open, broken clean through. She was trembling. “It’s ruined!”
Before I could speak, my mother was on me. A sharp slap cracked across my cheek, knocking the breath from my lungs.
“You stupid mistake of a child! What did you do?” she yelled.
I stood there, dazed, my fingers still stained with fabric softener and heat cream like a servant who forgot her place.
“I—I didn’t do anything,” I stammered, heart pounding. “I spent the night ironing, just like you asked. I didn’t even touch the dress.”
Edwin scoffed. “Of course you didn’t. Jealousy looks so ugly on you, Selene. You hated that I bought your sister something special, so you ruined it.”
My lips parted, searching for words but none came out.
“No, I swear—”
“Shut up!” he snapped.
Then he turned to the guards by the door. “Take her to the dungeon. Six lashes. Leave her there until I say otherwise.”
“What?” My voice barely came out.
“Don’t worry,” he turned to Laura, gently pulling her close, “I’ll get you another one, something even more expensive once we land. Let’s go, or we’ll miss our flight.”
The guards didn’t wait. Rough hands gripped my arms.
My feet scraped against the marble floor as they dragged me out.
Behind me, laughter resumed, luggage zipped, perfume filled the air.
The last thing I saw before the heavy door slammed shut was the hem of Laura’s heels brushing the floor... and no one even turned to look at me.
And as the guards shoved me into the damp, dark cell, pain laced through my back and my chest in equal measure.
I wondered—is this how I’ll spend the last days of my life?
Locked away like filth, punished for something I didn’t even do?
