Fifteen years ago, I gave up my womb so my mate could become Alpha.

The elders said the curse would follow his bloodline unless a life was offered.

So, I gave up my chance to ever have children.

He swore before the Moon Goddess and the entire Nightshade Pack.

“As long as she lives, my mate will lack nothing.”

Fifteen years passed. I never asked for anything.

Not when I bled for three weeks after the ritual.

Not when I screamed through the night, womb burning with phantom contractions.

Not even when I watched our only child die hours after birth, too little to cry.

But today, I thought maybe it was time for Alpha Edwin to keep his promise.

“It’s our mating anniversary, Edwin.”

He didn’t look up from his tablet. His fingers continued scrolling, flicking through pages of war reports like I wasn’t even speaking.

“We marked. You became Luna. That was the promise.”

I stood there, clutching the delicate bracelet in a velvet pouch—the precious diamond band woven with moonstones and pearls.

I spent my entire Luna salary getting this, I thought it might mean something. To him. To us.

“It’s been fifteen years,” I whispered. “I thought maybe we could visit the Moonstone Sanctum. Just the two of us.”

He scoffed, and then came the laughter, cold and bitter.

“The Sanctum?” he finally looked at me, his eyes empty of warmth. “You want to chase some goddess myth while the pack bleeds?”

His voice sliced through the air, sharp enough to cut bone.

“You want to waste what’s left of our resources on a fantasy trip? While the warriors are starving? While the healers ration herbs? Do you even care?”

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, venom dripping from every syllable.

“Or do you think giving up your womb bought you a lifetime pass to be useless?”

His words didn’t shout—but they thundered.

“I just…” I started, my voice brittle, eyes lowered. “I just wanted something. Anything. For fifteen years, I stayed behind these walls. I gave up everything. We never even had a real mating ceremony. Just the mark, the Luna title, the obligations. I thought maybe now—”

“Selene,” he cut in, voice flat, dead-eyed. “In fifteen years, have you ever lacked anything? Even when you’ve been practically worthless?”

I flinched.

But he wasn’t finished.

“You sit in this house like a piece of furniture. Look at Laura—your adopted sister. Three years younger, already a senior exec, raising a child on her own, glowing like someone with purpose. And you? You’ve gotten fat. You won’t even go to the gym. What exactly do you think you deserve?”

The wineglass trembled in my hand, a fragile echo of the storm inside me.

Then it slipped. Time slowed as it crashed against the marble floor, shards scattering like my shattered hope.

I stood frozen, the cold silence swallowing the room.

The sharp click of heels sliced through the quiet as my mother stormed out from the inner room.

Her eyes, dark and unforgiving, locked onto me like a predator sizing its prey.

“What now?” she snapped, voice thick with contempt. “Is it this barren girl again, begging for attention?”

She glanced down at the broken glass, then back up, her gaze full of disgust and disappointment.

“You can’t give me grandchildren, yet here you are, disturbing my precious son-in-law. God, Selene. Even Laura, your younger sister is smarter, more successful, more beautiful. She has a child. And you? Nothing but an empty womb and a whining mouth.”

Her words hit me like ice shards, slicing through my chest. I wanted to speak, to defend myself, but my throat tightened, burning with tears I refused to shed.

She didn’t relent. Her voice sharpened, cruel and relentless.

“I should’ve let you die when you fell sick as a child. You’ve always been a problem. The biggest regret of my life.”

A dull ache spread in my chest, like a slow poison.

Edwin raised his hand, awkward and unsure. “Mother, please. We’re just having a normal couple disagreement—”

“Normal?” Her laugh was a harsh blade. “There’s nothing normal about a nagging, ungrateful wife. You’ve given her everything, and she’s done nothing but disappoint. Look at her—ugly, unsophisticated, still no child. You should’ve married Laura. She would’ve made you happy.”

My legs weakened. I felt the weight of their words pressing me into the cold floor.

My heart clenched tight, each breath shallow, stinging like a fresh wound.

Not a single word of defense from my mother. Not even a flicker of pity.

Instead, she laughed alongside Edwin, their shared cruelty wrapping around me like a suffocating fog.

Then, sudden, sharp pain exploded through my foot as I stepped on the shattered glass. Warm blood quickly seeped beneath my heel, sticky and spreading like an open wound—both inside and out.

But my mother laughed, cold and cruel, her voice cutting through the air alongside Edwin’s. Neither of them even glanced at me.

“She’s always been clumsy,” my mother sneered, eyes glinting with disdain. “A useless waste of space.”

Edwin’s voice was quiet but filled with venom. “Laura would’ve been a better wife. Selene’s just… available.”

My hands trembled as I sank to my knees, gathering the glass shards. Each movement sent sharp pain through my foot, but I forced myself to move. Red footprints stained the marble as I limped away—unseen and ignored.

No one helped.

In my room, I locked the door and peeled off my bloody sock.

There it was, a cruel shard embedded deep in my flesh.

Gritting my teeth, I yanked it free. Pain exploded through my leg, and I couldn’t stop the scream—yet no one came.

I poured methylated spirits on the wound. The burning made tears fall, but I swallowed them down.

Wrapping the injury with shaking hands, I caught my reflection: dark circles, dull skin, a face worn by years of silent pain. At thirty-five, I looked decades older.

Still, I baked the red velvet cake Edwin once liked.

He took a bite, spat it into the sink, and sneered,

“What is this? Rotten tomatoes? Are you trying to poison me?”

“I—I’ll change the cake,” I said softly, reaching for the plate before he could push it further toward the sink.

Edwin dropped his fork with a loud clatter that made me flinch.

“Really, Selene?” His tone cut straight through me. “Still upset about the Sanctum thing? This is your idea of retaliation? Serving me this mess? You didn’t even try.”

He pushed the half-cut cake away with a look of disdain. “This is supposed to be your job”

Your job.

That phrase echoed louder than his accusation.

To him, that was all it was.

Keeping the pack house perfect. Making sure everything stayed smooth and presentable for him.

He never noticed the calendar reminders I set for warrior rotations, the budget approvals for the new daycare.

The late nights I spent balancing the pack’s funds, the scholarship program I managed for wolves studying in the human world.

The broken surveillance system I helped fix after the border glitch, or the mental health sessions I arranged for the she-wolves after the last rogue attack.

To him, I was the Luna who forgot his favorite dessert.

I forced the words out, holding the plate tighter. “It’s the same cake you’ve always liked. I used the Belgian cocoa you love and the recipe your mom taught me”

Edwin scoffed. “That doesn’t change the fact that it tastes like disappointment.”

I swallowed hard, the taste of shame coating my tongue.

I used to think life was about love. But I was just a convenient piece of trash used and discarded when no longer needed.

My sister stopped talking to me for no reason. My mate always belittled me and my mother reminded me I was a mistake, never like her perfect daughter, Laura.

I sacrificed myself without thinking about the cost.

Now I’m just a lonely woman with an emotionally absent husband, waiting for my light to die out.

The door swung open. High heels clicked sharply, and Laura’s scent filled the room.

She walked in with a smile and called out,

“Who wants dessert? Red velvet cake, anyone?”

Laura, of course. Confident, successful, her face was on billboards across the city. She wore ambition like perfume and carried herself like someone who always knew the world would bow for her.

She was the daughter our mother loved, the one she was proud to show off.

She walked in holding her son, all smiles.

“I just brought him to greet his father,” she said. “He’s been moody all week, even after the vacation his dad took him on.”

Her husband rushed to hug their son. My mother lit up instantly, showering Laura with praises.

“I heard about the new deal with the prestigious wolf company in Texas, my brilliant girl!”

Edwin, lounging at the table, lifted his head. “Any chance I could get a slice of that red velvet cake?”

Laura served him a piece, and he devoured it like it was heaven-sent.

“Now this is cake,” he said with a full mouth. “Not like that poison some people make.”

My eyes dropped to the burn on my hand—still raw from flipping my cake pan too quickly.

Then Edwin said, “Let’s go out. A Chinese restaurant just opened. My treat.”

Mother beamed. “Oh! There’s a dish on that menu I’ve been dying to try.”

Rowan, Laura’s son, turned to me. “Aunt Selene, aren’t you coming too?”

Before I could speak, Edwin laughed.

“She? Come on. Selene dropped out of college. She won’t get what we’ll be discussing, real business talk.”

Rowan paused at the door, eyes flicking toward me. “I’ll pack you something,” he muttered, barely meeting my gaze.

Then he followed them laughing, excitedly like I was never even there.

They didn’t say goodbye.

I stood there, tears slipping down before I could stop them.

The house reeked of burnt food and artificial red velvet flavouring. I sat down and reached for the same cake Edwin rejected.

I took one bite and spat it out.

It was dry, dense and tasteless.

I forgot the eggs. And the milk. God. I hadn’t even realized.

I wasn’t even present. I was here, but not really. Somewhere between surviving and disappearing.

Then I tasted the cake Laura brought.

It was soft, sweet and familiar.

Just like Edwin’s mother’s recipe.

And it hit me.

He gave it to her. The one recipe he used to call special, that I spent years learning just to be perfect for him.

I looked around the living room, eyes scanning the walls. Not one picture of me.

Edwin said I didn’t “fit the aesthetic.” Said I was too fat, and said I’d ruin the look of the house.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced the cake down.

Then I cleaned the table. Washed every single plate. Wiped the counter. Sprayed his favorite air freshener lavender and cedarwood because that’s how he liked the house to smell when he came home.

Then I went upstairs.

The bedroom felt colder than usual.

I hadn’t truly shared this space with him in over six years. And the last time he touched me he moaned Laura’s name in his sleep.

I undressed slowly, slid into the bathtub. The water stung my skin, hot and too quiet. I whispered to the ceiling,

“I did this to myself.”

Maybe if I hadn’t loved so hard. Maybe if I didn’t keep giving pieces of myself to people who never gave back… maybe I’d still recognize the woman in the mirror.

If I didn’t keep handing out pieces of my soul to those who treated it like scraps.

Maybe… just maybe, I wouldn’t feel so hollow now.

And as their laughter echoed from the driveway, I reached for the razor.

Watching the blood color the water, soft and slow, like the night I held my baby and watched the light fade from his tiny eyes, something in me died that night.

And I cried. For him. For me.

For everything I used to be before I stopped mattering.

I woke up sore, my body aching from crying myself to sleep.

But today, I wanted something different. To dress up, go out, maybe even leave the pack for a few days. Just… breathe.

I walked to my wardrobe, straight to the corner where I kept the few things that were truly mine.

Not Edwin’s. Not the pack’s. Mine.

I’d saved for years—my Luna allowance, cash gifts from grateful pack members, the little I earned from homeschooling young wolves and selling written guides online.

That’s how I bought it. My Hermes Birkin 30. Over three hundred thousand dollars. My dream bag.

I reached for the box.

It was gone.

My heart skipped. I opened and closed every drawer, checked every box twice. Gone. The bag was gone.

No one had access to the wardrobe except me and Edwin.

I stormed into his study, not caring that he was on a call. “Where’s my Birkin?” I asked, breathless. “The new one. The one I kept inside the wardrobe.”

He frowned, lowering the phone slightly. “What the hell, Selene? No knocking?”

“I asked you a question,” I snapped.

He sighed like I was being dramatic. “I gave it to Laura. She’s been stressed lately. Deserved something nice.”

My chest tightened. “You… gave it to Laura?” My voice shook. “That was mine, Edwin. I saved for years. Why would you do that?”

He set the phone down, annoyed. “Because she’s the mother of my son. The heir to my throne and she deserves to look the part, something you could never understand.”

The words sliced through me, but I held my ground.

“Then buy her her own. Or collect it back. That bag wasn’t yours to give.”

He scoffed. “Are you out of your mind? You don’t deserve things like that, Selene. You wear it, and people will think some housemaid stole her madam’s bag.”

I felt my knees weaken.

“You’re old. Ugly. Bitter. That womb of yours is sealed shut, and no matter what you wear or carry you’ll never be her. So stop trying to relive what’s already dead. Count your days quietly.”

I slammed my fist on the table. “I bought that bag with my own money!”

Edwin laughed, cold and cruel.

“Your own money? Where exactly? Since when do you have money? Unless you’ve been sleeping with men behind my back.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat.

I thought of the long nights tutoring kids for their exams, the sleepless hours helping college students with projects.

The marital guides I painstakingly wrote and sold online.

Every coin I earned was from my own sweat and pain.

I never asked him for a thing—not for myself, only for the pack and family.

And now, he gave it away like I was nothing.

Edwin’s eyes narrowed, trying to focus on the papers in front of him. “Why are you staring at me like that? Stop nagging. I’ll grab you some $15 bag from the roadside later.”

My voice trembled. “Do you still love me?”

He snapped without looking up, “Stop the drama. Be grateful for once. You should be licking Laura’s shoes, she’s doing things you never will. Now hurry up, I’ve got a hangover, and I want some pepper soup.”

I turned away slowly, embarrassed. My feet felt heavy—too numb to carry me.

I didn’t know what hurt more: the stolen bag or the silence when I asked if he still loved me.

Edwin stopped me at the door. “I’m attending a pack event. Other Alphas will be there. Then a business conference after. Should give you a break from taking care of me—for two weeks.”

Later that afternoon, the whole family gathered for lunch. Rowan, his son, accidentally blurted out, “Dad, when will my suits for the events be ready? And my beach clothes?”

I glanced at Edwin, surprised. “I thought it was just an event for adults.”

“It is,” Edwin said. “But it’s compulsory Rowan attends, he has to learn the ropes of becoming an Alpha someday.”

Rowan then asked, “Aunt, what do you want me to get you?”

“A hairband would be nice,” I said quietly.

My mother, sitting beside me, slapped my hand and scolded,

“Do you even know how wrong it is to make a child talk at the table? If you had a child, you’d know how to take care of one.”

I muttered an apology, forcing a weak smile. The hurt had dulled, leaving only a hollow ache inside.

That night, as I packed Edwin’s things for the trip, a folded paper slipped from his pocket.

I almost tossed it aside but caught myself and unfolded it.

My legs went weak.

On the cover was a pre-wedding photo of Edwin and Laura.

Wedding?

I blinked as if that'd change what I was seeing, but their smiles didn't vanish.

My hands trembled as I read the details — the same Moonstone Sanctum I’d begged him to visit for our anniversary.

The venue, the events, the honeymoon plans. Then, the guest list.

Everyone was invited. My mother, our son, the pack elders — all in on it, except me.

No one said a word.

I covered my mouth, choking back a scream. My chest tightened; it felt like my heart was breaking.

Fifteen years of sacrifice, and now I was nothing but a fool — a forgotten shadow in their lives.