AFTER BETRAYAL, I MARRIED MY MATE’S UNCLE

Chapter 2- Memories

Growing up, Owen and I had always known we were meant for each other.

We’d been childhood sweethearts, a bond that had only strengthened over time. Our families were close, both in pack and business.

My father was the Alpha of Crystal Pack and the CEO of Crystal Conglomerate, while Owen’s father led Jostum Pack and ran Jostum Conglomerate.

For as long as I could remember, our marriage had been planned, destined. We understood the expectations, so we had always been careful, respectful, and distant with the opposite sex.

Yet Reginald had changed everything.

It had all started with a simple act of compassion.

I’d first met her when she was little more than a bundle of bones, her appearance pale and malnourished compared to her peers.

I had met her at a charity event held by the company. She had this kind of sweetness about her, a charm that endeared her to everyone she met. I’d felt drawn to her in a way I couldn’t quite explain, and I wanted to lift her out of her hardships.

But I didn’t have the resources to help her on my own, so I turned to Owen.

At first, he balked at the idea. Feeling that it was a waste of money, time and resources.

“I don’t have time to play these house games with you,” he’d scoffed.

I’d dropped the topic, feeling disappointed but not entirely surprised by his response. I still hoped I could help her and planned to do it in my own little way.

And then I was in a car accident.

I didn’t remember much from that time; only the blurred faces of nurses and doctors, the sterile smell of antiseptics, and the muffled voices of my parents.

But what I heard afterward was that Owen had gone to extraordinary lengths for me. He’d made desperate pleas to the universe, praying at temples and shrines, places he normally dismissed as nonsense.

Driven by his guilt, he’d even turned back to Reginald, supporting her in the name of accumulating virtue, hoping his good deeds might bring me back to him.

Remarkably, I did pull through. Within days, my condition had stabilized, and I was finally allowed home to recover. He’d come to visit me in the hospital, bringing a shy smile and a bouquet.

I remembered his words, laced with humor but sincere: “It seems Reginald has become your benefactor, Carly. You owe her.” He had laughed, and so had I, seeing it as nothing more than a joke.

But I had taken it to heart. From that day on, I treated Reginald like a sister. I shared what I had with her, from clothes to opportunities, lifting her up whenever I could. She became a part of my life, someone I trusted implicitly.

Or so I thought.

When I looked back, the warning signs were all there, but I’d ignored them.

She had crept into my life like a silent predator, building her nest in the quiet spaces I had opened to her.

I could feel that something had shifted between Owen and me, something neither of us wanted to admit.

Even as I sat across from him now, his eyes meeting mine with a hint of guilt, I could feel the tension that had grown between us, the silent friction.

As the memories of her subtle betrayals flooded back, I felt a sour taste at the back of my throat. I barely touched my food, poking at it listlessly until I finally set my spoon down. Owen noticed, his brow creasing as he asked, his voice filled with concern, “Is something wrong with the food?”

I looked down at the table, catching sight of the multiple chili-laden dishes scattered around. Owen knew I couldn’t handle spicy food. Yet it felt oddly symbolic of my situation now—overlooked, pushed to the side.

“Is the food not to your liking?” he asked, noticing I’d barely touched my plate.

I lifted my head to find him already realizing his mistake. His expression softened with regret.

“I’m sorry, Carly. I forgot you can’t eat spicy food,” he murmured, his tone apologetic.

Taking a breath, I readied myself to finally bring up what had been on my mind. The words were about to leave my lips when a familiar honeyed voice broke through the silence. The lilting voice floated from the doorway, one that sent a prickle of discomfort down my spine.

“Owen!”

I looked up, spotting Reginald at the door, her figure framed by a flowing white dress that accentuated her slender frame.

Her face lit up with a sweet smile, her eyes finding Owen before landing on me. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, but she quickly replaced it with a friendly, if not slightly forced, grin. “Oh, Carly’s here too.”

Her smile, though practiced, had a strained quality to it when directed at me. There was a subtle note of indifference, something I might have mistaken for mere shyness once. Now, it felt like an insult.

I watched her, saying nothing.

Owen, on the other hand, sighed and gave her a disapproving look. “Reginald, have you ever thought about knocking before entering?”

The irritation in Owen’s voice would have seemed real if I didn’t know about their affair.

She just laughed, waving off his irritation as if it were an endearing flaw of his. “Oh, I forgot! I’ll remember next time.” Then, glancing back at me with her usual charm, she added, “Mind if I join you for lunch, Carly? I’m starving after class.”

But her gaze remained fixed on Owen, as though my presence was merely a formality.

Owen didn’t wait for me to respond. “Of course, sit down if you’re hungry. There’s plenty here, and if you want more, order whatever you like.” His tone was easy, but his eyes flickered toward me, catching my expression.

Reginald took a seat to his right, smiling brightly as if this were all her right. “No need, Owen,” she said, giving him a warm look. “You’ve already ordered all my favorites.”

Owen’s expression faltered, his eyes snapped up to meet mine. For a second, he looked uneasy, almost guilty. I kept my face carefully blank, though inside, I could feel a bitter warmth pooling.

“Yes, do eat,” I said, gesturing to the spread. “Enjoy it all.”

Owen’s face softened slightly, though there was a question in his eyes, a silent plea to say something. But I stayed silent, unable to force the words out.

“Carly, if you want anything else, feel free to order,” he offered, passing me the menu, his eyes searching mine.

I took the menu and forced a smile, though I knew it didn’t reach my eyes. “No, I think I’ll pass. I don’t have much of an appetite. Saw something this morning that completely put me off food.”

He frowned, the concern back on his face. “What was it?”

I kept my tone light, but every word felt like a needle as I continued. “Oh, just a friend of mine. Her boyfriend’s been cheating on her with a lady that has some sexually transmitted disease and unfortunately, he got it and is currently in the hospital.

My friend sent a picture of his groin area, and it was gross.”

I watched Owen’s face as I spoke. His expression tightened, the guilt flashing like a flare behind his eyes. I held his gaze, unwavering, letting the silence stretch between us.

“People like that... they don’t deserve to be buried,” I finished softly. “Don’t you agree, Owen?”

He swallowed, looking cornered. His response came hesitantly. “Yes... yes, of course.”