I watched Dave’s figure disappear beyond the doorway, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if he could feel my eyes burning holes into his back. A bitter taste filled my mouth, something between regret and quiet rage. But I swallowed it down. What good would it do now?
Lying in the cold, empty bed, I stared at the ceiling as silent tears slipped down my cheeks. The pain wasn't sharp anymore—it had dulled into a constant, gnawing ache. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood and whispered into the darkness, "Dave, you can have it all. I’m done fighting for scraps."
Five days. That was all that stood between me and freedom. Five days until the cruise set sail.
I rose before the sun, driven by a restless energy that wouldn't let me sleep. I needed to finalize the last of the preparations. Once the ship arrived, I’d board without a backward glance. Morocco was the first stop—a territory far beyond our pack’s reach, untouched by Crescent Howl influence. It was a place I had always dreamed of visiting, somewhere I could finally breathe without feeling the weight of expectations crushing me.
Packing had been easy. I only took what mattered. The rest? Let them rot in this house filled with lies.
Dave came home earlier than usual. His presence felt suffocating, like a predator lurking just beyond my line of sight. I was folding the last of my clothes when he appeared in the doorway, watching me with that same disarming smile he used to wear so easily.
"Darling, you’re working too hard," he said, his tone soft, falsely warm. He stepped closer, gently taking my hand in his. "Once we’re married, you won’t need to lift a finger. I’ll handle everything. You just need to be happy."
I stared at him, wondering how many times he’d rehearsed that line. Did he whisper the same sweet lies to my sister?
I forced a small, tight-lipped smile and nodded slowly.
Marry him? That was never going to happen.
Looking at him now, all I felt was exhaustion. His smile didn’t reach his eyes anymore, but maybe it never had.
Then his phone rang. His expression shifted subtly, a flicker of irritation before he masked it with a grin.
"It’s from your family," he muttered, answering the call.
The voice on the other end was sharp, commanding. No warmth, no courtesy. "Today is the meeting between our families to finalize the wedding details. You need to be there."
A statement, not a request.
I clenched my jaw. Of course, they wouldn’t ask. They never did.
Dave hung up and gave me a look that was half-apology, half-dismissal. "We need to go."
I didn’t argue. Not because I agreed, but because I was tired of pretending that my opinion mattered to anyone in that family.
The restaurant they chose was nestled in the park, styled exactly how Clara liked it. Floral arrangements in soft pink hues, delicate lace tablecloths—it was her taste woven into every detail. It was supposed to be my engagement gathering, but Clara sat comfortably in the seat of honor, draped in a crimson cloak that shimmered against her pale skin.
Dave's parents practically hovered around her, fawning like she was already part of the family. I stood at the edge of it all, like an outsider crashing someone else’s celebration.
"Aria, if only you were as sweet and charming as Clara," Dave's mother sighed dramatically. "I always thought Dave should’ve ended up with someone like her. Such a blessing."
Her words slid off me like rain against stone. I’d heard them before, disguised in softer tones. Now they didn’t bother with disguises.
Clara leaned in, flashing a saccharine smile. "Oh, don’t say that. I’m sure Aria’s doing her best." She let out a soft, tinkling laugh. "But don’t worry, I’ll take care of her. That’s what sisters are for, right?"
Her voice dripped with honey, but the venom underneath was unmistakable.
Dave chuckled along, eyes lingering too long on her face. Not once did he glance at me.
I stared at them—at all of them—and felt nothing. Not anger, not sadness. Just a hollow, widening emptiness.
Once, Dave would have noticed my discomfort. Once, he would’ve found an excuse for us to leave early. Now he barely acknowledged I was there.
The air was stifling. I barely touched my drink, my appetite long gone.
Then, as if the universe mirrored my mood, rain began to pour outside.
Clara stood gracefully, her gown flowing like liquid fire, and Dave was immediately at her side. Without hesitation, he draped his jacket over her shoulders, shielding her from the cold.
He didn’t even glance at me.
I watched them walk into the rain together, his arm around her waist, their heads close in quiet conversation.
It was a gutting realization.
They weren’t hiding anymore.
They didn’t need to.
The rest of the family filed out, laughing under umbrellas. I stood there alone, the soft hum of the restaurant fading around me.
But this time, I didn’t cry.
No.
I was past tears.
Let them have their moment. Let them bask in their stolen happiness.
Because soon, I would be gone.
And when the moon rose again, the girl they thought they could break would be nothing but a shadow on the wind.
Let the storm come.
I would be ready.
