Chapter 5
2083 Words
Seraphine's POV
I didn’t sleep that night, or more accurately, I was unable to sleep that night. I unfortunately had no choice in the whole process.
I spent hours staring at the ceiling of Dani’s spare room, listening to the ocean through the cracked window while my mind decided to torture me with all the problems I was facing.
The quietness was nothing like back home, there were no rustling leaves, no distant wolves, no pack patrols changing shifts. Just endless waves rolling against the shore. I should have found it peaceful, I would have found it peaceful if my brain wouldn’t stop spinning.
I thought of every possible thing. Money, a job, housing, a doctor, the pregnancy, the fact that my entire life had gone to hell in less than a month. Such fun times.
I rolled onto my side and squinted my eyes to make out the figures on the clock.
3:07 am. Great.
At four o’clock, I was still wide awake.
Once it was five, I officially gave up on getting any sleep and sat upright.
The room was half filled with boxes containing everything I owned. My entire life had been reduced to two suitcases and several cardboard boxes. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying extremely hard to ignore the heavy weight I felt on my chest.
Four years of marriage, four whole years of trying. Gone. Four f*****g years of loving a man who had apparently never loved me enough. My eyes burned, but I blinked hard.
Nope, not tonight, not ever. I had cried more than enough. I needed to make practical decisions now.
I needed to find a doctor, register with the local territory, find work, figure out how I was going to raise a child alone.
My hand drifted unconsciously to my stomach. A child. My child. The only good thing I was taking away from Ironmoor.
A tiny smile tugged at my lips before disappearing. Eventually sunlight crept through the curtains. I hadn’t slept a single minute.
Dani took one look at my face the next morning and pointed at a chair. “Sit.”
I complied, not because she scared me, okay maybe a little because she scared me.
“Good.” She shoved a plate in front of me, eggs, toast and some fruit. Enough food for three people.
“Dani… I–”
“No.” She cut me off. I closed my mouth. “I wasn’t asking.”
Kevin snorted into his coffee. Dani pointed her fork at him. “You don’t get an opinion either.”
“I didn’t say anything.” He defended.
“You were about to.”
“I absolutely was.”
I stared at both of them for a second. Then, despite the giant mess my life currently was, a laugh escaped me. It was small and barely there, but it was a laugh.
Dani’s eyes lit up immediately. Which was embarrassing because now I felt like a wounded animal being rewarded for basic survival.
“Well would you look at that,” she said dramatically. “She still recognizes humor.”
She immediately launched into a ridiculous story about a tourist who tried to rent a fishing boat and somehow fell into the harbor before he even got on it. Kevin interrupted every few sentences to correct her. Dani ignored him, then corrected his correction, then accused him of lying and having the memory of a diseased goldfish. The whole conversation was absurd.
Neither of them mentioned Caden, or Ironmoor, or divorce, or heartbreak. They just talked. And halfway through breakfast, I realized what Dani was doing. She was giving me room to breathe. No questions or pity, no forced comfort, no demands for explanation. She was simply sitting beside me and refusing to let me drown in silence.
I didn’t thank her, I knew she’d hate that. But I appreciated it more than she would ever know.
That afternoon Kevin drove me to a human clinic on the edge of town. He never asked why I preferred a human doctor or tried to suggest a pack healer. He didn't question my decision.
The waiting room smelled of disinfectant and old coffee. I sat there bouncing my knee while mentally preparing myself for every horrible outcome imaginable.
By the time the doctor called me in, my stomach was in knots.
I sat through the examination with my hands clenched so tightly my nails bit into my palms. The doctor studied the screen for a few seconds before smiling.
“Well.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
She laughed softly. “Everything looks healthy.”
I released a shaky breath. “That’s not the surprising part.”
I frowned. “What surprising part?”
She turned the monitor toward me. “There are two.”
I stared at her. Maybe I’d heard wrong. “There are what?”
“Twins.”
The room went completely silent.
“Twins?” I repeated.
She nodded. “Both developing normally. Strong heartbeats. No concerns from what I can see.”
Twins.
Twins?
As in two babies?
The word refused to settle in my head. This… This was unexpected. I never even thought of the possibility.
I stared at the screen until my vision blurred. The doctor kept talking—information, dates, appointments, recommendations—but most of it dissolved into white noise.
Twins. Perfect.
Kevin was waiting outside when I came out. He stood up immediately. “Everything okay?”
I opened my mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “I’m having twins.”
He froze for three full seconds. I almost laughed. “Twins.”
“Apparently.”
Another pause. “Two babies.”
“That’s generally how twins work,” I said.
He stared at me, then laughed, mostly because he was completely overwhelmed. “Okay.”
I blinked. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” He opened the truck door. “Guess we’re going to need another room.”
I stared at him. “Kevin…”
He looked at me, steadily. “We’ll figure it out.”
He said it matter-of-factly. As though there had never been any other possible answer.
I quickly looked away before he noticed the tears gathering in my eyes.
Damn hormones.
That evening Dani and Kevin nearly started a war over fishing rods.
“You have six.”
“I have four.”
“You have six.”
“Two of those are broken.”
“They still count.”
“They absolutely do not count.”
I sat at the kitchen table watching them bicker, and for the first time in weeks, I felt warm. Like maybe the world wasn’t ending after all.
Dani eventually noticed me watching and her expression softened. “How are you really doing?”
The kitchen quieted. I looked down at my hands, then back up at them.
“I’m not okay,” I admitted. “I’m trying to be, but I’m not.”
Saying it out loud felt a lot heavier than I expected.
Dani nodded, there was no sad look in her eyes.
“You don’t have to be okay right now,” Kevin said.
I swallowed hard. “What if I never get there?”
“You will.”
The certainty in his voice startled me. “How do you know?”
“Because you’re still standing.”
He looked around the cluttered kitchen, the dishes, the ridiculous fishing rods, the noisy life they had built together. “You’re not alone anymore, Sera.”
My eyes stung and I laughed weakly. “I’m trying to believe that.”
“Good,” Dani said firmly. “Because we’re not letting you do this by yourself.”
That night I called my father.
I stared at his contact for almost five minutes before actually pressing the button. Which was ridiculous because he was my father and not some loan shark. Still my stomach twisted while the phone rang.
He answered on the third ring.
“Seraphine?”
My throat tightened at the gentleness of his voice, I hadn’t realized how much I’d actually missed him.
“Dad.”
There was silence for a few seconds, then immediate concern. “What’s wrong?”
I laughed shakily. He knew me too well. “I left Ironmoor.”
There was another pause, for a second I wondered if the call had disconnected, then his voice came again.
“Are you safe?”
My eyes burned. He didn’t ask why or what happened. My safety always came first.
“Yes.”
I heard him exhale in relief. “Good.”
My throat tightened. “Dad…”
“What is it?”
My hand drifted to my stomach, a habit I had developed lately.
“I’m pregnant.” Another silence. “And… it’s twins.”
When he finally spoke, his voice sounded rough. “Your mother would have been so happy.”
The words hit me harder than anything else had. I closed my eyes. “Dad…”
“You visit when you’re ready,” he said gently. “You don’t have to rush.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see it. Then he said something I hadn’t realized I’d been waiting years to hear.
“You were always enough, Seraphine. Even when I couldn’t see it myself… you were enough.”
The tears came instantly and I tried and failed to muffle my sobs.
Three days later I stood barefoot in the water at sunset. The ocean had turned gold, cold waves curling around my ankles while the wind tugged at my hair. For the first time since leaving Ironmoor, I felt my wolf again. Though faint, weak, and fragile, like a frightened animal peeking out from shelter, it was there.
I closed my eyes. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “You can come back.”
A tiny pulse answered.
I smiled through fresh tears. “We’re going to be okay.”
The words were meant for both of us.
My phone rang. Unknown number. I almost ignored it, but something made me answer.
“Hello.”
There was no response, I almost disconnected. Then a voice came from the other end:
“Sera.”
My entire body went cold.
Caden.
I nearly ended the call again. I wasn’t ready to talk to him. “Please listen…”
“No.”
“Sera…”
“You already made your choice.” The wind whipped around me. “You ended our marriage long before you bothered speaking to me.”
“I need to explain.”
“No. You don’t.” The anger surprised me with its intensity. “You had weeks to explain.”
“Sera…”
“Don’t contact me again.”
I ended the call. My heart hammered in my chest.
Thirty seconds later the phone rang again. Unknown number. I stared at it, then answered.
“What?”
Silence. Then: “Isolde is pregnant.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“How far along?” I asked.
His silence lasted too long. My stomach twisted. “Caden.”
“Four months.”
The words hit like a physical blow. Four months. While we were still married. While I was sleeping alone. While I was sick. While I was begging him to look at me.
Four months.
I closed my eyes. The silence on the line told me everything. He knew it too.
I laughed, and the sound was horrible. “So I was right.”
“Sera—”
“I hope she makes you happy.” The words barely sounded like mine. “I hope she’s worth everything.”
“Sera, please—”
“Don’t call me again.”
I ended the call for good this time.
My knees gave out. I sank onto the sand as the ocean blurred in front of me. The betrayal wasn’t new, not really. Some part of me had always known. But knowing and hearing it were two different things.
The truth settled deep into my bones.
Deep inside me, my wolf lifted her head. Then she howled. Not aloud, but I felt it in every ounce of grief, every shattered piece, every broken dream. The sound tore through me until it felt like my soul was splitting apart.
I curled forward on the sand, alone beneath the darkening sky, and for the first time since leaving Ironmoor, I let myself fully understand the extent of what Caden Ashford had done to me.
- Writer
