The End After Ten Years of Pain

Debbie's POV

I had already packed the essentials into my travel bag. It wasn’t a lot—just what I would need moving forward. I deliberately left behind all the clothes and jewelry Darrell had gifted me. I didn’t want to carry any remnants of him with me—neither his scent, his material tokens, nor the hollow promises that once warmed my heart but now made me feel sick.

My departure was set for five days from now. That gave me a small window—just enough time to bid farewell to the ones who truly mattered to me, especially the children.

I glanced once more at the collection of letters he had written to me before everything between us crumbled. At one time, those letters held meaning. Now? They were nothing but beautifully crafted lies etched in ink. Promises that were made only to be broken—something Darrell had become very good at.

One by one, I ripped the letters apart. The tearing sound brought a strange sense of satisfaction, as if each shred was lifting a burden off my chest. I was nearing the last few when his voice pierced the air—sharp, loud, and rattled with panic.

“What are you doing, Debbie?!”

I turned, startled, as he stormed into the room, his eyes darting between the torn fragments in my hands and those already thrown into the waste bin. He lunged forward, grabbing the letter I held and digging through the trash for the others, his face twisted in both disbelief and frustration.

“Why did you destroy them?” he demanded, his voice cracking with emotion as he stared at the shredded papers like they were sacred relics. “Is this because of Carla? Don’t they mean anything to you anymore? I wrote those for us—for our love, our memories, Debbie!”

His fingers trembled as he tried to piece the torn papers together, desperation in every movement. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“Say something, Debbie!” he yelled, seizing my arms and forcing me to meet his gaze. “Why can’t you just understand? You and your jealousy are ruining everything!”

I stared into his striking blue eyes, my expression calm, my voice composed. “You’ve got it all wrong, Alpha. I’m not jealous,” I said steadily. “The letters were damaged—bookworms had gotten to them. They were full of holes, falling apart. There was nothing left worth saving.”

That was partly true. Some letters were indeed ruined, but the real reason I didn’t preserve them was that I no longer cared to.

He looked again at the torn pieces in his hands, the fury in his expression softening into reluctant acceptance. “You could’ve let me deal with it,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his already messy hair. “I could’ve saved them. Tearing them up... it’s like you’re ripping apart everything we’ve built.”

“Some things can’t be fixed, Darrell,” I responded softly, forcing a faint smile. “Sometimes, you have to release the past to find peace.”

He let out a breath, eyes still lingering on the destroyed letters with lingering regret. “I can write new ones,” he whispered, almost to himself. “I’m sorry if I overreacted. I just thought we’d read them again at our wedding.”

Wedding. The word struck me like a slap. It tasted bitter, like a lie I had once convinced myself was sweet.

I remained silent, and he noticed. He reached up and cradled my face with a tender hand, his touch warm against my skin. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice threaded with concern. “I know I haven’t been around much. Carla needed my protection. She almost got taken by rogues from a rival pack. I won’t let her be in danger again. But you’re the only one I love, Debbie. You’re the one I want to marry. Surely, you know that?”

I nodded. What else could I do? It was what he wanted to hear.

He leaned in, kissing me gently—just a brush of lips against mine before pulling away. “Tell me, Debbie,” he murmured softly, “how can I make this right?”

I looked away from him and slipped out of his grasp. “I want a celebration,” I said, my voice light and almost playful.

“A celebration?” he repeated, an amused smile forming. “You and your love for parties and dancing. When would you like it?”

He didn’t realize the truth. I had never enjoyed those things. I only acted like I did because he loved them. I wanted to be part of his world, to belong there. But even after all that, it was never enough. My chest tightened with that sad realization.

“Tomorrow night,” I told him, stretching my lips into a smile. “And I want you to dance with me.”

His grin faltered briefly, but he gave a small nod. “If that’s what will make you happy, then I’ll be there. We’ll dance, just like old times—a night to remember.”

I wanted to believe him. I really did.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, lingering a beat longer than usual. “Oh, before I forget,” he added hesitantly, not quite meeting my eyes, “I won’t be staying tonight. Something urgent came up in Werewolf City. But I’ll be back before the celebration, I promise.”

Of course he wouldn’t be staying. The whispers around the pack had already reached my ears—he was taking Carla with him. The two of them were headed to the capital together.

I forced myself to sound cheerful. “Take care, Alpha,” I said, masking my heartbreak behind a carefully composed tone. “And don’t forget about tomorrow night’s celebration.”