Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 183

Chapter 183

Kira’s Perspective

I perched on the edge of the bed, the envelope turning slowly between my fingers. The soft glow of the bedside lamp threw warm, golden shadows over the paper, highlighting Rocco’s handwriting—each letter carefully crafted, elegant and deliberate, spelling out my name with a familiar grace. My fingers tingled oddly as I broke the seal, a strange numbness spreading through my hand.

This letter was never intended for my eyes. It was a message written to a ghost—a woman he believed lost forever. I withdrew several pages, each filled with the unmistakable flow of his script, and began to read.

My dearest Kira,

It has been three agonizing months since you slipped away from me, and every single day feels heavier than the last. I wake up reaching for you, only to be met by an empty space beside me. The mansion rings hollow without your presence. I visit your memorial every day, though there is nothing truly there to hold on to…

I continued to read, moving through his raw, heartfelt expressions of grief and despair. He reminisced about our first date, the ceremony where we marked our bond, and the dreams we once wove together for a shared future. Each word seemed designed to awaken something deep inside me, yet I felt only a hollow void. No sorrow, no longing—just a strange detachment, as if the letter described someone else’s life entirely.

“These words belong to another woman’s story,” I murmured softly to the silent room. “Not mine.”

I flipped through more pages, watching Rocco pour out his soul to a woman who was no longer alive. Luna Kira Blackwood—the woman he loved—seemed like a distant character from a tale I had heard but never truly lived.

That Luna had perished alongside my wolf.

Setting the letter down gently, I glanced around the bedroom that had once been ours. The rich mahogany dresser still held my favorite perfumes, their scents faint but lingering. The forest painting we had hung together after our honeymoon remained on the wall, its greens and browns a quiet reminder of happier times. My reading glasses lay on the nightstand as if I had just stepped away for a brief moment.

My mind drifted back to Dr. Bennett’s office, to the day he delivered the diagnosis that shattered my world.

“Terminal Heartbreak Syndrome,” he had said, his eyes filled with a mixture of pity and sorrow. “The bond-break, combined with the loss of your child… it has triggered a catastrophic rejection.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify