My Fiance is Sleeping With My Step Sister

Chapter 86

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, spilling warmth across the room as I lay there, awake before Devon for once. His arm was still wrapped firmly around my waist, heavy and protective even in sleep. For a moment, I simply watched him the steady rise and fall of his chest, the sharp line of his jaw softened by slumber. A small smile tugged at my lips. I still couldn’t believe this was my life now. Safe. Protected. Wanted. Not being beaten down every day.

But my thoughts didn’t linger only on him. They drifted toward the mothers I had met yesterday, the laughter of the children in the daycare, and the gentle kindness I had felt among them. It had been so different from the sharp, poisonous atmosphere of my old pack. So different from the cruelty of my mother and step-sister.

I wanted more of that. More of the warmth, more of the simple comfort of belonging.

Carefully, I slipped out from under Devon’s arm, pressing a light kiss to his temple before getting dressed. I didn’t want to wake him he had been working late with the warriors again, ensuring security after Levi’s attack. He deserved to rest, and for once, I wanted to do something on my own.

As I stepped out of the pack house, the crisp morning air greeted me. My steps were lighter than usual. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t walking toward duty or punishment. I was walking toward choice.

The daycare building sat near the training grounds, painted in soft hues of cream and pale blue. A flower garden lined the walkway, clearly cared for by loving hands. The sound of children’s laughter floated out before I even reached the door, and it tugged at something deep in my chest something fragile, something I was still learning to nurture.

Inside, the room was warm and bright. Colorful drawings decorated the walls, little stick figures of wolves and suns and houses scrawled in uneven crayon strokes. Wooden shelves lined with toys stood against one wall, and small mats were spread across the floor for the toddlers to nap on.

“Addy!” a voice called warmly.

I turned to see Marissa, one of the mothers I’d spoken with yesterday, waving at me with a bright smile. She had a baby balanced on her hip, chubby cheeks flushed pink from laughter. “I didn’t know you’d come back today.”

I smiled shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I… I wanted to. If that’s okay.”

Her expression softened. “Of course it is. Come, come the children adore new faces. And the mothers too.”

Before I knew it, I was surrounded. A few of the mothers I’d spoken with yesterday approached, all offering greetings and smiles that felt so genuine I almost didn’t know how to react. One handed me a cup of tea, another patted my arm warmly, and soon, their chatter swept me up as though I had always belonged here.

It was overwhelming in the gentlest way.

“Would you like to hold her?” Marissa asked, shifting her baby toward me.

My eyes widened. “Oh I don’t know if I…”

“You’ll be fine,” she said with a laugh, carefully placing the baby in my arms before I could protest.

The little girl blinked up at me with wide brown eyes, her tiny fist curling around the fabric of my tunic. She was warm. Fragile. Perfect. I froze, afraid even to breathe wrong.

“She likes you,” Marissa said softly.

Something in my chest ached. A memory flickered faint but sharp. The day I had realized I’d lost my first child. The child I hadn’t even known was there until it was too late. The betrayal, the grief, the emptiness.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to focus on the weight in my arms now, on the miracle of new life staring back at me.

“She’s beautiful,” I whispered.

The baby gurgled, and a small laugh escaped me. It was so… natural. So easy, the way she trusted me without hesitation.

As the day went on, I moved among the children and mothers, watching, listening, learning. One mother showed me how to soothe a crying infant by humming softly while rocking. Another guided my hands as I helped a toddler stack wooden blocks into a tower. The boy beamed at me when the tower stayed standing, his joy contagious.

“You’ll be a wonderful mother,” one of the women said to me as we tidied up after a snack of fruit slices.

The words hit me harder than I expected. For so long, I had doubted it. I had feared it. My past had whispered cruel lies into my heart that I was unworthy, that I was incapable, that I would fail just as everyone had always said I would.

But here, surrounded by kindness, I felt that fear begin to unravel.

“I… I hope so,” I admitted softly.

“You will,” she said firmly. “I can see it already. You care. That’s the most important thing.”

Later, I found myself sitting on the floor with a circle of children gathered around me, their eyes wide with curiosity.

“Tell us a story!” one of them begged, tugging at my sleeve.

I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I had a*********s worth telling. But then I remembered the tales my father had once told me before everything had gone so wrong. Stories of wolves who could call fire, of warriors who defended their packs with courage brighter than the moon.

So I told them a story.

Their faces lit up as I spoke, their little gasps and giggles filling the air. I used my hands, my voice rising and falling dramatically, until even the mothers nearby were smiling as they watched.

When I finished, the children clapped, some of them crawling into my lap or hugging my arms. I laughed, the sound freer than it had been in years.

For the first time, I felt like I wasn’t just an outsider trying to belong. I was part of something.

By the time the sun dipped lower in the sky, I was reluctant to leave. The mothers hugged me goodbye, their words full of encouragement, and the children waved enthusiastically.

Walking back to the pack house, I felt lighter. Stronger. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t dread the future. I looked forward to it.

When I stepped back into our room, Devon was awake, waiting for me. His eyes softened the moment they landed on me.

“You went out alone,” he said, his tone a mix of surprise and pride.

I nodded, smiling as I set my shoes aside. “I did. To the daycare.”

His brows lifted. “And?”

I walked toward him, climbing onto the bed beside him. “And… it was wonderful. The mothers were kind. The children” I paused, placing a hand over my stomach. “The children made me feel like maybe… maybe I can really do this.”

Devon reached out, covering my hand with his. His thumb brushed gently over my knuckles. “You can. I’ve always known you could.”

Tears pricked my eyes, but they were warm tears. Healing tears. For the first time, I believed him.

I leaned into him, letting his warmth surround me as the quiet of evening settled around us. For once, the fear didn’t feel so heavy. For once, hope felt stronger.

And I held onto it.