Estelle D'Mirra
Kaelen walks ahead without looking back. The faint scent of cedar and smoke oozing out of him makes me want to bury my face into his neck and breathe him in, to search for the comfort I so desperately need from him right now.
I want him to hold me.
I want him to tell me that he wants me and no one else, that all the whispers, all the doubts, and the silences mean nothing. That I'm still enough.
Pathetic, I know.
But I love him. I want him. I need him.
I can't imagine a life without my alpha, my Kaelen.
I'm worrying for nothing, I know he would never cast me away, he could never do that to me.
Kaelen stops near the hearth. The embers are low, barely alive, flickering with a dying glow. His hand brushes over the manel, the gesture absent, as though he's searching for something to steady himself on.
I stay by the doorway, afraid that moving closer might strike his nerve, I don't want him to get angry at me right now.
A sigh leaves his lips,"You heard us," he says finally.
My stomach tightens. "What?"
Kaelen turns slightly, the amber light from the heart illuminating the side of his face. "Don't lie to me, Estelle. I can smell your fear from the door."
A voice in my head whispers that he knows me too well, but if he truly did, he would've known better than to stay silent while his mother rained humiliation upon me. He would've stopped her. He would never have let her drag my name through the dirt without any remorse
My lips part, but no sound comes out. I could deny his statement, pretend I'd only gone out for air, that I hadn't stood behind that door and listened to my mother-in-law slice me open word by word. But I can't.
The truth hangs in the air between us, too thick to swallow.
"I didn't mean to." The words fall weak out of my lips, trembling. "I was just—passing by. Then I heard her. I couldn't—"
His jaw flexes. "You shouldn't have."
The sting of his words is sharper than I expect.
"So I should've stayed blind to what she thinks of me? Of what you let her say?" I'm asking before I can get a hold of my loose tongue.
He flinches almost imperceptibly, warm brown eyes rounding, "You don't understand, Estelle."
"I don't understand?" My voice rises against my will. "Your mother called me barren, Kael. Said I was a disgrace to this pack. And you just stood there, tongue tied."
With a tired huff he turns, raking a hand through his wavy black hair, eyes finding mine. For a moment, I almost wish he'd shout, lose his control, anything but look at me with that muted exhaustion that hurts me more than his anger ever could.
"What would you have me say, Elle?" he asks quietly. "That she's wrong?"
My breath catches. What?
He takes a step closer, voice low but steady. "I've defended you more times than you know, Estelle. To the council. To my mother. To myself. But every season passes, and nothing changes. How long am I supposed to ignore it?"
His words slice clean through me, my omega curling in on itself in pure shame.
"You think I don't want this?" I'm no longer yelling, my voice is nothing more than a mere whisper, disbelief and hurt bleeding through my tone. "You think I haven't prayed until my knees bled?"
He shuts his eyes briefly, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "I know. But this pack doesn't care for prayers. They care for heirs."
"And what about you?"
He doesn't answer.
"What about you, Alpha? What do you care for?" I sound desperate just as much as I feel, and I do not care.
But my husband just stands there, just like he did a few moments ago before his mother, tongue tied. No words to offer. Nothing. Nothing to soothe my worries.
The silence stretches again, thick as fog. I take a small, trembling step forward, my voice softer now. "Tell me, Alpha, if she hadn't spoken tonight, how long before you did?"
His gaze lifts to mine, and the truth there is worse than any lie his mind can web.
My heart breaks inside my chest, it feels too real to not be real. Tears spring to my eyes, turning Kaelen into a smudge of watercolor.
Why Moon?
Why must you deem me so unworthy of love and joy?
Why must you want me to suffer?
Why must you not let me be a mother?
Kaelen cuts his gaze away from me as if it hurts him to look at me. "You should rest," he murmurs. "It's late."
"Rest?" I almost laugh, but it comes out broken and wet with tears. "How am I supposed to rest knowing you're already thinking about replacing me?"
"Enough." He snaps, tone sharpening, the Alpha bleeding through. "Don't twist my words."
"I don't have to," I whisper. "They twist themselves."
He turns from me, hastily rubbing his hand over his forehead and exhaling hard. "You're exhausted. Go to bed, Estelle. Please."
That single word — please — sounds less like a request and more like a surrender.
I stand there for a long moment, staring at his back, at the man I thought I knew. The man who once promised me the moon would bless our love that even if the toughest of times came, he'd stay beside me through it all.
Now even the moon feels like she's watching from afar, cold and pitiless.
Without another word, I turn away. My steps are light, almost soundless as I climb the stairs, but every creak of the floorboard feels like a confession.
Barren.
Cursed.
A disgrace.
In our chamber, the bed waits, cold and untouched, perfectly made, mocking me with its emptiness. I sit at the edge, fingers trembling as I untie the shawl still clutched around me. It slips from my shoulders and falls soundlessly to the floor.
The night stretches long and merciless.
And somewhere below, I hear the faint crack of wood in the hearth — a sound of something breaking.
Maybe it's the fire.
Or maybe it's just us.