Chapter 8

Iris's POV

Eric didn’t deserve to be at her funeral. He didn’t even deserve to know where she would be buried.

I was going to do everything myself.

I buried her the next morning.

There was no ceremony. No pack funeral. No pack member. I buried her behind the house, near the field where she used to chase butterflies.

I dug the grave myself.

My hands were raw by the time I finished. My fingers bled. My back burned from the pain, but I didn’t stop.

I wrapped her in her favorite blanket and laid her down gently into the coffin. Then I placed her favourite unicorn next to her. She used to carry it everywhere, even to the restroom if she was allowed.

I kissed her cold forehead one last time. Then I closed the lid, and closed her up. I sat beside her grave numb, for several hours, until it was evening.

When I got into the house, it felt like a stranger’s place. Everything was too quiet. There were no toys scattered on the rug. No sound of singing from her room.

Everything was just silent.

My legs gave out, and I dropped to my knees in the living room. I didn’t cry. I just knelt there, hollow. My heart felt like it had been scraped.

I pulled out the divorce papers and a pen. The pen shook in my hand, but I signed every page without reading through them.

As I signed, several memories flashed through my mind. I couldn't forget the humiliation I had endured, the things I had sacrificed, and the years I wasted loving someone who never looked at me as anything more than a mistake.

When I was done, I left the papers on the table with a note.

“Congratulations, Alpha Eric. You got what you wanted.”

I checked my phone before I went upstairs. There was no single missed call or even a message.

Eric hadn’t called to check on Evie or to ask if she was okay.

He hadn’t even come home, even though he had a deal to honour.

I scoffed bitterly.

I entered Evie’s room last, and tears welled up in my eyes again.

Her little shoes were still under the bed. Her coloring book was open on the desk, the picture she was colouring was half-finished. It was a picture of a wolf family. Three wolves. A mother, a father, and a pup.

I traced my fingers over it with a watery smile, my lips trembled.

Her handwriting was messy, but I recognized it. She had scribbled names over each of the wolves. Mommy. Daddy. Me.

A memory flashed through my mind.

She was sitting right there at that desk, swinging her legs and singing to herself as she colored.

“Do you think Daddy will like it?” she had asked me, holding up the drawing with that wide excited grin that I loved.

“I think he’ll love it,” I had said, even though I already knew he wouldn’t even look twice.

She had nodded proudly. “Then I’m going to give it to him after the Full Moon Festival. Maybe then he’ll like me more.”

I remember that I froze in place at her words.

“What do you mean, ‘like you more’?”

She had shrugged, her smile dimmed a little. “I mean, he likes Tiffany more. But maybe if I give him a drawing, he would like me too. I want him to smile at me the way he smiles at her.”

I hadn’t known what to say then. That was just a few days ago.

She thought she could earn his love with crayons and drawings.

I bit back a sob. It should’ve been me in that grave. Not her. She was just a child. She didn’t deserve this.

I collapsed to the bed, grabbing a pillow, and hugging it tightly to my chest. The pillow still smelled like her.

“Evie…” I whispered. “I don’t know how to live without you. I don’t know who I am without you.”

I stayed there for hours.

When I finally stood, I folded the colouring book gently, placed it in my bag, and walked out.

That was the last time I would ever step into her room.

I didn’t take much with me. I just took one bag. A few clothes. Evie's half coloured picture, and her second favourite blanket. That was all I needed.

When I was done, I didn’t look back.

Happy Birthday, Evie.