Torn Between Destinies-Chapter 30 - Thirty

Forgiveness is not a switch.

It’s not something you just flip one morning because your heart tells you it’s time.

If anything, it feels like dragging your soul across shattered glass—hoping that somehow, on the other side, the bleeding stops.

But my wolf didn’t care about pain.

She wanted him.

She howled for him when I tried to sleep. She stood restless at the edge of my skin whenever I passed the southern ridge where he trained. She tugged at me each time his scent brushed the wind.

**He’s still our mate.**

**He still loves us.**

But my human heart?

It remembered every cold stare.

Every lie of omission.

Every time I’d looked in his eyes and wondered if I was no longer enough.

I sat outside my cottage that night, wrapped in one of Elisa’s old wool shawls, staring up at the moon. It wasn’t full yet, but close. Its soft glow shimmered across the grass like it was trying to soothe me.

It didn’t help much.

Aira stepped outside quietly and joined me on the bench. Her hair was braided back, her posture more at ease since the transformation. She’d changed in ways I hadn’t fully understood yet. Stronger. Calmer. And somehow, more sure of herself.

"You’re not sleeping," she said softly.

I shook my head.

"Nightmares?"

"No. Just... thoughts."

She didn’t say anything at first. Just looked up at the sky with me.

"It’s hard," she said finally. "Letting go of anger."

My throat tightened. "I’m not sure I can."

"You don’t have to all at once," she said. "Sometimes forgiveness is something you practice. One day at a time."

"I don’t know how to look at him without remembering everything," I whispered. "The scent. The silence. The way he looked away when I needed him most."

Aira was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Do you still love him?"

I hesitated. "Yes. But it doesn’t feel safe to love him anymore."

She nodded slowly. "That’s fair."

"I just—" I swallowed. "My wolf wants him. She aches without him. But I’m scared. What if I let him back in and he hurts me again?"

Aira reached out and took my hand gently. "Then we make sure you don’t walk that road alone. If he’s meant to stay, he’ll fight for you every day. And if he doesn’t? You’ll still have us."

I didn’t realize I’d started crying until her thumb brushed a tear off my cheek.

"I hate this," I said. "This feeling of being torn in two."

"You’re not torn," she said. "You’re just healing. And healing doesn’t always look pretty."

I leaned into her shoulder, letting her warmth steady me.

We sat in silence for a while longer.

Eventually, she said, "You should talk to him again. Not for him—for you."

I nodded slowly, but didn’t speak.

The next morning, I woke up early and headed to the forest.

I needed space. And I needed to shift.

Running helped. It always had.

When I let my wolf take over, I didn’t have to think about broken trust or whispered apologies. I could just move. Breathe. Be.

The wind through my fur, the earth beneath my paws—it grounded me in a way nothing else could.

But even in the stillness of the trees, his scent drifted into my senses.

My wolf stilled.

He was near.

She wanted to run to him.

I made her wait.

I shifted back behind a thicket of moss-covered trees and dressed in the simple wrap I’d carried in my pack. My breath came faster than I expected. Maybe from the run. Maybe from the ache.

I walked slowly toward the edge of the clearing. That’s when I saw him.

Darius.

Sitting alone on a flat rock, elbows on his knees, staring into nothing.

He looked tired. Haunted. Like the weight of us had never left his shoulders.

I didn’t speak right away.

He sensed me anyway.

"I thought you might come," he said without turning.

"How?" I asked quietly.

"Because I haven’t stopped hoping."

I stepped closer. "I’m not here to fix anything."

"I know."

"I just need answers."

He turned then. His eyes found mine, steady but soft.

"I’ll give you whatever truth you ask for," he said.

So I sat down, leaving a space between us. It wasn’t much. But it was there.

"Why did you let it get that far?" I asked. "Why did you let someone else touch you and not even fight for me when I found out?"

His jaw tightened. "Because I didn’t know how to face you. I felt like I was drowning, and I blamed you for not noticing. That wasn’t fair. But it’s what I felt." freeweɓnovel.cøm

"You could’ve told me," I whispered. "I would’ve listened."

"I didn’t believe I deserved your kindness anymore."

His voice broke on that last word. I looked at him—and something inside me cracked.

Not enough to forgive.

But enough to understand.

"Do you love her?" I asked.

He looked me dead in the eyes. "No. I only love you."

The words came out too fast to sound rehearsed. And I didn’t smell any lie on them.

I sighed. "This isn’t easy."

"It shouldn’t be," he said. "Not after what I did. I’ll keep proving myself. For as long as it takes."

I studied his face. There was pain there, but also patience.

Maybe that’s what struck me most.

He wasn’t begging.

He wasn’t demanding.

He was just... waiting.

"I’m carrying your child," I said, placing a hand on my belly.

His eyes flickered with something close to awe. "I know. And that child will know how much I love them. No matter what happens with us."

I nodded.

A breeze moved through the trees, rustling leaves like whispered encouragement.

"I’m not ready to forgive you yet," I said. "But I don’t want to hate you either."

He nodded. "That’s enough for me."

We sat in silence again.

This time, it didn’t feel empty.

It felt like a bridge—quiet, fragile, but holding.

Before I left, I turned to him and said, "I don’t know what the Moon has planned. But I’ll try to stay open to whatever comes."

He gave a faint smile. "That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

I walked away then.

My wolf didn’t howl.

But she was quiet.

Listening.

And maybe, just maybe, she believed that forgiveness wasn’t a thing to be earned in one moment—but something we could build, piece by slow piece.

Not because he deserved it.

But because I deserved peace.

And maybe someday, love again.