Chapter 229

[ 1,138 words ]

{Third Person}

Amara slowly pressed a hand against her chest. It hurt. That was the only way she could describe it.

She had spent so much time convincing herself that her feelings were nothing more than gratitude.

Alexander had protected her. He had treated her with kindness. He had gradually allowed her into parts of his life that he rarely shared with anyone else.

They had spent quiet evenings together, walked through the city, sat beneath trees, talked about werewolves and humans, and laughed over things that would once have seemed impossible between them.

He had built a swing because she had mentioned liking one. He had carried her when she fell asleep beneath the tree.

He remembered her favourite foods, observed when she was exhausted, held her hand, and touched her hair.

He looked at her in a way that had slowly made her forget that their marriage had begun as nothing more than an arrangement.

And somewhere along the way, without realising when it had happened, she had fallen in love with him.

Amara closed her eyes. She had never said it aloud, and she had barely admitted it to herself.

But now there was no point pretending. She loved Alexander. And that was why the thought of his mate had shattered something inside her.

She wiped beneath one eye with the back of her hand before another tear could fall.

What would happen to her now?

Would Alexander bring his mate into the house?

Would she be expected to move aside and make room for her?

Would their relationship suddenly become nothing more than a formality?

Perhaps Alexander would still be kind to her. Perhaps he would continue to treat her with respect because she was his wife and because he had always been honourable toward her.

But kindness was not the same as love.

And Amara did not know what place remained for her once the woman who truly belonged beside him entered his life.

The thought made her throat tighten.

She lowered her head. Another question troubled her even more. Why hadn’t Alexander told her about this?

If he had found his mate, why had he allowed her to remain unaware?

How long had he known, and had he already known before telling her that his curse was weakening?

Was that why he had seemed different lately?

Amara’s fingers curled into her palm. Perhaps he had been waiting for the right moment. Or perhaps he simply did not know how to tell her.

She couldn’t blame him for that. Still, she couldn’t help wondering how long he intended to keep it from her.

Would he eventually come to her and say that his mate had arrived, or would she discover it by accident?

A fresh tear slipped down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away. “No,” she whispered to herself.

She didn’t want to cry, not over this.

She had known from the beginning that Alexander was never truly hers. She had simply been foolish enough to forget.

Taking a slow breath, she looked down and noticed that her slippers were beside the dressing area. She slipped her feet into them before returning to the washroom.

The cool water touched her face as she washed away the remaining tears. She stayed there for several moments, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

Her eyes were slightly red.

She splashed her face again, then reached for a towel and gently dried her skin.

By the time she stepped away from the mirror, her expression had settled into something calmer.

She would not allow herself to fall apart. Whatever happened next, she would face it with dignity.

Amara returned to the dressing room and opened the wardrobe. She selected her clothes for dinner, changing carefully and taking her time.

Her movements were slower than usual, but she made sure everything was neat before finally smoothing her hair.

She looked at herself once more. Nothing had changed on the outside, but everything felt different.

She had entered this room as Alexander’s wife. Now, she wondered what being his wife would mean once his mate stood beside him.

—

By the time Amara entered the dining room, she had already managed to compose herself.

Her hair was neatly arranged, her clothes were in order, and there was no trace of the tears she had shed earlier.

If anyone had looked at her, they would have seen the same gentle woman who usually joined Alexander for dinner.

But Alexander noticed the difference almost immediately.

He was already seated at the table, waiting for her. His eyes followed her as she walked toward her usual chair.

“Good evening,” she said softly.

“Good evening,” he responded.

Amara sat down. Usually, by this point, she would have already begun telling him something about her day.

Perhaps she would mention something she had seen in the garden or ask about one of the books in his study. Sometimes she would reach for a dish and casually ask him to pass it to her, even though a servant stood close enough to do it.

Tonight, she did none of those things.

She simply sat with her hands resting quietly in her lap while the servants brought the food.

Alexander watched her for several seconds. He already knew something was wrong. Though he couldn’t identify it, he could feel the difference.

When one of the dishes was placed near him, he served some onto Amara’s plate as he had become accustomed to doing.

“Thank you,” she said.

He looked at her. “You don’t want it?”

She glanced at the food. “I do.”

“Then why haven’t you touched it?”

She looked up at him and gave him the same small smile she had given him earlier. “I’m simply not very hungry.”

His gaze remained on her. He knew his wife well enough now to recognise when she was genuinely uncomfortable, and this wasn’t quite that.

She wasn’t scared or upset; she was just distant, and he disliked that very much.

For weeks, he had grown accustomed to her openness. He had grown accustomed to her questions, her little observations, and the way she would sometimes look at him before saying something that had been on her mind.

He had become accustomed to her sitting beside him without seeming conscious of how close they were.

Now she was being too careful.

Alexander lowered his eyes to his plate, but his attention remained on her. He had no idea what he had done. And that bothered him more than it should have.

The dinner continued quietly. Amara ate only a little. When they finished, she thanked him and excused herself earlier than usual.

Alexander watched her leave. His fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the table.

Something had changed between them, but he just didn’t know what.

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