Semua Bab He called me fat....I stole his uncle: Bab 81 - Bab 90

Selena.I did not realize how tightly I had been holding myself together until the car had driven far enough from the pack that the silence inside it began to press against me.Everything felt distant.The road ahead. The passing lights. Even my own breathing.It was as though I had left something behind back there… not physically, but something far more important. Something I could not quite name without breaking whatever fragile control I still had.I kept my gaze fixed outside the window, watching the darkness stretch endlessly beside us, refusing to let my thoughts settle on what had just happened.Because if I allowed myself to truly think about it, I knew I would not be able to sit here like this.My fingers curled slightly against my lap as a tightness began to build in my chest, slow at first, then sharper, heavier, until it became something I could no longer ignore.“Stop the car.”My voice sounded unfamiliar to my own ears, quieter than usual but firm enough that the driver

Denver.Christopher did not keep me waiting for long.By the time the knock came, I was already expecting it, standing in the middle of the room with a stillness that had nothing to do with calm and everything to do with control.“Come in.”The door opened, and he stepped inside with his usual composed ease, as though nothing about the situation required urgency. His gaze met mine briefly, measured and observant, before he closed the door behind him and faced me fully.“You asked to see me.”I did not bother with anything unnecessary.“Where is Selena?”For the smallest fraction of a second, something shifted in his expression. It was subtle, almost invisible, but I caught it.“She left,” he said.The simplicity of the answer did nothing to lessen the weight behind it.“When?” I asked, my voice even.“Last night.”My jaw tightened, just slightly.“Why?”Christopher held my gaze for a moment, as though deciding how much to say or how best to present it, and then he spoke with the same

Selena.After spending two days in the hospital, the doctor confirmed me fit enough to be discharged.And that was a problem. Not because I wasn’t strong enough to leave, but because everything outside those doors felt uncertain again.Inside, at least, I had been safe. Watched over. Given time to think without the world pressing in on me.But I couldn’t stay there forever.I sat on the edge of the bed while the nurse removed the IV from my arm, trying to ignore the slight sting it left behind.My clothes had been returned to me, neatly folded on the chair beside the bed, and I changed quietly while pretending I had somewhere to go afterward.But deep down, I was clueless about how my life was going to be out there, especially with a child growing in me. The doctor came in not long after.Doctor Jameson.He looked at me the way he had been looking at me since the first night he brought me here. He looked at me like he was trying to place responsibility somewhere that wasn’t his.“Yo

Denver.Six weeks.That was how long it had been since Selena vanished without a trace.Six weeks of silence that did not soften with time but grew heavier each day, as if the absence itself was learning how to breathe inside the pack.I stopped measuring hours after the first few days. It became easier to measure everything in failed reports, empty searches, and the same answer repeated in different forms—no sign, no scent trail, no movement.And still, I did not stop looking.The office doors opened without warning, and I did not need to look up to know who it was.My mother stepped in first, her presence calm in the way only someone used to chaos could manage. But even she did not speak immediately. She watched me for a moment, as if trying to decide whether words would even reach me.“You need to rest,” she said at last.I didn’t respond.She sighed softly, closing the door behind her.“Your restlessness is not helping anyone, Denver.”I finally looked up.“It is helping me find h

Selena.By the third day, I had started to understand the rhythm of the work, not because it had become easy, but because it had become predictable in a way that made it easier to move through without thinking too much about everything else that waited outside of it.Clean. Replace. Wipe. Move on.If I kept my head down and followed instructions, no one really paid attention to me, and for now, that was exactly what I wanted—to exist without being noticed, to move without being questioned, to do what needed to be done and leave without leaving anything behind.That morning had started like any other, quiet and controlled, with nothing out of place and nothing demanding more from me than I could give.I had been assigned to one of the recovery rooms, carefully folding fresh sheets over the bed and smoothing them out the way I had been shown, paying attention to the corners and edges, making sure everything was in place as it should be, when I noticed a faint stain on the pillowcase.It