Chapter Eight

Leila's POV

I let out a weary sigh as my stomach growled loudly, pulling me out of the cloud of my thoughts. The air in the dimly lit room felt thick and stifling, the kind of oppressive heat that clings to your skin. As I lay on the worn mattress, I stared at the cracked ceiling, counting the uneven patches in the paint. Finally, I mustered the strength to push myself up; the coolness of the hardwood floor beneath my bare feet was a welcome relief against the sticky warmth. The pack house, usually vibrant with energy, was eerily quiet today, and I keenly appreciated the solitude it offered.

Hoping to find something edible, I made my way to the kitchen, my mind on thoughts of comfort food. As I stepped inside, the familiar sounds of clattering pans and lively chatter erupted around me. A few pack workers froze mid-motion when they caught sight of me, their expressions shifting from surprise to apprehension. Sarah, one of the kitchen staff, approached with a tight smile, almost too forced to be genuine. "Luna Leila, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"I’m just hungry," I replied, attempting to keep my tone light. "I thought I could help."

"You don’t need to help. We’re managing just fine," she quickly asserted, her nervousness palpable.

Josh, another worker, stepped in with an air of casualness that didn’t quite fit the situation. "Yeah, you should really take it easy, Leila."

Frustration bubbled up within me, and I fought against the urge to lash out. I didn’t want their pity; I craved a sense of normalcy, a break from the weight of expectations. With a reluctant nod and a weak smile, I agreed, "Fine, I’ll go relax."

As I turned to leave the kitchen, my stomach roared in protest, a harsh reminder of my hunger. The temptation to return and demand food surged within me, but I resisted, choosing instead to retreat to the living room, where I hoped to distract myself.

I sank into the soft embrace of the couch, grabbing my phone in search of a welcome distraction. I started scrolling through notifications, most of which were messages from acquaintances I didn’t have the energy to face right now. But then, one message caught my attention—a notification from Maliya.

Just seeing her name ignited an immediate fury within me, like a spark in a dry forest. Maliya had shattered my heart by venturing into an affair with my mate—the Alpha. Her betrayal felt like a knife wound, carved deep into my trust.

The message was brief but packed a punch: "You can’t avoid me forever, Leila. Sooner or later, we’ll have to talk. I’m sorry, but I just moved on. Stay with the pack workers and learn to be smart."

A wave of frustration washed over me as I absorbed her words. The dismissal in her claim of having moved on felt almost cruel, as if she were belittling the deep pain her actions had inflicted on my soul. It sent me spiraling down memory lane, reflecting on moments we had shared, the laughter that no longer echoed, and the trust that had crumbled.

Setting my phone down gently on the couch, I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through the tempest of emotions raging inside me. Anger was an overwhelming presence, but I knew I had to channel it towards something constructive. Just as I began to gather my scattered thoughts, I heard footsteps approaching from behind.

To my surprise, Maliya stepped into the living room, her hair cascading in perfect waves around her shoulders, and her demeanor peppered with a mix of concern and that irritating hint of amusement I recalled all too well.

"Leila," she chimed, her tone deceptively light, as though she could sweep away the tension with mere words. "I didn’t expect to find you here. Shouldn’t you be taking it easy?"

In that moment, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions consumed me—betrayal, anger, and confusion swirled together, leaving me breathless. Here stood the person who had turned my world upside down, the air thick with all the unspoken feelings, clinging to us like the heat in the room.

Without waiting, Maliya moved closer, her eyes flickering to my phone on the floor, and a smirk played on her lips.

"I see you’re still keeping tabs on me," she teased, her tone sharp. "How endearing."

Something snapped within me, but I chose not to react in anger. Instead, I focused on maintaining my composure. I felt it was essential to stay calm.

Maliya casually picked up a plate from the counter, likely left there for me by Sarah or Josh. With a sudden motion, she tilted the plate, spilling its contents onto the floor.

"Oops," she chirped, glancing down in mock surprise. "I suppose that wasn’t meant for you after all."

I stood up, taking a deep breath to steady myself. "Maliya, why are you behaving this way?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "What do you want from me?"

She feigned innocence, a wicked smile on her face. "Oh, darling," she purred, closing the distance between us. "I don’t want anything. I simply wanted to remind you that I’m living a life you may not have imagined for yourself. You need to remember your worth as well."

I felt a mix of pain and frustration, realizing the depth of her actions. It was petty and hurtful, yet she carried herself as if she hadn’t changed everything for me.

"I don’t wish to harbor hate," I replied, my voice firm. "But I need time to heal."

Maliya laughed, though a part of me felt it was a reaction driven by insecurities. "I know. And it’s a challenge, but it’s something you will overcome."

As she left the room, I stood there, processing what had just happened. I looked at the mess on the floor—the food and the fragments of our former friendship. At that moment, I understood that my anger wasn’t solely directed at her. I needed to recognize the hurt I felt for trusting someone who ultimately betrayed that trust.

I couldn't change the past, but I could promise myself to work toward healing, to learn from this experience and emerge stronger. This was my journey, and I was determined to take the next step forward.