After I gave up the entire family, they regretted it

I handed him to the pack nanny and rode off without looking back.

When I returned to the territory, exhaustion clinging to my bones, the first thing I saw was my old harp lying in the grass outside the lodge, abandoned like refuse.

Inside, Arthur stood near the doorway, hauling in several heavy travel chests.

“Mother,” he said flatly, not meeting my eyes, “Aunt Tessa will be staying with us for a time. She dislikes noise, so I cleared out your music room and turned it into a carving chamber for her.”

I looked at him, truly looked.

In that moment, I understood that I no longer belonged here. I was not family, not welcome. I was only a remnant, something unsightly left behind, lingering where it should not.

That harp had been Arthur’s gift to me on his eighth naming day. He had traded away all his winter tokens for it.

He used to sit beside me in the sunlit room, small fingers brushing the strings, laughing as he leaned against my arm and said, “I love Mother the most.”

That child was gone.

I swallowed the pain rising in my chest and forced a thin smile.

“So this is how you treat your mother now.”

Unease flickered across his face, brief and awkward. Before he could answer, soft footsteps approached.

Gerald stepped into the yard with Tessa beside him. His expression mirrored Arthur’s, distant and cold as he looked straight at me.

“Tessa fears the dark,” he said. “Your chamber receives the most sunlight. Move out and let her take it.”

I lowered my eyes and nodded.

“Alright. I will clear my things.”

They had expected resistance. Tears, perhaps. My calm acceptance unsettled him, and surprise tightened his features.

“Victoria…”

“Oh, you are so kind,” Tessa said quickly, smiling sweetly. “Let us live peacefully together during this time.”

I did not respond. I turned and went upstairs.

In the chamber, I dragged out one heavy pack after another. Each item carried years of quiet endurance, of giving without return.

When I tossed three decades of memories into the refuse cart, Gerald followed me out, frowning.

“Why are you discarding so much?”

“Things I no longer need.”

He hesitated, then reached into one pack and froze.

“These are the gifts I gave you.”

I smiled faintly.

“Old things should have been thrown away long ago.”

His jaw tightened.

“You used to treasure them.”

Yes. Once, anything from him had made me glow with foolish joy. I had sworn to keep each gift forever.

But forever was too heavy for a heart worn thin by betrayal.

I passed him without stopping.

“There is someone new in the lodge now,” I said quietly. “You never liked crowds.”

He seemed about to explain that Tessa’s stay was temporary, but I was already loading the last pack onto my mount.

He exhaled sharply.

“There is a feast tonight. You have not attended one in years. Come along with Tessa.”

He had not brought me to a gathering in a long time. Not since my body changed, not since I no longer suited his image.

At the feast, Gerald and Tessa dismounted first.

The host greeted them warmly. “Alpha Mortimer, your mate is as radiant as ever.”

Gerald did not correct him. He took Tessa’s hand naturally.

“Thank you.”

“And this lady is…?”

Only then did he glance at me, briefly, before looking away.

“Our aide.”

I stood still.

Though I expected it, the words still tore through me.

I lifted my chin and entered the feast hall with what dignity I had left.

Tessa clung to Gerald’s arm as they moved through the firelit gathering, graceful and inseparable, like a true bonded pair.

I remained apart, watching as though from another world.

Then, without warning, a sharp pain ripped through my injured right calf, burning and sudden, stealing the breath from my lungs.