After Bellamy left, Carson still stared at her retreating figure, lost in his own thoughts.
It took a long time before the chill in my chest from the cold wind finally settled.
Only then did Carson close the door and slowly walk back into the room.
"Bellamy’s always been delicate. I shouldn’t have asked her to come see you. It must have been hard for her."
Anyone with a sense of smell could tell that Bellamy’s scent was vibrant, filled with the freshness of her recent successes.
Meanwhile, I—his mate—had just fallen into the icy river, was still recovering from the cold, and was now carrying our child. My scent was weak, my aura dull.
But he chose to ignore it.
No, it wasn’t that he couldn’t sense it. It was that his attention was only drawn to Bellamy. There was no room for anyone else.
"Alpha," I began, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest, "we’ve been mated for seven years. This is my first pregnancy. Does your mother know?"
Carson fidgeted with the bracelet on my wrist, his gaze avoiding mine.
"Mother’s getting older. We can tell her when you’re feeling better. It’s not urgent."
Of course. He was so certain this child wouldn’t survive that he didn’t even think it necessary to inform his own mother.
But all these years, the shame and judgment I’ve endured for not bearing a child—did he truly not sense any of it?
Carson’s scent shifted, uneasy, as if he was trying to figure out how to convince me.
I forced a smile, though bitterness swelled inside me.
"Then I’ll leave it to you, Alpha."
His scent brightened instantly, oblivious to the pain hidden beneath my calm expression.
"Rest well, Jaliyah. I’ll be in my study."
As I watched his retreating figure, I repeated to myself like a mantra:
If I don’t care, it won’t hurt.
But deep down, I knew the truth.
The pain was already there, etched into my soul, and no amount of pretending could make it disappear.
