CELINE’S POV
The morning should have felt like a fresh start, but instead, it felt like a cruel reminder. My family hadn’t apologized. Not for ignoring me last night, not for making my mate into an issue, not for standing silently when I had poured out years of buried hurt. And now, after all of that, they were smiling at me like nothing had happened—like the slate was wiped clean simply because they had decided it was.
I stared at them as I ate, their soft voices weaving around me. My mother asking if I wanted more toast, my father reminding me to drink the juice he’d poured. All of it felt hollow, rehearsed. The warmth wasn’t real. It was a mask, one I had seen before.
They wanted something.
And despite the ache in my chest, despite how deeply they disappointed me, I knew I would not
