Letting My Mate Have a Taste of His Own Medicine

Harper's POV

Novaria’s timid expression painted me as the villain in this twisted play. I could see it in the way she looked at me as if I were the unreasonable one.

“How could I possibly be angry?” I replied, my voice smooth and controlled, masking the storm inside. “Please, enjoy your meal. I just remembered I have some unfinished work to take care of.”

With a serene smile, I picked up my bag, making a move to leave.

“Come on, are you still upset about Otis giving Nova a cake?” Jovan’s voice cut through the air, dripping with deliberate provocation. His gaze met mine, challenging, almost daring me to react.

So, Otis had shared that with them, had he?

As if on cue, Novaria chimed in, her voice dripping with false sincerity. “I’m sorry, Harper. I was just feeling down, and Otis was trying to cheer me up. Otis, you should apologize to Harper.”

Otis frowned, clearly annoyed. “I just gave you a cake, Nova. Why should I apologize?”

His words sent a chill through the room, freezing the atmosphere in an instant. Novaria smiled subtly, a gesture that didn’t escape my notice. It was a silent declaration, a claim on what she believed was hers.

It was almost laughable—the person who had wronged me had no idea he was in the wrong. Otis never realized his own faults, just like before. He believed he could smooth things over with a few empty words, that I would simply let it slide and move on.

I returned his gaze with a smile. “Yes, you’re right. Keep it up next time.”

Without another word, I turned and left, not bothering to look back.

As I walked away, I overheard Novaria’s voice, laced with mock concern. “Otis, go apologize quickly. Harper is obviously angry.”

“Don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine in a few days.” His words cut through me like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.

What had I done to make him so confident that I would always come back, no matter how many times he hurt me?

I continued walking, my steps slow and heavy, the cool breeze of the early autumn night doing little to ease the suffocation I felt inside. The streets were bustling with life, mates walking hand in hand, their laughter and affection genuine and enviable.

Once upon a time, Otis and I were just like them, inseparable, holding onto each other as if our lives depended on it. But now, all that was left were memories, fading like the warmth of summer as the chill of autumn set in.

My breath hitched, the weight of it all pressing down on me. I caught sight of a skewer stall and, on impulse, decided to buy one. The smell of grilled meat used to comfort me, but as I took a bite, the taste was overwhelming—far too salty.

“This skewer tastes off,” I mumbled to the vendor, my voice trembling with unspoken emotions.

The vendor looked at me, sympathy in his eyes, and handed me a tissue. “Miss, maybe you should wipe your tears first.”

I blinked, realizing that my vision was blurred, my tears silently falling onto the skewer, making it unbearably salty. No wonder it tasted so wrong.

I sniffed, wiping my eyes, and turned away, heading home with a heavy heart.

As soon as I walked through the door, my phone buzzed with a message from Otis:

Otis: [Why am I blocked on our mindlink? Anyway, have you arrived home?]

I stared at the screen, my heart aching, but I didn’t reply. Another message came through moments later:

Otis: [Everyone didn't enjoy the meal because of you today. Let's invite them to dinner another day.]

Still, I remained silent, my fingers hovering over the screen before I set the phone down.

Minutes passed before my phone rang, Otis’s name flashing across the screen. I let it ring, ignoring the call, letting the sound echo in the quiet of my home.

By the time I returned from washing up, the phone was silent, as if it had given up on trying to reach me.