12
1519 Words
(Morticia’s POV)
The next morning came far too quickly. The long sheer curtains made the dawn gleam with sunlight bathing my face in a soft golden light. I closed my eyes and tried with all my might to hang onto the dream, but in vain. My mind was already up by now and with it the tidal wave of all the things I've tried to run away from.
The engagement.
The ceremony.
Jacob.
I moved at a slow crawl so very quietly and the weight of it all came down on my chest. My hands writhed behind my eyes as if I could rinse my troubles away, as if I can just scrub away the evidence of sleep. But they stayed. They always stayed.
I rose out of the bed and walked to the window in order to cast a look down the garden. It was peaceful now, dew glistening on the leaves, but my mind was far from serene. I gazed into the past toward the stone bench on which Jake and I had sat two nights before. His words still echoed in my mind.
"Putting yourself first isn’t selfish, Morticia. It’s survival."
I followed the cold glass with my fingers and let out a soft sigh. I knew he was right, but the rightness, the knowledge, and the action was not accordant. Choices had consequences. I couldn't just disengage from this life, no matter how many depended on me to "be the good guy. ".
I heard a knock at the door. My heart leapt, foolishly hoping it might be Jake. However, upon entering I was startled to observe one of the pack's retainers, a young girl called Elara, staring at me. She smiled politely, bowing her head.
"Good morning, Miss Morticia," she said. "The Alpha has requested you join him for breakfast."
My heart sank, but I forced a smile. "Of course. I’ll be down shortly."
I shut the door and leaned my back against it and drew a deep breath. Breakfast with Alpha Garret was never pleasant. He had a talent for speaking in an arrogant manner to me, reminding me that I was there owing to a bargain that he had struck.
And having the engagement in place I understood that today's conversation would be over commonplace small talk.
The Breakfast Table
The dining hall was grand but cold. When light streamed in from the enormous windows, it still remained dismal. Alpha Garret sat at the head of the table, cutting into his food with precise, mechanical movements. And Jacob was to my right, I am to sit in his stead, this perfect little bride.
I sat down silently, back straight and palms in my lap as if I'd been shown how. The moment I sat, Jacob glanced at me but quickly looked away. His gaze was distant, his jaw tense.
“Eat,” Alpha Garret said without looking up. His tone was an order, not a suggestion.
I plucked the fruit off the table and passively ate a pear crisp in the simplest manner. Suddenly, silence descended upon us at that instant, leaving only the sounds of the plate clatter and the faint pronouncements of voices coming from behind us in the kitchen.
Finally, Alpha Garret reached over and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, slumping back into the chair, steely eyes fixed on me.
“I trust you’re prepared for the next few days, he said, his tone as sharp as a blade.
I nodded. “Yes, Alpha.”
His eyes narrowed, as if trying to detect openings in my veneer. “Good. It would be an embarrassment to our lineage if you went awry right now.
Disgrace. Shame. Duty.
They used to hurt, but he used to say that all the time, and they didn't hurt so much anymore.
I won't quit," I mumbled, covered my eyes obviously. It was easier that way.
He grunted, satisfied. “See that you don’t.”
In my left, on his right, Jacob's fork thwapping against the side of his bowl and I saw the eruption of his fury, a heartbeat in that instant of eternity. He shared my extreme dislike of these presentations as much as I had, albeit I thought it could not possibly have been the same reasons.
“Father,” Jacob said, his voice tight. “Do you have to do this every morning?”
Alpha Garret’s eyes flicked to him, cold as steel. “Do you have something to say, Jacob?”
Jacob’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring. It seemed as if he aimed at being contrary, but refrained himself from doing so. “No, Father.”
“Good. Alpha Garret drew a slow sip from his mug and looked dead to rights at Jacob. “A true leader doesn’t complain about responsibility, Jacob. He embraces it.”
Jacob gave no answer, looking at the plate eating the food with a seeming apathetical attitude, the food actually nauseous to him.
The rest of breakfast passed in silence.
The Storm That Follows
On that night, I idly walked the halls of the packing house and my thoughts drifted along like a seagull in the sky. My feet led me, but with no endpoint, and I hardly ever thought, when getting outside to the balcony view of the courtyard.
Air was clean, with only the odor of rain about to fall. They formed in the scene, thick, huge, a portent of the storm to follow. I contoured my back against the stone coping of the balustrade, and inhaled crisp air to the nose.
The stillness was comforting, but it didn’t last.
I heard footsteps behind me, heavy and slow. I didn't look before I knew it was Jacob.
“Didn’t think you’d be out here, he muttered, leaning beside me against the railing.
Air needed," I said, head fixed on the sky. “Didn’t think you’d still be here.”
His lips twitched in a humorless smile. “Yeah, well, Father’s making sure I stay close. ‘Keep up appearances,’ he says.”
I looked at him, and his gaze focused on the clouds. He appeared exhausted, not only physically, but also spiritually. We were both prisoners in different ways.
There's no need to stay," I said quietly as I turned away from him. “If you wanted to leave, I wouldn’t stop you.”
His eyes snapped to me, sharp and searching. “What are you saying, Morticia?”
I shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. “You have someone else you care about. I know it. I’m not blind.”
Silence.
His digits hammered into the stone while his eyes locked onto mine and his stare seemed to flash with more than just nothing. “You deserve better than this,” he muttered.
I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. “You deserve better than being tied to me. You’re not happy. I see it.”
I stared at him, unsure of how to respond. Was he admitting it? Finally admitting that neither of us wanted this after all the pretense, was he?
“You deserve better too,” I said quietly.
His eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, we were just two people, not betrothed strangers, not tools in a power struggle. Just two people trapped by circumstances they couldn’t control.
“Yeah,” he said with a sad smile. “Maybe.”
Then rain came, at first light, and then in sheets. Jacob left, his footsteps retreating back inside. But I stayed, letting the rain soak me, hiding the tears I hadn’t realized I’d been holding back.
I did not know how long I stood there, turned about, eyes toward the heavens while the water met my face. But eventually, I felt it—that familiar presence.
Jake.
His footfall was silent, yet I knew it was his. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t have to.
Morticia," he sighed, in the softest of tones, in the most unnerving of all niceties.
I breathed in the rain-soaked air, eyes still closed. “If you’re here to tell me to come inside, I’m not ready yet.
“I’m not here for that,” he said softly.
I slowly turned, and my dripping hair pressed itself against my skin. Jake stood a few feet away, arms at his sides, watching me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.
“You’re going to catch a cold, he said, his voice carrying a hint of humor.
“Maybe,” I replied.
He took a step forward. “Want some company?”
My heart ached at the question, but I nodded.
He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving my own, and we stood side by side, two people in the rain, locked in eternity. Neither of us spoke. We didn’t have to.
In that moment, words were unnecessary.
Rain washed everything else [fear, duty, lies] away. For a while, it was just us. No expectations. No titles. No broken promises.
Just Morticia and Jake, standing together in the storm.
- Writer
