Chapter 16 – The Silent Wound

The cabin felt quiet, but it wasn’t the kind of quiet that soothes. It is the kind that of silence that presses down on one chest, suffocating in its heaviness. The kind of silence filled with words unsaid, but were sharp enough to cut.

When Cole moves about, he doesn’t look at me. His footsteps thud heavily against the wooden floor, heavy, deliberate, each one a reminder that he is here yet not here at all. We share the same roof, the same bed, the same air, but we share nothing else.

At meals, he eats quickly, his eyes fixed anywhere but on mine. Sometimes by accident his hand will brush against the edge of my plate, and as though he has been burned he jerks it away, his muscles tightening, jaw clenching. Other times before the sun has even set, he pours him a cup of whiskey, swallowing it down like it’s water. I don’t comment. I wouldn’t even dare.

Sometimes I feel it would be easier if he just shouts. If he would just hurl the truth at me until the walls rattled. But he doesn’t. Instead he withdraws himself, keeping his distance from me, as though every glance in my direction costs him something. And when he does speak, it is only to remind me of the one thing I already know: that his heart belongs to Sasha.

I thought I would be feeling numb by now, to his actions and words towards me. But each word burrows deeper into me, finding new places to bruise me.

Even now, the words he spoke last night’s kept replaying in my head.His words of: I love Sasha. I always will.

How I had managed to keep my face steady is what I didn’t know and how I had been able to keep my hands from trembling too visibly. But I manage to do that. Because if there is one thing I refuse to give him, it is the satisfaction of seeing me break down.

When I step outside, the pack watches me with thin veiled curiosity. In a small community like this, Whispers and rumors move so easily. The human Luna. The charity case. The one without a wolf. Some tilt their heads filled with pity while others sneer as though I am an insult to their traditions.

Through all of this, I walk with a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes, carrying baskets for Mara, tending to small tasks, my sketchbook tucked beneath my arm. Mia squeezes my hand in silent reassurance whenever she can, Jasper offers a nod that says I see you. But I don’t cling unto them. I just can’t. Leaning too heavily on anyone could be admitting that I’m in fact drowning.

And Sasha, of course, is never too far.

One afternoon, She corners me near the edge of the training yard, her steps were deliberate, her lips curled into that sharp smile that never seem to touch her eyes. Her perfume is thick, cloying, a deliberate cloud around her.

“Well, well,” she purrs, circling me like a predator, “if it isn’t the Luna herself. Tell me, Ella, how does it feel, to lie down beside a man who doesn’t want you, a man who whispers another woman’s name even in deep sleep?”

The words slice through me, but I keep my expression steady. “Good afternoon, Sasha.”

Her eyes narrow, clearly annoyed that I haven’t crumbled at the first blow she had given out. She leans closer, her voice dropping low. “You’ll never be able to have him. This you must know. He’s all mine. He will always be mine. No wedding, no bond, no pack law can ever change that.”

I want to tell her that I never asked for this. That I never wanted to steal her dreams or her lover. But I bite those words back. She wouldn’t believe me anyway, and besides, the more explanations I try to give, the more she would twist them.

Instead, I meet her gaze, calm and steady. “Then perhaps you should more time trying to convince him and less time reminding me of this.“

Her lips part in surprise, then snap shut. Fury flashes in her eyes, but she covers it with a brittle laugh. “You’ll definitely regret this,” she whispers, before sweeping away with her usual grace, head high.

For a long time, I just stood there even after she’s long gone. My hand shake but only slightly, but I clench them into fists until they became steady.

That night, as usual Cole return late. His boots drag against the floorboards, his breath already laced with drink. As he collapses onto the bed, he doesn’t speak to me, he kept his back turned to me. I sit at the table with my sketchbook open, the candle flickering beside me, and draw.

Wildflowers. I always draw wildflowers.

It’s something I had once offered to Sasha. As a child, I had believed that we were soul sisters. It’s what I cling into in the woods whenever the felt too large and cruel. It’s what I hold on to now, the only thing that feels untouched by this bond that weighs heavier every day.

I carefully sketch their petals, shading each stem, tracing the curve of every leaf. It’s a small act of defiance, of survival. My world may have been decided for me, my heart chained to someone who does not want it, but this—this page, this pencil, this moment— still belong to me.

Cole shifts on the bed. I don’t bother looking at him, but I feel his eyes on me. For a heartbeat, I think he might actually say something, maybe an apology, or perhaps, another cruel reminder. But no words come out from his mouth.

The silence stretches, brittle and suffocating, until I hear the even rhythm of his breath as he finally settle into sleep.

I close the sketchbook, blow out the candle, and slip beneath the covers as quietly as I can. The space between us feels like a canyon, it felt wide and unbridgeable.

But there in the dark, I make a vow to, where no one can hear the words spoken but only me.

I refuse to break.

I refuse to beg.

If I am to walk this path alone, then so be it, but I will walk in this path with my head held high, my dignity intact, and my heart guarded.

Cole can drown on his guilt for all I care. Let Sasha boil in her fury. Let the pack whisper.

I will endure all of this.

And one day, I will be more than just a charity case.