2- How Could You
1578 Words
I stared at him like a deer in headlights.
“Kaelith will have access to our bank loan programs and deeper routes into our territory’s financial sectors,” he added casually, as if he wasn’t talking about my life. “And we’ll gain royal protection and investment support in return.”
I blinked.
“What,” I said flatly. “I…wait…what?!”
I wasn’t sure I’d heard right. Maybe the chandelier above had warped my father’s voice.
Maybe I was hallucinating from hunger, or stress, or the fact that Kaelith Draven was sitting at our table like this was a damn auction.
“Mira—”
“No.” I laughed. Just once. No joy in it. “You’re not serious.”
My father didn’t flinch. “I’m very serious.”
“You’re marrying me off to him?” I gestured toward Kaelith, whose face didn’t move an inch. “Without telling me?”
“You’ve been told now,” he said.
I pushed back my chair. It scraped loudly against the polished floor.
“I’m not doing this.”
My mother sighed sharply through her nose. “Lower your voice.”
“I’m not doing this,” I repeated, louder this time. “You can’t just—sell me.”
Kaelith raised a brow, fingers slowly circling the rim of his wine glass. “Actually he can. He is your father and the alpha. He has every right to.”
I sneered, “I suppose you would say it. it matches your personality, a man who buys wives like property.”
Everyone froze.
My mother’s fork clinked loudly against her plate. I was raised to be an obedient child, never talking back.
But when it comes to my life, I would not be sent off to Lycan territory. They hated us.
They would have me dead in a week.
Kaelith’s lips curled into something that could’ve been a smile or a warning.
“At least you’re not boring,” he said calmly.
My blood boiled. I stood abruptly.
“No. No, you don’t get to sit there and act like I’m some prize in a box. I already have someone. Someone I love. Someone who doesn’t look at me like I’m a transaction. Evelyne can marry for love but I can't?! Why am I the only daughter being sold!”
“You’ll regret raising your voice in this house,” my mother snapped.
I turned to her, still shaking. “You think I care about your decorum right now?”
“You’re embarrassing yourself and us.”
“Good,” I snapped. “I hope it burns.”
My father’s chair creaked as he leaned forward, folding his hands like he was closing a business deal.
“Kaelith agreed to this marriage out of mercy, Mira. Don’t flatter yourself.”
The words hit harder than I expected. He looked at me like I was a burden. An obstacle to be cleared off the board. Nothing more.
“Without this agreement,” he continued, “our company loses a foothold in royal banking. We lose investment ties with the Draven family. Everything we’ve built could—”
“Could what?” I bit out. “Collapse? Because your daughter didn’t marry the man you picked out like a handbag?”
“You’re acting emotional,” my mother said, voice clipped. “Which is why these decisions are made for you.”
I stared at her.
“You let me walk in here like this was a normal dinner. You didn’t even tell me. You just—”
“You never think of the bigger picture,” she said, shaking her head. “Not like your sister.”
There it was.
I clenched my jaw. “Of course.”
“She would’ve sat down, smiled, and made the most of it. Evelyne understands duty. Evelyne knows what sacrifice means.”
“She’s not the one you’re selling.”
“Stop being dramatic.”
I laughed. This one was uglier.
Harsher. My chest tightened so hard it physically hurt.
“I’m done,” I said, grabbing my clutch. “I’m not doing this.”
“Mira…I would take it that you are high on emotions. You have a day to return to his house and prepare to become the wife of Alpha King Kaelith.”
I didn't answer him. He can disown me for all I care but I am not risking my life and going to Lycan territory. It's never going to happen.
“You’ll regret walking out.”
I looked Kaelith in the eyes.
“I doubt it.”
I turned and walked away before I could hear what anyone else said.
****
The car ride blurred around me. My eyes stung. My hands were shaking. The flats I wore dug into my feet, but I didn’t stop pressing hard against the pedal. I angrily wiped my tears, smearing mascara across my cheeks.
The roads were mostly empty, the sky going dark too fast. My chest felt like it had been hollowed out and filled with something sharp and cold. I wiped again, angrily at my eyes with the back of my hand. I wasn’t going to cry.
But I was crying anyway.
I pulled into the driveway of the house I shared with Callum. He gave me a key the day we moved in.
Said I could come by whenever, that this place was mine too. That no matter how loud the world got, I’d always have a home here.
I let myself in.
The living room was dim, lit only by the lamp in the corner—the same one that always buzzed faintly when it warmed up.
The couch was still a little crooked, the bookshelf still crammed with too many books and half-folded blankets. It smelled like detergent and old wood.
It made it safe and homely.
“Callum?” I called. My voice cracked. “It’s me.”
No response.
I stepped out of my shoes, padding across the wood floor like I had a hundred times before.
My fingers traced the back of the couch. A few throw pillows were on the floor. A water bottle. A sock.
Normal house mess.
I moved toward the hallway. I didn’t want to wake him if he was sleeping, but something felt off.
The door to the bedroom was cracked slightly open.
“Callum?” I whispered again, fingers gently nudging the door wider.
And then I heard it.
“Harder.”
“Don’t stop—right there—”
My body stilled.
For a moment, I thought maybe I misheard. That my brain was playing tricks. But then the headboard knocked softly against the wall again, and something cold swept through my chest.
I pushed the door open with my palm, slowly, like my bones had forgotten how to move.
The room smelled warm—familiar.
That faint citrus scent I used to love on his sheets. The lamplight glowed low in the corner, casting shadows across the rumpled bed.
She sat up first, the girl. Young. Messy hair. Skin flushed from more than embarrassment. She yanked the blanket over her chest, wide-eyed, frozen like a deer caught in headlights.
My gaze didn’t stay on her long.
Callum turned just enough for me to see his face. His jaw clenched. His eyes didn’t meet mine.
Like looking at me would make this real. Like he already knew I’d come back and regretted nothing.
I took a step in, not trusting my voice. My fingers curled into my palm, and I blinked once, twice—too fast.
The room was quiet now, except for the sound of my heartbeat, loud and steady like it wanted me to scream.
He sat on the edge of the bed, the sheet around his hips, still catching his breath. His back was damp. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t rush to explain.
He didn’t even apologize.
My voice finally found its way through the numbness. It came out small, hoarse. “I just talked down on my family for you.”
He didn’t answer right away. His thumb rubbed over his knee like that meant something. Then, low, almost bored, he said, “I didn’t ask you to.”
My stomach twisted. Heat rushed up my face, not from shame but fury. Something inside me cracked. I felt it—like a bone that had been bent too far, finally snapping.
“You didn’t ask me to,” I repeated, quieter this time. Not a question. Just disbelief. “I left everything for you. I gave you everything.”
He didn’t say a word.
The girl stayed silent too, her head ducked beneath the covers like that would make her vanish.
I stepped back, my fingers trembling now. Not from fear. Not from weakness. From how much I wanted to scream. To throw something.
To hit something. But I didn’t.
I looked at him one last time.
“Enjoy yourself,” I said, the words brittle on my tongue. “Go on. Keep f*****g her.”
My voice cracked on the last word. He didn’t move.
“I wish I never met you.”
The weight of it sat in my chest for half a second before I spat on the floor, turned around, and walked out. I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to.
The sound of the door closing behind me was the loudest thing I’d heard all night.
- Writer
