redith.
Mabel jabbed her finger toward .
"...while you could do no wrong. You didn’t even notice, did you? You just basked in their love, in their praise. And we, your siblings, were nothing but shadows behind you."
Her words cut into , sharp and unrelenting. My chest squeezed, and for a mont I couldn’t breathe. I’d never... I’d never thought of things that way.
Back then, I was just a child. How could I have known?
Still, Mabel wasn’t done. Her eyes glistened, though anger burned hotter than anything else.
"And when the Lunar Curse marked you, when our parents finally stopped worshipping you, we rejoiced. Finally. Finally, you were no longer their precious darling. Finally, their eyes weren’t only on you."
The scissors slipped from my fingers, landing softly on the table. My hands trembled against my lap.
So that was it.
All these years, I thought their hatred was because of the curse. Because I was wolfless. Because I was a sha to the family. But no, this hate ran far deeper that I had imagined.
Mabel’s voice snapped back before I could dwell deeply about things from the past.
"You were prideful, selfish, and arrogant. You never cared about us. You only cared about yourself, and were more interested in the praises you daily received."
Her words hit harder than any other accusations could.
My lips parted, but no words ca. How could I defend myself against mories I couldn’t even rember clearly?
I had been a child. Just a child. I didn’t know any of this. I didn’t see it.
And yet, from the way Mabel’s anger burned, I knew she believed every word she was saying.
I swallowed hard, my chest tight, my hands trembling in my lap. The sting of Mabel’s words burrowed deep, dragging up a pain I hadn’t known existed.
But just then, sothing sharper pushed through the hurt and the anger swirling inside of .
My voice ca out low at first. "I was a child." I lifted my gaze to hers, my throat thick but steady.
"Do you hear yourself? I didn’t know any of this. How could I? I was too young to even understand the way our parents treated us differently. You think I asked to be their favorite? You think I understood what was happening back then?"
Mabel’s jaw tightened, but I didn’t stop. I wouldn’t let her words drag down into guilt I didn’t deserve.
I rose slowly from my seat, keeping my eyes locked on hers as I let my voice grow firr, and stronger.
"Sha on you. Sha on Monique, and sha on Gary. You were all older, smarter, and definitely more experienced. And yet instead of protecting your little sister, you chose to hate her, and treat her like dirt."
Her nostrils flared, her lips parting, but I cut her off.
"Mabel, you are seven years older than . Seven." My words shook with anger now. "Are you not ashad? All of you—jealous of a child who didn’t even know her left from her right? What does that say about you? About the kind of hearts you carry?"
Her eyes flickered, but I pressed on, my voice sharp, unwavering. "It shows how black, how wicked your hearts are. To be jealous of your own blood—jealous of a child."
The silence between us was thick, heavy. I could already feel my own pulse racing in my throat.
Then, I leaned forward slightly, my voice dropping low, every word deliberate.
"And you—standing here, confessing it so freely. Do you not feel even a shred of sha? Do you not realize what you are admitting about yourself? About the others? About the monsters you’ve all chosen to beco?"
Mabel’s face had lost so of its color, her arrogance, completely replaced by anger and shock.
Not sparing a mont longer for her emotions, I let out a shaky breath, my voice steady but weighted with finality.
"If you and the others are desperate to find a reason for your wickedness, if you’re looking for soone to bla for all the hate you’ve carried all these years, then bla our parents. Not ."
Mabel’s lips parted, but no sound ca out. Her face stiffened, and for once, she had no words.
I didn’t give her a chance to recover. I turned on my heel and walked away, my heart pounding against my ribs as my hands shook at my sides from the storm boiling inside .
Just as I rounded the corner, I nearly bumped into Deidra, who was balancing a jug of water in her hands.
Her eyes widened as she steadied herself, her worried gaze imdiately sweeping over .
"My lady—" she whispered, her voice low, careful. "Is everything alright?"
I swallowed, forcing my expression into sothing calm, sothing she wouldn’t question. "Go ahead and arrange the flowers in a vase," I said with a tone clipped. "And send them to my bedroom."
Her lips parted, as though she wanted to say more, but I didn’t let her. I stepped past her before she could ask another question.
The further I walked, the heavier the ache in my chest grew. Mabel’s words replayed in my head, sharp and bitter.
All these years, I had believed their hatred for was on sothing else. But hearing the truth in Mabel’s anger, really cut deeper.
They had hated long before the curse. They had hated because I had been loved.
I pressed a hand over my chest, blinking fast as a heat stung the back of my eyes. I didn’t want tears. I refused to cry for them.
Still, the weight of it was unbearable. The thought that my own blood had despised since I was a child, that jealousy had poisoned their hearts so much they could never see as their sister.
I quickened my pace, desperate to be alone, to breathe.
Because right now, if anyone so much as asked what was wrong, I feared the storm inside would spill out.
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