Chapter 23
Kieran
I leaned against the car and watched the hospital
entrance.
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She came through the automatic doors, bag over one shoulder, hair pulled back. Her eyes found me and widened barely, just a flicker, before her expression sealed shut.
She walked right past me.
There was no pause and no acknowledgment. Just the click of her shoes against the pavement. It seemed as if I was a stranger she’d decided not to see.
I watched her go for three steps before pushing off the
car.
She wasn’t actually angry. The screaming, the threats about dragging me to court, ruining my name, branding Sophie for the world to see had been heat.
Serena had always burned hot and fast, and by the time11
the flames died she’d be embonnessed by the umeokase.
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Besides, she had bigger things to worry about. Her parents were adjusting to a new house, her mother was still recovering, and she had this internship consuming her energy. Serena loved her family above everything else, and that love anchored her to this city, to this pack, to
She wasn’t going anywhere.
I caught up to her in four strides and closed my hand around her elbow.
She stopped walking but didn’t turn around.
“You can’t ignore me.” I kept my voice even. “I understand if you’re still upset. But we are still married.”
She pulled her arm free and turned halfway, her gaze cutting past me toward the hospital behind us.
“Your precious Sophie is in there, by the way.” Her voice was flat, almost bored. “I know you came here for her.”
I glanced back at the building, then at her.
hreached for her hand again. This time I didn’t let go11:11
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when she tensed.
“I came to pick you up.” I guided her toward the car. “We’re going to see your parents.”
She stopped resisting.
I knew she would. Serena could refuse me all day. She could throw books and slam doors and sleep on the far edge of the bed. But the moment her parents were involved, she showed up.
Every time.
Serena sat in the passenger seat with her bag in her lap and her eyes fixed on the window.
Her parents’ house was smaller than I’d expected.
The street was narrow, lined with modest homes that all looked the same. The front yard was barely big enough for the two potted plants. A far cry from the house I’d provided.
They’d given all of that up because they didn’t want to gyg me.
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Her mother opened the door after we knocked, her face breaking into a warm smile.
“Kieran.” She clasped my hands in both of hers. “What a surprise. Come in, come in.”
Her father appeared behind her, and the handshake he gave me was firm.
“Hold on.” I turned back to the car and signaled the driver.
He popped the trunk and began carrying in boxes. Imported tea, fresh fruit, a case of supplements the doctor had recommended for her mother’s recovery, a new set of cookware, blankets, two boxes of assorted goods I’d had my assistant put together that morning.
Her mother pressed her hands together. “Kieran, this is too much. You shouldn’t have-”
“It’s nothing.” I took the last box from the driver and set it on the kitchen counter.
“Really, you’ve brought enough for an army.” She was already opening the tea, shaking her head but smiling 1:12
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Her father didn’t comment on the gifts. He watched the boxes pile up, then cleared his throat.
“Dinner is almost ready.” He placed his hand on my back.
“Come. Sit.”
The dining table was small, barely enough room for four. But the porcelain was beautiful – white with painted blue edges. A pot of stew sat in the center beside a platter of grilled fish and a bowl of rice.
I pulled out Serena’s chair. She sat without looking at me.
Through dinner, she played her role. She sat close enough to me that her shoulder nearly brushed mine.
To anyone watching, we were fine.
Halfway through the meal, she set her chopsticks down.
“You don’t have to stay if you’re busy.” She said it to her plate, not to me. “I know you have things to handle.”
I knew what she meant.
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“When it’s time to go,” I said, picking up a piece of fish, “we’ll go together.”
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Across the table, her parents exchanged a glance. Her mother’s smile faltered for half a second before she
recovered, reaching for the stew.
Serena noticed. She moved quickly, picking up a cut of meat and placing it on my plate, filling the silence with the small gesture of a wife tending to her husband.
I watched her do it.
When we were younger, she wouldn’t have needed to perform. She’d cling to my arm at pack dinners. She’d lean into me without thinking, her hand always finding mine under the table. She did it because she wanted to, because touching me was as natural to her as breathing.
Now her movements were different. She placed the meat on my plate.
I picked up a piece of fish and set it on her plate.
She didn’t acknowledge it, but she ate it.
After dinner, I handed her father a bottle of wine from the last box. It was aged, a good year, the kind that was difficult to find outside the city.
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