1#01

1

"Thalia Silverfang, has someone mistreated you?"

My sibling's inquiry carried a hint of worry as he paused during our phone conversation. He must have detected something in my voice, but I tried to appear nonchalant.

I put on a false cheerful expression, despite the anger threatening to overwhelm me. "No, everything's fine. I've just come to a conclusion—if marriage is inevitable, does the identity of my spouse really matter?"

"Are you certain?" He persisted, his unease growing. "Thalia, if there's a problem, you can confide in me. What's behind this sudden eagerness to wed? You seemed reluctant before."

Naturally, I hadn't been keen. My true wish was to marry Damien. But recent events made me realize I was merely a substitute—filling the void left by his genuine love.

I couldn't bear to live that way, regardless of how much it hurt.

"I've already explained," I responded, forcing a laugh despite my inner turmoil. "I've simply figured things out. Plus, I'm at the right age now. Any later, and I might not have any suitors."

"Don't talk like that," my brother said firmly. "Anyway, I'll have someone inform you about your arranged match. It's better to get firsthand information."

"That's unnecessary. I trust our parents' judgment," I continued, maintaining a steady voice despite my internal struggle. "Even if it's an arranged union, I'm sure you've all carefully selected the candidate."

A pause ensued before I heard my brother sigh, the sound filled with relief and lingering concern. My defiant departure years ago had left the pack uneasy, especially him. Now, with my return, he likely felt somewhat reassured.

His tone softened. "I'm pleased you've accepted this. When are you coming home? Are you sure you don't want to meet him before finalizing everything?"

"There's no need," I replied, my voice sharp with pragmatism. "The sooner we agree, the quicker the pack can resolve its crisis. Start planning the ceremony, and let's schedule it for a month from now."

"Got it," he said, though a trace of doubt remained. "By the way, are you still in touch with Damien? I heard his first love, Kaia, had come back. Perhaps you should reach out to him—invite him to the celebration. He might bring good fortune."

His words caught me off guard. So, he was aware of Kaia. No wonder Damien had always insisted I keep our relationship a secret from my family.

I lowered my eyes, concealing the pain in my heart. "Don't trouble him," I said quietly. "We're not close."

Just then, I heard the sound of a key in the lock. I hastily said goodbye and ended the call, steeling myself.

When I looked up, Damien was standing before me, his smile radiant, his eyes gleaming with a brightness I had rarely witnessed. It wasn't meant for me. It couldn't be.

"Not close to whom?" he asked playfully.

"Not close to you," I answered bluntly, though my voice trembled.

Damien raised an eyebrow, and before I could retreat, he pulled me into his arms. His grin was mischievous, his breath warm against my ear.

"Really?" He murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Then tell me, how are we not close? Haven't we shared enough intimate moments to be considered close, hmm?"

The closeness that once made my heart race now filled me with discomfort. I tried to break free from his embrace, and as I did, I noticed a faint lipstick mark on his collar.

The burns on my wrist throbbed, a sharp pain piercing through my composure. Tears formed in my eyes, unbidden and unstoppable.

"Thalia, what's wrong?" Damien's voice changed, panic replacing his usual self-assurance. He rolled up my sleeve, revealing the angry red marks on my skin.

His expression contorted with alarm. "How did this happen? When were you burned? Why didn't you tell me?"

His concern appeared genuine, but it only intensified the ache in my chest. Had he so quickly forgotten what transpired at the banquet?

I remained silent, unsure whether to remind him and watch his facade of false affection crumble, or allow him to continue pretending.