chapter 17 selder's anger
735 Words
you?”
Aria’s fingers curled around the basket handle. She had sold almost everything. But Selda never listened—she only twisted.
“I sold most of it,” Aria said softly.
Mira peeked out from behind the doorway, lips curved into a smug smile. Rae leaned against the wall beside her, arms crossed, clearly entertained. They had been waiting for this.
Selda stood abruptly. “Hand me the coins.”
Aria reached into her pocket and placed the small pouch into her aunt’s palm. Selda opened it instantly, weighing it with a practiced flick of her wrist. Her eyes narrowed.
“This is all?”
“Yes, Aunt Selda.”
Selda scoffed loudly and threw the pouch onto the table. Coins scattered with a sharp clatter.
“You’re useless,” she said flatly. “I should’ve sent Rae instead. She has charm. She knows how to smile. Instead, I send you—and you bring me scraps.”
Rae lifted her chin proudly. Mira giggled softly, covering her mouth as if trying to hide it.
Aria said nothing.
She had learned long ago that defending herself only made things worse.
Selda stepped closer—too close. Aria could smell the bitter herbs clinging to her clothes, sharp and overpowering.
“Tell me,” Selda hissed. “Were you daydreaming again? Staring into space like your worthless mother used to?”
Aria flinched. “No, Aunt Selda.”
“Then why is there so little money?!”
Rae laughed. “Maybe she scared customers away with her tired face.”
Mira added sweetly, “Or maybe she kept some coins for herself.”
The room went silent.
Selda’s head snapped toward Aria. “Did you?”
Aria’s breath caught. “No! I would never—”
Selda’s hand shot out, gripping Aria’s chin painfully, forcing her face upward.
“Look at me.”
Aria obeyed, blinking rapidly as tears threatened to fall. Selda’s eyes searched her face like a hunter seeking weakness.
Green eyes.
Her mother’s eyes.
Selda’s grip tightened for a brief, vicious second before she shoved Aria away.
“Go to the backyard,” Selda ordered coldly. “Fetch water. Clean the bowls. Then prepare Mira’s dress for tomorrow. If I see even one wrinkle, you won’t sleep tonight.”
“Yes, Aunt Selda.”
Aria turned quickly, escaping before the tears could fall. She felt Rae and Mira’s stares burning into her back, heavy with satisfaction.
Outside, the night air hit her like a shock.
Cold. Damp. Silent.
She dragged the bucket toward the well, her arms trembling—not from exhaustion, but from everything she was holding inside. The rope creaked softly as she lowered it, the sound echoing in the quiet yard.
That was when she heard them.
Rae’s whisper floated through the open window.
“Did you see how Selda almost slapped her?” Rae giggled.
“She deserves worse,” Mira replied. “Always acting so pitiful. Like anyone cares.”
Aria clenched her jaw, lowering the bucket deeper into the well.
Then—
The water shimmered.
A faint green glow pulsed across the surface, soft but unmistakable, like moonlight trapped beneath the water.
Aria froze.
“No… not again,” she whispered.
Her heart pounded violently as the glow flickered—then vanished.
She looked around wildly.
No footsteps.
No voices nearby.
Good.
Her powers were responding faster now. Stronger. Triggered by anger, fear, humiliation—emotions she couldn’t always control. She wrapped both hands tightly around the rope, forcing herself to breathe slowly.
Hide it.
Always hide it.
As she pulled the bucket up, movement near the fence caught her eye.
She stopped breathing.
A pair of silver eyes glowed from the shadows beyond the yard—low to the ground, unblinking.
A wolf.
Massive. Silent. Its fur blended with the darkness, but its eyes reflected the faint light like polished metal.
Aria’s heart thundered—but strangely, fear didn’t follow.
The wolf tilted its head, studying her. Curious. Alert. Not threatening.
They stared at each other for a long, suspended moment.
Then, without a sound, it stepped back into the trees and vanished.
Aria swallowed hard.
If she told Aunt Selda, she would be accused of lying. Or worse—punished for “imagining things.”
So she said nothing.
She carried the bucket inside, finished her chores, pressed Mira’s dress until her fingers ached.
- Writer
