My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her Chapter 2 COLD AND EMPTY

SERAPHINA’S POV

The quiet was fractured by a sharp cry that ripped through the quiet hallway.

"Papa! Where are you?"

All heads snapped toward the sound. My stomach did a nosedive as Celeste appeared, her golden hair flying behind her, her cheeks flushed from a sprint. Tears rimmed her eyes, yet her beauty remained stunningly intact.

Her sudden arrival after ten long years hit me like a physical blow.

Almost automatically, I glanced at Kieran. His jaw had dropped, and he was staring at Celeste as if she were a dream he feared waking from. The naked yearning in his gaze was all the confirmation I needed for the question that had tormented me for a decade: his heart had never truly belonged to me.

"Tell me I’m not too late," Celeste pleaded, her voice cracking. When silence answered her, her knees gave way.

Kieran reacted with impossible speed for a werewolf. He caught her just before she fell, holding her close to his chest. My mother and brother rushed towards them. Their embrace, filled with shared tears, formed a picture-perfect family moment—a scene from which I was perpetually excluded.

The thought lodged itself in my throat. My father was gone too. Did I not have a right to grieve?

But this was Celeste's world. It had always been that way. From her earliest steps, she commanded attention, adoration, and love. As Celeste blazed, I faded into the background, a mere shadow.

And now, with her whimpers filling the space, I might as well have been invisible.

The exit seemed like my only option. It was better to leave with what little dignity I had left than to remain and await their inevitable dismissal.

Not a single person turned their head as I slipped away unnoticed.

By the time I reached home, my tears had evaporated, leaving salty trails on my cheeks. But the hollow ache deep within my chest? That felt like an eternal companion.

My initial thought was to check on Daniel, so I headed to his room.

To my surprise, light seeped from under his door. Pushing it open, I found my nine-year-old son curled into himself, knees drawn to his chest, forming a miniature shield against the world.

"Mommy?" His voice was small, carrying an unnerving depth of understanding.

I sat on the edge of his race car bed. "Sweetheart, why are you awake?"

He gnawed on his lower lip. "Something’s wrong with Grandpa Edward, isn't it?"

My breath caught in my throat. How could I explain to this bright boy that the man who had taught him to track deer only last summer was no longer with us? I gently stroked the fabric of his pajama-covered knee. "Honey, there was... an accident tonight. Grandpa was hurt—"

"He’s dead." Daniel’s whisper held a chilling certainty. "Our bond... it broke."

My hand froze. At nine years old, he shouldn't have been able to sense the dissolution of pack bonds. Yet, here he was, exhibiting the very wolf-sensitivity I had spent his entire life hoping he would possess.

A wave of relief mixed with awe washed over me—he wouldn't be like me. He wouldn't carry the stigma of being the Alpha's flawed child, a werewolf whose wolf had never awakened.

"Come here, my brave boy." I pulled him close, inhaling the comforting scent of maple syrup and childhood sweat. No matter how much I regretted that disastrous Blood Moon Hunt, the miracle it bestowed upon me was something I would never regret.

Daniel was the sole beacon of purity in my life—the only heart that offered unconditional love.

As I tucked the spaceship-patterned blanket around his shoulders, he lifted those soulful eyes, so like Kieran’s, to mine.

"You and Daddy will always be here, right?"

The question pierced me. I gently ran my fingers through his hair, just as I had done when he was an infant fighting sleep.

"Oh, my love..."

How could I possibly explain that his father had never truly been mine to claim? That the look Kieran had directed at Celeste tonight—as if the sun had finally risen after a decade of darkness—was a look he had never once bestowed upon me? That their embrace in the hospital corridor held more intimacy than anything he and I had shared in our ten years of marriage?

"Mommy isn’t going anywhere," I promised, placing a soft kiss on his furrowed brow. "Your daddy and I love you more than anything," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Nothing will ever change that."

His sleepy smile tore at my heart. "Night, Mommy."

"Sweet dreams, my heart." I kissed his forehead, lingering a moment longer than necessary before quietly exiting his room.

The kitchen’s fluorescent lights hummed an unwelcome tune as I searched the refrigerator. Glass bottles clinked together—then froze mid-reach as the unmistakable sound of the front door opening echoed through the house.

Kieran. He was home already.

I had anticipated he would remain at the hospital all night, offering comfort to her. Reconnecting with her.

He moved through the darkened house like a phantom, his imposing frame filling the kitchen doorway. Moonlight illuminated the sharp planes of his face, and his gaze swept over me—vacant. Always vacant.

The refrigerator’s low hum served as a backdrop as he reached past my shoulder. His scent, a blend of cedar and rain, enveloped me for a single, treacherous heartbeat before he pulled back, twisting the cap off a water bottle.

"Did you... want something to eat?" My voice barely registered in the heavy quiet. "You missed dinner."

Silence was his reply, save for the working of his throat as he drank, the corded muscles tightening beneath stubble I had never been permitted to touch. The soft impact of crushed plastic against the recycling bin startled me.

He leaned heavily on the countertop, his head bowed as if bearing the weight of the world. I knew this routine intimately—a decade spent conversing with a phantom.

"I'll just..." I began to retreat towards the door.

"Seraphina."

Hearing my name on his lips was always jarring. Like a sudden splash of frigid water.

I turned back, deliberately slow. Moonlight etched sharp hollows beneath his cheekbones, his expression as impenetrable as ever.

"We need to talk."

Those quiet words sent a jolt of apprehension through me. The grip he had on the counter turned his knuckles stark white.

No gentle easing into it. No softening the blow. Just Kieran's characteristic, ruthless efficiency.

"I want a divorce."

Ten years. For ten long years, I had anticipated this moment, this final blow.

It was strangely ironic that it still struck me as a complete surprise.