My Fiance is Sleeping With My Step Sister

Chapter 87

The next morning, I woke with a renewed sense of purpose. Yesterday had shown me something I never thought I’d find again acceptance. Belonging. It was fragile still, like a flame flickering in the wind, but it was there. And I wasn’t going to let it be extinguished.

“Where are you off to so early?” Devon’s voice rumbled sleepily from behind me as I pulled on my tunic.

I turned, smiling at the sight of his messy hair and the sheets tangled around his waist. “Just… out. I want to spend more time with the pack. With everyone. Not just hide inside the house.”

His brow arched in surprise, then softened into approval. “I like that. Just don’t overwork yourself, alright? Remember…” His gaze dipped meaningfully to my stomach.

I rested a hand there instinctively. “I remember. I’ll be careful.”

He tugged me back to him for a quick kiss before releasing me. “Good. Go show them what kind of Luna you’ll be.”

The word still felt strange Luna. Me. But maybe, if I kept taking steps like these, it wouldn’t feel so impossible anymore.

The courtyard was already alive with activity by the time I stepped outside. Warriors sparred in the training grounds, the sound of fists meeting padded shields echoing in the morning air. Mothers bustled around with baskets of laundry or food. Elders sat beneath the large oak near the center, their voices weaving together in low, thoughtful conversation.

At first, I hesitated. Old habits whispered for me to keep my head down, to stay unnoticed. But I shook the thought away. No. This was my home now. These were my people now.

I started toward the training grounds first. The clash of effort and discipline had always fascinated me, though in my old pack, I’d never been allowed to even watch.

One of the warriors noticed me immediately. He straightened from his sparring stance and bowed slightly. “Luna.”

The word still startled me, but I forced myself to smile. “Please, don’t stop on my account.”

He nodded, and the others continued their drills. I watched quietly, my hands folded in front of me, until one of the younger warriors barely older than a boy, with bright eyes and a cheeky grin jogged over.

“Would you like me to show you some of the basics?” he asked.

I blinked. “Me?”

He nodded eagerly. “You never know when even the simplest stance can help. Not that you need it, of course everyone saw you and Alpha during the fight with the witch. But still… it could be fun.”

Fun. That wasn’t a word I often associated with combat. Still, his enthusiasm was infectious.

“Alright,” I said softly.

The boy grinned and demonstrated a simple defensive stance, feet apart, knees bent slightly. I mimicked him, my movements awkward at first, but he was patient, correcting me with cheerful encouragement. Soon, a few of the other warriors drifted closer, watching with smiles. Some even offered tips, their tones respectful and warm.

I laughed when I stumbled, surprised by the sound of my own joy ringing across the training ground. For once, no one mocked me for it. No one sneered. They laughed with me, not at me.

“Not bad, Luna,” one of the senior warriors said when I managed to hold the stance correctly. “You’d make a fine fighter if you weren’t already destined for something greater.”

The praise made my cheeks warm. I bowed my head slightly. “Thank you.”

From the training grounds, I moved toward the oak where the elders sat. Their sharp eyes followed me as I approached, and for a moment, I worried would they still hold old doubts about me? Would they see me as unworthy?

But one of them, an older woman with silver hair braided neatly down her back, beckoned me closer. “Come, child. Sit with us.”

I obeyed, settling onto the bench beside her.

“We were just speaking of the harvest festival,” another elder explained. “It will be your first as part of the pack.”

My heart skipped. A festival. I had never been allowed to attend such things before.

“I… I don’t know what to expect,” I admitted.

“That’s the beauty of it,” the silver-haired woman said with a knowing smile. “You don’t need to expect. You just need to join. To celebrate with your people.”

“Perhaps,” one of the men added with a twinkle in his eye, “you’ll even honor us by helping with the preparations. The Luna’s touch is always welcome.”

My throat tightened. They wanted me there. They wanted me to take part. I nodded quickly, hiding the emotion threatening to spill. “I’d be honored.”

We spoke for a while longer about traditions, about food, about dances beneath the moonlight. Their stories painted vivid images in my mind, and for once, I felt included in the tapestry of the pack’s history instead of pressed against the edges.

Later in the day, I found myself wandering toward the market stalls set up near the village square. The air was thick with the scent of fresh bread, roasted meats, and sweet honey. Children darted between the stalls, their laughter ringing out.

One of the bakers, a broad-shouldered man with flour dusting his hair, spotted me and called out. “Luna! Come try this.”

Before I could protest, he pressed a warm roll into my hands. “On the house.”

I bit into it, the taste rich and comforting. My smile must have said it all, because the baker chuckled. “Good, yes? You’ll need strength now, for two.” His eyes flickered briefly to my stomach, but his tone was kind, not prying.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

The rest of the market was much the same. Everywhere I turned, there were smiles, greetings, small gifts pressed into my hands a flower crown from a little girl, a carved wooden charm from an elder craftsman. With each interaction, the walls around my heart crumbled a little more.

I wasn’t just tolerated here. I was welcomed. Cherished.

By the time the sun began to set, I returned to the pack house with aching feet and a heart so full it almost hurt. Devon was waiting for me in the doorway, his arms crossed as he watched me approach.

“You’ve been busy,” he remarked, though the hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

I laughed softly, holding up the little flower crown I’d been given. “I made friends.”

His expression softened completely then, and he pulled me into his arms without another word. I sank into his embrace, resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn’t just surviving. I was living.

And it was nice.