Chapter 540

[ 1,085 words ]

[Meredith].

My mother was the only one I acknowledged because she was simply just my mother.

But as for Mabel, I didn’t even bother sparing her a glance. The reminder of her existence wasn’t worth acknowledging.

Then, I felt Dennis shift beside me, his posture straightening. He gave my mother a respectful nod, acknowledging her status as the Beta’s wife without excess courtesy.

My mother returned the nod calmly before turning her full attention to me.

“I’m glad to see that you are well,” she said, her tone even, measured, but observant.

Next, her gaze lingered not on my face alone, but on my stance and my presence. As if she were assessing something she couldn’t quite name.

Before I could respond, a scoff cut through the air.

“So you are really pretending I don’t exist now?” Mabel’s voice was loud enough to intentionally draw attention.

I kept my expression neutral, my gaze steady on my mother. I did not rise to it.

Then, Mabel stepped forward with irritation flashing across her face. “You didn’t even greet your own sister. Is that how a Luna behaves now?”

Then she smiled, thin and sharp. “I also heard you are hosting some grand event. Funny how not a single member of your own family was invited.”

She didn’t pause for breath, and immediately continued.

“It’s been three months, Meredith. Three months since you returned to Stormveil, and you couldn’t even bother to visit your own family. Don’t you know anything about filial piety anymore?”

Her voice rose deliberately, and I could feel curious and measuring eyes turning to us—to me. I almost laughed.

But Dennis stepped forward before I could speak. “I think you forgot your manners at home,” he said, dangerously calm. “So, you should watch your tone when you are addressing your elder sister.”

Mabel turned to him, scoffing. “And who are you to—” she started, pretending not to recognize him.

“She is also a Luna,” Dennis cut in, his gaze cold. “And the future Queen of Stormveil. Yet you stand here raising your voice, belittling her in public.”

Mabel’s lips parted, scrambling for ground. “I’m just speaking the truth—”

Dennis didn’t blink. “One more word,” he said evenly, “and I will remind you of the consequences of disrespect. Permanently.”

Almost immediately, the air shifted. The threat was unmistakable.

Mabel faltered. Her bravado collapsed into something smaller, sharper—fear edged with resentment. Then, she shot me a glare full of venom.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw Dennis lift two fingers subtly, already angling toward her eyes.

I quickly caught his wrist. “Dennis,” I said quietly.

At the same time, Mabel instinctively stepped back, retreating behind our mother seeing that she nearly lost her eyes.

Fortunately, Dennis listened to me and stilled; otherwise, words about how I instigated my own brother-in-law to blind my own younger sister would have spread through Stormveil in the coming days.

And automatically, that would have ruined my reputation and the event I was organizing.

Just then, my mother placed a hand on Mabel’s shoulder, shielding her, and turned to Dennis with a composed expression.

“Please forgive her,” she said softly. “She is young and ignorant.”

I scoffed in my heart, seeing her protect that unruly daughter of hers. And another thing, I was the one disrespected, yet my mother’s apology wasn’t even directed at me, but to Dennis.

This showed just how much I was undervalued by my family.

Immediately, something cold settled in my chest.

Dennis’s gaze hardened. “It is the Luna who deserves an apology.”

Though he meant well for me, I wasn’t interested. What was the use of apologizing when you would still go ahead to repeat the same offence over and over again?

I was done. I didn’t need an apology from people who aren’t sorry.

“We still have other stores to visit,” I said calmly, turning away. “We should return before it gets late.”

Dennis immediately released the tension, bending to lift the basket of herbs with ease. “As you wish,” he replied.

I hummed. I didn’t look back or even say goodbye. I simply walked away, my steps steady, my spine straight—leaving my mother, my sister, and every unfinished thing behind.

The crowd noise of the market faded the farther we went, replaced by the softer murmur of vendors and the rustle of leaves overhead.

It wasn’t until we turned into a narrower path between shops that I realized my chest felt tight with pressure.

I exhaled slowly, grounding myself with each step.

Dennis didn’t speak right away. He rarely rushed moments like this. That, more than anything, made him dangerous in confrontations—he knew when silence cut deeper than words.

After a few seconds, he finally said, casually, “You know, for someone who claimed she just wanted herbs, you sure attracted drama like a festival lantern.”

I huffed despite myself. “That wasn’t an invitation.”

“I know.” His lips twitched. “But if it were, your sister RSVP’d with chaos.”

I shook my head, a quiet breath slipping out of me. “She always does.”

Dennis glanced sideways at me—not pitying, not probing. Just observing. “But you handled it well.”

I didn’t answer immediately because I knew what that statement meant.

Handled it well meant I didn’t raise my voice. Handled it well meant I didn’t retaliate. Handled it well meant I walked away without demanding acknowledgement.

But it didn’t mean it didn’t sting.

“I didn’t feel victorious,” I admitted quietly.

Dennis snorted. “Good. Victory would have meant you cared enough to fight.”

That made me stop walking. I turned my head slightly, studying him.

He met my gaze, completely unbothered. “You didn’t look back,” he continued. “That’s not weakness, Meredith. That’s someone who has already moved on.”

I swallowed. ’Moved on’ The words felt heavier than I expected.

We resumed walking, entering another herb shop tucked beneath a canopy of woven vines.

As Dennis set the basket down, he added lightly, “Besides, if breaking family ties came with a medal, I would have a whole collection by now.”

I shot him a look. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said with a straight face, “invaluable.”

That earned a small, unplanned, reluctant but genuine smile from me.

As I began scanning the shelves, my thoughts settled into something steadier. The ache was still there, but it no longer ruled me.

I hadn’t lost anything today. And I realized something else, too. Walking away didn’t make me small. It made me free.

If you find any errors (non-standard content, ads redirect, broken links, etc..), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible.