My Cousin's Wife Despises on Me

I was still floating on the high of being chosen for the delegation when the conversation shifted. The house was buzzing with warmth, laughter, and excitement, all centered around Bridget’s pregnancy. It was impossible not to get caught up in it—Aunt Becca was already planning baby clothes, Uncle Cael was grinning from ear to ear, and even Calixto, who was usually so composed, looked like a kid on Yule morning.

I was genuinely happy for them. Pups brought joy to a pack, and I could already imagine the tiny feet running around the townhouse, the scent of fresh-baked cookies Aunt Becca would make for the little one, and the endless cuddles that would make even the grumpiest of wolves smile.

Still, I couldn’t shake the bittersweet feeling gnawing at my chest. I’d barely gotten a “Congratulations” before the whole mood had shifted to Bridget’s news, and now it felt like I was a guest in my own home. But I pushed that feeling down. It wasn’t worth making a fuss. I could share the spotlight for a day.

“Hey, Lu,” Bridget’s voice broke through my thoughts. I looked up from my cup of tea, catching her eye. She was fidgeting, her hands playing with the edge of her shirt, and that was never a good sign. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something...”

My wolf, Rhea, immediately perked up, her ears metaphorically twitching. “Careful, Lu. Something’s off,” she warned, a low growl rumbling in the back of my mind.

“What’s up?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

Bridget glanced at Calixto, who gave her a small nod of encouragement. She took a breath, then spoke, “Since you’re going to be away with the delegation, and we’re expecting… we thought it might be a good idea if… well, if you moved out of the townhouse.”

For a moment, I just stared at her, convinced I’d misheard. Move out? The words echoed in my head, but they didn’t make any sense. “What?” I asked, my voice sounding hollow even to myself.

“You know,” Bridget continued, her tone cautious, like she was trying not to spook me. “With the baby coming, we need the extra space, and you’re going to be gone for who knows how long. It just makes sense, right?”

The room fell silent, everyone waiting for my reaction. I glanced around, hoping to see Aunt Becca or Uncle Cael looking as stunned as I felt, but they were both carefully avoiding my gaze. Uncle Cael was staring at his coffee cup, and Aunt Becca was fidgeting with her wedding ring, her usual bright eyes dimmed.

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “I’m… sorry, I don’t think I understand,” I said, forcing a laugh that came out too sharp. “You want me to leave… my home?”

“It’s not like that, Luann,” Calixto said, his voice gentle, but I could hear the edge of something else there—guilt, maybe. “You’re going to be with the delegation, and Bridget and I… we need the space. It’s just practical.”

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms to keep from snapping. Practical? I had offered them the attic when they needed a place, a warm, spacious area where they could have their own privacy, and now they were talking about my home like it was just another room in their nest.

“They want us gone,” Rhea snarled, her hackles raised. “After everything we’ve done for them.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “I get that you’re excited about the baby, and I’m thrilled for you, I really am. But...” I looked at Aunt Becca and Uncle Cael, silently pleading for them to back me up. “Is this what you want too?”

Aunt Becca’s lips trembled, and for a moment, I thought she might say something—anything—to defend me. But then she looked down, and my heart sank. “It’s just… Bridget is right, sweetie,” she said softly. “It would be more comfortable for them with the baby on the way. And you’re going to have your own things to focus on with the Black Tears Pack.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Comfortable?” I repeated, the word bitter on my tongue. “What about my comfort?”

My voice cracked, and I hated myself for it, for sounding so weak when I wanted to be strong. I didn’t want to cry in front of them, didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing how deeply they’d cut me.

Bridget stepped closer, her expression annoyingly sympathetic. “Just move out, Luann,” she said, and I almost laughed at how false it sounded. “You can’t freeload here forever.”

And when did I become a freeloader in my own property? Did she not know?