303 The Story About the Scar
303 The Story About the Scar
Draven.1
I reached for the tissue box on the table, pulling one free and holding it out to her. “Here.”
She took it with a pout, blew her nose loudly, and shoved the crumpled tissue back into my hand. My brows
arched, but before I could react, she waved at the box impatiently. “Another one.”
Suppressing a sigh, I handed her a second. Then a third. She epted them likemands fulfilled, her
movements careless, her words tumbling freer now, unguarded.
“What happened?” My tone came low, controlled, but my chest was a storm as every part of me focused on
her alone. “Why are you crying?”
Her head tipped against the sofa, eyes half–lidded, her voice a slur of frustration and pain.
“I just found out…” She hupped softly, then pressed the tissue to her cheek. “…why my siblings hate me so
much.”
The words froze me. My body went still, my eyes narrowing as I studied her.
“Tell me,” I urged quietly, my tone sharper now, though controlled.
Her gaze flicked to mine, ssy and unfocused, yet filled with raw hurt. “Mabel… she told me.”
Meredith swallowed hard, clutching the tissue in her fist. “She said… they hated me because our parents only
loved me. Because I was the favorite. The pride. The perfect one.”
Her lips trembled, her voice dropping to a whisper as though the words cut her even now. “She said I was
selfish, arrogant… that I didn’t even care about them.”
Her words stumbled into silence.
I clenched my jaw, heat rushing to my chest at the thought of Mabel’s venom. My gaze softened only when it
returned to Meredith, my wife.
She let out a brokenugh, half–sob, and half–bitter. “I didn’t even know, Draven. I was a child. How could I
have known?” Another hup. “And still they… they hated me for it. All these years.
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303 The Story About the Scar
Her hand lifted clumsily to wipe her cheek, missing her tear entirely.
I caught it in mine before she could try again, steadying her trembling fingers with my own.
I didn’t try to press her further. I stayed still, my hand covering hers, anchoring her as she slumped against
the sofa.
The tissuesy forgotten in herp, damp and wrinkled.
A few momentster, she let out another shaky breath, her words tumbling out between hups.
“You know, all those years…” Her gaze flickered, unfocused, staring past me as though lost in another time.
“They–Mabel, Monique, Gary–they used to pinch me, hide my things, push me when no one was looking. I
thought…”
She gave a hollowugh and continued. “…I thought it was just pranks. Siblings being strict because of the age
gap. They were so much older than me. I told myself that’s why they didn’t y with me. Why they pushed
me away.”
Her fingers curled against mine, trembling. “But today, when Mabel said it all… I realized how stupidly
innocent I was. I was too blind to see the truth.”
My chest tightened, a low burn sparking in my gut. Each word made it clearer. Her childhood hadn’t been
filled with harmless distance, but with cruelty disguised as silence.
Meredith’s breath hitched. “And my parents…” Her voice softened, quivering. “…before the Lunar Curse, they
adored me. They never let me out of their sight. I was everything to them. Their little jewel. Their pride.”
A small sob caught in her throat, and she pressed her knuckles to her mouth. “And then, the curse came. Just like that, they changed. Their love, gone. Their warmth disappeared. I became the shame they punished.”
Her shoulders shook. “Especially my father… goddess, Draven, the way he used to scold me and punish me for
things I didn’t do, as if I had brought the curse on myself.”
Her words dissolved into tears again, spilling faster this time. She pressed the tissue to her cheek, smearing
rather than catching them.
Meredith had just reminded me of back then when I had gone to pick her up from her father’s house. She had
looked homeless, like she had been left to spend the night locked up in a chicken shed.
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303 The Story About the Scar
And maybe she had been.
Instantly, I felt my jaw lock, the muscles in my neck taut as steel. Rage simmered beneath my skin, but I kept
it buried, kept my voice quiet, and steady for her.
Because right now, she didn’t need anything from me other than my presence.
I brushed a tear from the corner of her eye with my thumb, my chest heavy as I watched her unravel piece by
piece. Inside, though, my thoughts were sharp and dark.
Her siblings had poisoned her childhood. Her parents had abandoned her when she needed them most. They
had left scars in her heart so deep that even now, she could barely breathe past them.
I thought of the promise I had madest night at dinner. To protect that smile. To never let anyone steal her
happiness again. Seeing her like this only carved that vow deeper into my soul.
But for now, I stayed silent, letting her vent, letting her pour out the years she had carried alone.
Meredith’s voice broke into the silence again, softer this time, but more piercing.
“Do you remember…” She sniffled, fumbling with the damp tissue. “…do you remember that scar I used to
have on my cheek? The one you kept asking about?”
My breath caught, my memory shing to the times I’d tried to coax the truth out of her, only for her to avoid <ol><li>jt. </li></ol>
I nodded slowly. “Yes. I remember.”
Her lips twisted into something like a bitter smile. “I never answered you. Well… here is the story.”
My chest tightened instantly as nothing prepared me for the truth no matter how much I had tried to guess
back then.
I watched my wife’s gaze grow distant and clouded with pain as she spoke. “One afternoon, back in school… a boy cornered me while I was in the restroom. He-” her voice wavered, “…he tried to force himself on me.”
I froze. The air in my chest turned sharp, slicing me open from the inside.
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