Chapter 11 #2
I nodded as I glanced outside. It was getting dark, and I wanted to try and make Elowyn’s coven gathering if I could.
“Where are you going?” Mikel raised his eyebrow at me when I stood up.
“Home,” I lied. “I’ll see you for dinner in a few days,” I spoke to Della.
“Will you invite Elowyn if you run into her?” Della smiled.
I nodded, keeping my expression steady even as something sharp twisted inside me.
My gaze moved between my siblings. Maybe I should tell them about Elowyn being my wife.
But I dismissed the idea. I needed to slow down.
I’d been so certain of what I felt that I hadn’t stopped to consider the quieter truth—Elowyn might not want me the way I already wanted her.
It had been hours since Elowyn left for the coven. I stopped by the house first, just in case she’d come home early, but the silence there told me she hadn’t. The scent of her cookies still lingered in the air, sweet and warm.
By the time I reached the coven, night had settled, and candlelight spilled through the windows, soft and golden against the dark. I stepped close enough to see inside.
Elowyn stood alone in the corner, her hands clasped tightly around a cup. The table near her was lined with food, laughter echoing from every group, but the plate of cookies she’d brought sat untouched. Not a single one missing.
My chest ached as I watched her glance toward them, then quickly away, pretending it didn’t matter. No one met her eyes. No one thanked her. She just stood there, trying to shrink into the shadows, her smile trembling at the edges.
And I realized then it wasn’t just the cookies they were ignoring. It was her.
She set the cup down and began to fidget with her wedding ring, twisting it like it might anchor her to something solid. Gods, she looked fucking sad. Elowyn stood there in silence, her gaze drifting toward the doorway, lingering as if she half-expected someone, anyone, to notice her presence.
Her eyes moved over the room, catching on their laughter, their easy closeness, the quiet intimacy she wasn’t part of. Hands brushed. Voices lowered. Smiles were shared.
No one looked back at her.
Not once.
Something tight and ugly coiled in my chest. It wasn’t just that they didn’t see her. It was that she’d already learned not to expect them to.
And for the first time, the thought struck hard and unwelcome. She was used to being overlooked.
Anger flared, sharp and vicious. Why was no one talking to her? She’d brought those damn cookies, smiled at anyone who drifted close, stood there open and trying, and they hadn’t even touched them. They weren’t distracted.
They were avoiding her. Like she didn’t belong there at all. And she just stood there, shoulders drawn in, pretending it didn’t hurt.
Before I could move, she gathered the cookies and closed her fingers around her amulet. Then she vanished in a spill of star mist.
No one noticed.
Not a single head turned.
Elowyn, their queen, left with tears in her eyes, and not one of those bastards so much as looked up.
By the time I got to the house, the lights were dim, the air heavy with that silence that only comes after crying.
Her cookies were in the trash, and it made guilt tighten my chest. Then I heard it—soft, broken sniffling coming from the bedroom.
Each sound hit me like a blade twisting deeper into my chest. I stepped carefully down the hall, not wanting to startle her, but the damn floorboard betrayed me, creaking under my weight.
“Abram?” she called softly, voice raw.
“Yeah, it’s me.” I stepped into the doorway. She was standing by the dresser, wiping her face in a hurry, pretending she hadn’t been crying.
“I didn’t know you were home,” she said lightly, her voice cracking just enough to ruin the act.
“I just got here,” I lied. “How was your gathering?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“Oh, it was great.” Another lie, and this one broke me more than the tears.
I swallowed hard, realizing she didn’t even feel safe telling me the truth.
“What was the gathering, anything special?” I asked, slipping my boots off to buy her a little time.
“Couples night,” she whispered.
Couples night, and she was alone.
My chest tightened.
“El…” I breathed, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“Don’t worry about me,” she cut in quickly, voice thin. “I was so busy I didn’t notice I was there alone.”
She was lying and not even trying to do it well. She just didn’t want me to feel bad.
“Della wanted to know if you’d like to come to dinner at their house in a few days,” I said it like a peace offering, hoping it might make her smile again.
Her head lifted, eyes bright with sudden excitement. “With you?” she asked, too hopefully.
I froze. I knew exactly what she meant, what she wanted that question to mean. She thought I’d told Della about us. Guilt hit me so hard I nearly took the words back.
“No, separately,” I said softly, hating myself the moment the words left my mouth.
Her eyes dropped immediately, all that light fading from her face. The silence that followed was suffocating.
“Right. Sorry, of course. I’d love to,” she whispered, turning away before I could say anything to make it worse.
“I’m exhausted from the gathering. I’m going to bed.”
She moved, shoulders tight, and began undressing in silence.
The zipper of her dress sounded painfully loud in the quiet room.
She stripped off the purple fabric, letting it fall to the floor before slipping into a soft camisole.
I watched her closely, realizing how often she did this, put on a show, pretending she wasn’t breaking. Pretending she was fine.
She crawled into bed without another word.
I followed, careful not to make it seem like pity, and wrapped my arms around her from behind.
She tensed for a moment, then went still.
I pressed my forehead to the back of her neck, pretending I didn’t hear the small, broken sound she tried to swallow down.
Her tears soaked the pillow. And I stayed quiet, holding her tighter, not knowing how to make this better.