Chapter 5
Over the next few days, Dorian didn’t come home, only occasionally appearing on Lacey’s social media.
While packing, I accidentally found another phone of Dorian. Its contents chilled my already calm heart to the bone.
While the two flaunted their inseparable bond online, I quietly. Then I began sorting through the house.
We’d been together for ten years.
The shared memories were overwhelming.
He once saved up six months‘ worth of allowance to buy the best camera, always begging and coaxing me to let him take my picture, saying every day of ours was precious and worth capturing.
But since Lacey came back, even during the Winter Moon Festival, when I wanted a photo together, he called me childish and brushed my hand away.
Yet, Lacey’s social media would soon show their cheek–to–cheek selfies.
I was deaf and blind to the heart, missing such blatant provocations.
After gathering thousands of photos, I burned them all to ashes, the firelight reflecting on my face, just like the day my parents left.
Eight days before the wedding, Dorian returned. He looked exhausted.
The moment he pushed open the door, he frowned at me. “Why does the house seem so
empty?”
I didn’t respond.
He didn’t care enough to dwell on such trivial matters, instead smiling as he asked, “Have you picked out the wedding dress?”
I nodded, and a smug glint flashed in his
eyes. “Good.”
Then he headed to the bathroom to wash up.
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I noticed his running shoes by the entrance.
Checking them, I saw they were identical to the ones Lacey posted on social media that night, except hers were the women’s version.
Her caption read: Rushing toward our happiness soon.
The next morning, Dorian went to the Pack Hall as usual to handle pack affairs.
Looking at the home I’d decorated, now stark and empty, I let out a long breath.
I’d cleared myself out so cleanly–surely that wouldn’t interfere with their rush to happiness, right?
The night before the Mate Bonding Ceremony, Dorian’s friend called me.
He was drunk, and they asked me to pick him up.
When I arrived, his friends teased him. “Dorian, your little deaf girl’s here to take you
home.”
Lacey’s laughter was exaggerated as she pushed Dorian off her, feigning concern in a shrill voice. “Oh, you guys, don’t bully the disabled!”
She leaned close to Dorian’s ear. “Dorian, Mireya’s here.”
Reeking of alcohol, Dorian stumbled over, shaking my shoulders roughly. “Mireya! Why didn’t you die with your parents in that fire?!”
“You’re so pathetic! I’ve already agreed to marry you, and you still follow me around like a lapdog!”
I was ready to leave, thinking nothing I saw or heard could stir my heart anymore.
But now, rage and grief made my heart tremble.
“Dorian.” Suppressing my emotions, I softly called his name.
Taking a deep breath, I looked at him steadily. “I won’t be a dog anymore.”
The drunken haze in Dorian’s eyes cleared instantly. He stared at me, shocked and uncertain. “You…”
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Before he could process, Lacey deliberately sidled up, smirking provocatively. “Dorian,
are you leaving with me or Mireya?”
Her interruption broke his train of thought.
Ignoring everything else, he shoved me aside and, acting like a drunken fool, wrapped his arm around Lacey’s waist. “Of course it’s you. How could a deaf girl compare?”
The push sent me crashing into the table’s edge, a sharp pain shooting through my
knee.
His friends in the booth roared with laughter, watching me struggle to get up from the
floor.
Words like “deaf,” “clown,” and “cripple” pierced my ears.
Dorian’s expression remained unchanged, not a trace of anger on his face.
I thought, if it were me, even if it was a stranger with a disability being mocked by such
beasts, I wouldn’t stand by.
Let alone someone I’d been with for ten years.
My disappointment in him reached its peak.
Grabbing a bottle, I smashed it over the head of the loudest laugher. “Is mocking a disabled person something to be proud of?”
“What?” The man stared at me, dumbfounded.
Glass shards scattered as they sat stunned.
I turned to Dorian, sneering. “You’re nothing but a mutt. And you think I’d beg you for scraps?”
Then I limped out of the booth.
From inside, angry shouts erupted, someone calling my name.
Who was it? It didn’t matter. Let the beasts feast on each other–I’m done playing human among them.
Chapter 5
