Jealousy Alpha's Regret novel Chapter 163

Jealousy Alpha’s Regret

Chapter 163

Iris’s POV

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“This is my favorite aunt,” Ethan said, sliding a photograph across the table. “She passed away when I was just a kid.”

I reached for the photo, my fingers brushing against the glossy surface. The moment I looked at it, something strange happened. My mind went completely blank for a second, like someone had flipped a switch.

“She’s… beautiful,” I managed to say, studying the woman’s features. She was standing in what looked like a garden, surrounded by vibrant flowers, her smile radiating warmth. But there was something unsettling about looking at her face–something I couldn’t quite place.

“The flowers around her were her pride and joy,” Ethan explained, his voice softening with nostalgia. ‘She could make anything grow.”

I nodded absently, still transfixed by the photograph. The woman’s eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled, just like mine did. Her nose had the same slight upward tilt. Even the way she held herself–head slightly tilted, shoulders back–mirrored my own posture in

photos.

I glanced up and caught Ethan watching me intently, his body tense, eyes focused on my reaction. Was he holding his breath? The realization made me uncomfortable, and I handed the photo back with an awkward smile.

“She looks very happy,” I said. “And the flowers around her are gorgeous.”

Ethan took the photo, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he tucked it back into his wallet. “Yeah, she was always surrounded by beautiful

things.”

I fidgeted with my napkin, feeling like I needed to say something more. “It’s funny, but she actually looks a bit like me. I mean, there’s a resemblance there.”

The moment the words left my mouth, I saw Ethan’s expression shift–relief washing over his features before he quickly masked it. “You think so?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “I’ve always thought that too. It’s part of why I felt so comfortable around you from the start.”

The waiter chose that moment to arrive with our food, breaking the strange tension. Steam rose from a perfectly cooked salmon fillet om my plate, the aroma making my mouth water instantly. My pregnancy had amplified my already keen werewolf sense of smell, making food either absolutely irresistible or completely nauseating,

“This looks amazing,” I said, grateful for the distraction.

We ate and talked about safer topics–our work, our hobbies, our favorite places in the city. Ethan told me about his love for speed.

“There’s nothing like running through the forest in wolf form,” he admitted with a boyish grin. “Ever since I was a pup, I’ve been fascinated with how fast I could go.”

I laughed at that. “I was never the fastest. My father used to joke that I was too busy looking at the patterns in tree bark to focus on the

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