Eventually, I made my way home—the packhouse I had once thought of as mine. The place where Eros and I had built our life together, or so I thought. The door opened with a creak, and I stepped inside, my heart sinking with each step. The house felt colder than it ever had before. The walls, once warm with memories of our love, now seemed suffocating.
And then, I heard it. The sound that shattered my last shred of hope.
Moaning. Soft, breathy moans that made my stomach churn. Eros and Daisy. In our bed. In the bed that had once been ours.
I stood frozen in the doorway, my heart in my throat as I heard their voices. Eros's deep, familiar tone. Daisy’s breathy giggles. "You’re so much better than her," I heard Eros say, his voice laced with a smug satisfaction. "Remi’s so boring. She’s like a lifeless doll in bed."
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. The words echoed in my head, the realization that Eros had never cared for me, never loved me like he should have. He had never seen me. Not really.
A bitter laugh escaped my lips as Daisy’s laughter rang out, followed by a soft sigh of satisfaction. “She’s nothing compared to me,” she purred. “I’m glad I’m finally where I belong.”
My wolf howled in fury, the desire to lash out so strong that it was nearly overwhelming. But I forced it down. I couldn’t lose control. Not now. Not when I had so much at stake.
I didn’t know how long they shared my bed together. All I knew was after some time, Daisy finally left.
I turned and walked away, but not before I heard the door creak open. Eros stepped into the hallway, looking at me with that same indifferent expression, as though I were nothing more than an inconvenience.
“You’re here,” he said, as though addressing a servant. “I’m hungry. Make me something to eat.”
I didn’t move. I didn’t even flinch. Instead, I walked past him, heading straight for the photos—the memories I had once cherished—scattered across the room. I collected them, one by one, until they were all in a box. Pictures of me and Eros, of the life I thought we had. And then, I took the box outside.
I set it on fire.
The flames flickered, licking at the edges of the memories I had tried to hold on to. I felt a strange sense of relief as the paper curled and blackened. The life I thought I had was gone, burned to ashes.