Chapter 6
229words
Roof leaked, no heating in winter, wallpaper moldy.
One day when Alaric went out, I secretly followed him.
He went door to door looking for work, his voice low and pleading, only to be shoved away time after time.
Stood on a corner, walked to the supermarket as if nothing happened, picked through expired bread in the discount section, argued with the clerk over a few pence.
I stood ten meters away, feeling like a criminal.
Moldy wallpaper and stale bread—that was my life. It was never meant to be his.
He was born to be Thornfield Pack's Alpha heir, werewolf royalty.
Now he was trapped in East End squalor because of me, begging for scraps.
Such fierce devotion—and I couldn't think of a single thing about me worthy of it.
That night I suggested we break up.
"Tired of slumming it with me?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Liar." Alaric's eyes flashed gold. "Even if I end up collecting garbage for a living, you're stuck with me!"
He kissed me fiercely.
"Break up? Don't you dare even think about it!"
I'd always wondered why the Thornfield Pack never cut off my art commissions.
In that moment, I finally understood.
They wanted Alaric and me to struggle.
To watch our love slowly suffocate under the weight of poverty.
