Reborn to Escape My Mate Who Watched Me Die

When I woke, I was in my bedroom, every bone feeling like it'd been crushed and pieced back together. My skin burned, raw and aching. The mirror showed a ghost of myself-pale, blood crusted at my lips, bruises blooming across my arms. All of it, a gift from Nicholas.

It took two days before I could even stand. On the third, I started packing. Just essentials and documents-everything else, steeped in memories, I left behind.

Halfway through, the door swung open. Nicholas was back, Kayla at his side.

"What are you packing?" he asked, eyeing my suitcase with a frown.

I kept my back to him, voice steady. "Just clearing out old clothes."

He didn't seem to consider I'd ever leave. Without pressing, he said, "You were wrong about what happened. Kayla's not holding it against you, but you can't treat her like that."

He paused, then ordered, "Go make her a meal. It's the least you owe her for an apology."

My fingers dug into my palms. He'd had me beaten half to death, and now he wanted me to cook for her?

When I didn't move, his frown deepened. "Didn't you promise to take care of her?"

He stepped closer, his tone softening, almost coaxing. "Come on, no one's making a big deal out of this. It's just a meal. Don't make it a thing."

I looked up at him, his familiar face now so foreign, and felt a bone-deep weariness. I knew he wouldn't let this go.

So I turned and went to the kitchen.

As I chopped vegetables, memories crept in. Nicholas used to pamper me, never letting me lift a finger. Once, I tried cooking to surprise him and nicked my finger. His eyes had welled up, and he held me for hours, swearing I'd never touch a knife again. That warmth felt like a lifetime ago, replaced by a cold, sharp reality.

What would that Nicholas think of the wolf he'd become?

Three hours later, the meal was ready. I carried the final dish-a steaming bowl of soup-to the dining room. As I set it down, Kayla's foot "accidentally" shot out.

"Ah!"

The bowl crashed, and I hit the floor, scalding soup splashing across my arms and chest. Blisters rose instantly, the pain so intense my vision darkened.

Nicholas's first move was to shield Kayla. "Kayla!" he said, checking her hands frantically. "Did it burn you?"

Tears welled in her eyes. "Just a little..."

"I'll get you some ointment." He didn't spare me a glance, just wrapped an arm around her and headed out.

I knelt in the spilled soup, my skin screaming from the burns. I watched him guide Kayla upstairs, so careful, so protective. I remembered when I had a fever, how he'd stay up all night, wincing every time I so much as frowned.

How quickly a heart can change.

Gritting my teeth, I dragged myself to the bathroom, rinsing the burns with cold water and struggling to apply ointment. Halfway through, the door opened.

Nicholas stood there, his brow furrowing at my injuries. "Why didn't you say you were hurt this bad?"

I tied my shirt closed, voice calm. "You were busy with Kayla. I didn't want to interrupt."

He froze for a moment, then stepped forward, grabbing the ointment. "Let me help."

"No need." I sidestepped him. "I've got it."

He studied me, his expression unreadable. "You've... changed lately."

I gave a faint smile. "Have I?"

Yeah, I've changed.

Changed enough to stop aching for him.

Changed enough to stop loving him.