Suddenly, a painful memory surfaced—the day Ingrid’s mate died. It had happened on my birthday. The worst part? Magnus had abandoned me that day to comfort her.
Every year, when my birthday came around, instead of celebrating with me, Magnus would visit Ingrid and her late husband's grave.
And I had been so naïve—so understanding, even when I was neglected.
It's true what they say. Kindness only leads to being taken advantage of.
"You know we can’t trust anyone, Astrid," Asher reminded me. "Your mother trusted them, and look what happened to her. She’s dead. You’re lucky to be alive—so don’t waste your life on that idiot."
My mother had once been involved with the Shadow Pack’s previous Alpha. She loved him. But my grandfather, Harold, dragged her back and killed her for having an affair with his mortal enemy.
After our conversation, I hung up the phone and continued packing my things.
I was caught off guard when the door suddenly opened, and Magnus walked in.
"Darling, we need to leave soon. Some wolves went missing during the snowstorm, and we had to find them," he said.
"Sure, no problem," I replied emotionlessly.
Before leaving, he leaned in and kissed my forehead. "When I get back, I promise I’ll take you out on a date. I want to spend some time with you."
Instead of feeling happy, I remained unmoved. The anger in my heart burned stronger than ever.
"Me too," I murmured, knowing deep down that there was no longer any time left for us.
That evening, I was ready to leave, but Asher called with bad news.
"I can’t pick you up yet. There are patrols everywhere, hunting for intruders. If I try to enter the town now, I’ll be caught."
I clenched my jaw in frustration. I had no choice but to stay in this miserable house for another night.
Days passed, and I endured Magnus and Ingrid’s presence, even though every moment around them felt unbearable.
Currently, Ingrid was staying in our home—our home—because hers had burned down. Asher had been the one to set it ablaze, and I didn’t blame him.
Tonight, we all sat at the same table for dinner. I watched in silence as Magnus served food onto Ingrid’s plate. She had a burn on her hand from the fire, and he was tending to her like she was the most fragile thing in the world.
Jealousy clawed at my insides. I was his wife, yet he treated me like a stranger.
"You’re so sweet, Magnus," I said sarcastically. "Taking such good care of her."