All Chapters of The Triplet's Bullied Mate: Chapter 301 - Chapter 310

Elowen’s POV The morning sunlight, fractured into brilliant beams by the tall, arched windows lining the academy hallways, painted shifting patterns on the ancient stone floors as I walked between the triplets, their solid presences a comforting weight on either side of me. My legs ached with a pleasant fatigue, a subtle reminder of the rooftop rendezvous that had stretched late into the night—not just from the tangled limbs and whispered intimacies, but also from the surprisingly intense sparring match Ranon had “accidentally” initiated before we finally sought sleep. And of course, Alaric had ensured I was thoroughly breathless by the end of his impromptu training session, punctuated by his infuriatingly smug little smirks every time I stumbled. Theron, as was his usual morning demeanor, hadn’t said much. He rarely did before the day truly began. But his hand had brushed mine twice as we walked through the bustling corridors, a fleeting, almost accidental contact, and I knew bette

Theron’s POV The morning sun, already climbing high enough to cast sharp, unforgiving shadows across the dusty expanse of the combat arena, beat down with a relentless intensity. But I barely registered its heat. My entire focus, every fiber of my being, was fixed on her—Elowen. She stood on the far side of the training grounds, the polished steel of a practice sword gleaming in her hand, the sound of genuine, unrestrained laughter spilling from her lips as she sparred playfully with Alaric. The way her dark hair caught the sunlight, each strand shimmering like spun obsidian, the subtle yet significant improvement in her fighting stance, the unguarded curve of her smile that always managed to soften something deep and unnamed within me—it all drove a silent, invisible spear straight through my chest. And yet, even through the warm, almost aching haze of admiration that always washed over me when I watched her, a dark, sharp sliver of something akin to jealousy twisted uncomfortabl

Elowen’s POV The moon, a silent voyeur in the inky sky, had climbed higher, its silvery light now painting the academy grounds in stark contrasts of light and shadow by the time Theron and I finally made our way back to the hushed stillness of the Blackthorn mansion. The long corridor leading to the private quarters was dim, the only illumination emanating from the ornate wall sconces, their soft golden glow casting elongated, dancing shadows across the polished stone floor. My hand remained securely nestled within Theron’s, his grip steady and reassuringly warm, a silent anchor in the lingering turbulence of my emotions. I could feel the weight of his occasional glances, the subtle intensity in his silver eyes as he seemed to study my every expression, as if trying to decipher the intricate map of my inner world. We didn’t speak much during our walk back. There was a quiet understanding that permeated the silence, a sense that words were unnecessary, that our shared emotions trans

Elowen’s POV The academy courtyard, typically a vibrant tapestry of early morning activity, buzzed with the usual pre-class energy—students engaged in hurried conversations, a few already beginning their morning sparring rituals, others still rubbing sleep from their eyes as they congregated in familiar groups. But for me, the familiar chaos felt strangely muted, the sounds and sights around me slightly out of focus as I stepped into the bright morning light beside Theron, the lingering warmth of his body still a tangible memory against mine. He hadn’t relinquished his hold on my hand since we’d left his room, his fingers interlaced firmly with mine, a silent declaration. A knot of apprehension tightened in my stomach. I tried to subtly pull my fingers from his grasp, my gaze darting around, worried about the inevitable scrutiny of too many lingering eyes. But Theron only tightened his grip, his knuckles brushing against mine with a possessive firmness. “They already know, Elowen,

Elowen’s POV The instant the shrill clang of the academy bell sliced through the stunned silence of the lecture hall, I was on my feet, propelled by a raw, visceral need to escape. I didn’t wait for the lingering murmurs to fade or the excited whispers to quiet. I needed air, a vast expanse of it. I shoved the heavy oak classroom door open with more force than necessary and strode out into the echoing corridor, my footsteps ringing sharply against the cold stone floor. My chest felt constricted, a painful tightness as if my ribs were straining to contain something wild and untamed that threatened to break free. Damn her. Damn Lisa and her venomous words, her calculated cruelty. She had known exactly where to strike, aiming for the raw nerve of my insecurities, twisting the knife of my complicated relationships with the triplets. And gods, I had let her. I had let her win by snapping, by giving the entire class a dramatic, uncontrolled display of my volatile temper. And now? Now t