His Rejected Mate
Large barrels of alcohol had been brought in, the scent of rich mead and aged whiskey mingling with the smoky aroma of fire-grilled venison.
As the crowd dispersed, I felt eyes on me.
I turned and found my parents watching me, their expressions unreadable.
I gestured for them to come closer, wrapping my arms around both of them from behind, feeling the warmth of their presence. My father stood tall, his stance firm as ever, while my mother, always more expressive, touched my arm in silent reassurance.
Their gazes drifted past me—to Ariana.
She hesitated, clearly unsure, before stepping forward.
My mother’s sharp eyes softened as she took in Ariana’s presence. She was a woman of intuition, an
Sikat na Kabanata