That night, Kiara waited.
She stayed in the living room long after the house went quiet, sitting on the edge of the couch with her phone on her lap. The lights were off. Only the faint glow from the hallway light stretched across the floor. She listened to the sounds she knew too well—the distant hum of the generator, the soft tick of the clock, the low murmur of voices fading as doors closed.
She waited until she knew Elena would beasleep.
Only then did she stand.
Her steps were careful as she walked to her daughter's room. She pushed the door open slowly, as if afraid even the sound of breathing too loudly might wake her. The nightlight cast a dim glow over the bed. Elena lay curled on her side, one arm tucked beneath her cheek, her face calm and untroubled.
Kiara stood there for a long moment.
The untouched plate on the bedside table caught her eye. The food she had prepared with such care sat cold and forgotten. Her chest tightened painfully. She reached out and brushed her fingers lightly over Elena's hair.
"So you didn't even try it," she whispered, her voice breaking despite herself.
She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her daughter's head. Elena stirred but did not wake.
"I hope you'll be happy," Kiara murmured, tears finally slipping free. "Even if it's without me."
Her throat closed around the words. She stayed there longer than she should have, memorizing the curve of Elena's face, the sound of her breathing. Then she stood before she could change her mind.
She closed the door gently behind her.
Her phone vibrated in her hand as she walked down the hallway. She looked at the screen.
Her mother had replied. She texted her an hour ago.
'Thank heavens.
We've been waiting for you. Everyone is so happy you're coming home. Come back safely.'
Kiara stopped walking.
Her vision blurred as relieved tears filled her eyes again, but this time they came with something warmer—something steadier. After everything, after all her mistakes and stubborn choices, there was still a place where she was wanted.
She wiped her face and drew in a slow breath.
Then she turned toward Gerald's room.
She didn't knock.
The door opened to a sight she had tried for months not to imagine.
Gerald was with Nola, wrapped around her with a hunger that made Kiara's stomach twist. They were going at it like it was their first time in a long time, there was a hunger in their eyes. They looked startled, then annoyed.
Gerald straightened first. "What do you want?" he asked sharply.
Kiara's voice was calm when she spoke, surprising even herself. "I'm resigning from the company. And I'm done with this marriage."
The room went quiet.
"What?" Gerald scoffed. "Are you serious?"
"Yes," she said simply. "The papers will be on the table in the morning. I'll be gone before sunrise."
He stood up fully then, his expression hard. "You can leave if you want. But you'll leave with nothing. No money. No property. And no child."
"I know," Kiara replied calmly. "I don't need your money."
It was the truth. She had never married him for that. Her inheritance still waited untouched, far away from this house and everything it had become.
"So you don't care about Elena?" he pressed, his voice hard. "You're just abandoning her? Your daughter?"
A bitter sound escaped her, halfway between a laugh and a sob. "She doesn't love me anymore," she said quietly. "She won't miss me, she'll be busy being obsessed with Nola."
"That's your choice then," Gerald gritted out. "But don't dare tell my parents anything, understood? If they call, say nothing. I'll handle it."
She nodded. "Fine."
She turned to leave.
Behind her, Nola's voice followed, sharp and cruel. "You really think you'll find anyone else? You're scentless. Barren. No man will want you."
"Enough," Gerald snapped suddenly. "Stop it."
Kiara didn't turn back.
She walked out of the room, down the hallway, and out of the house she had once believed would be her forever. The night air wrapped around her as she stepped outside, cool and steady.
For the first time in a long while, she didn't look back.
The early morning light crept quietly into the house as Kiara placed the divorce papers on the table.
She aligned the envelope carefully, straightening it twice even though it was already neat. Her suitcase stood by the door, zipped and silent, holding the pieces of a life she was leaving behind. For a moment, she simply stood there, her hands hanging by her sides, her chest rising and falling slowly.
This was it.
She did not cry. She had cried enough the night before. Today, her emotions sat heavy but controlled, like a storm locked behind glass.
When she stepped outside, the cool air brushed against her skin—and she stopped short.
Gerald was waiting.
He stood beside his car, already dressed for the day, keys in his hand. The sight of him there, calm and prepared, unsettled her more than anger would have. He had not waited for her like this in years. Not for breakfast. Not for work. Not even when she was sick.
"I'll drop you off," he said, shocking her further.
"No," Kiara replied at once. "I'll get a cab."
"I said I'll drop you," he insisted, his voice hardening. There was no warmth in it, only control.
She looked at him for a long second. Arguing would only drain what little strength she had left. Slowly, she nodded.
"Fine."
The ride was painfully quiet.
No music. No casual conversation. Not even an argument. Just silence stretching between them, thick and uncomfortable. The city moved past the windows, buildings blurring into one another, but Kiara barely registered any of it.
Instead, memories crept in.
She remembered when this seat used to feel different. When Gerald would reach over and rest his hand on her thigh, squeezing gently as if reminding her she was there. When he would ask her opinion on small things, laugh at her comments, call her beautiful just because the sunlight touched her face a certain way.
Now, that same seat had become Nola's place.
Kiara's throat tightened. Her eyes burned, but she stared straight ahead, refusing to let the tears fall. She reminded herself—she had endured worse. She would not unravel now.
The car slowed and eventually stopped.
Her family house stood before her, unchanged. The gate. The driveway. The walls she had once run from with reckless confidence, believing love would be enough.
Gerald turned to her.
"So," he said, breaking the silence at last. "You're really doing this?"
She did not answer immediately.
"I can still take you back," he continued. "We can go home right now."
Home.
The word landed wrong. Heavy. Empty.
"You know no alpha will want you after me," he added, his tone sharp, almost cruel. "You're scentless. Undesirable. Or what—are you hoping to marry the alpha your family wanted you with back then?"
Kiara stiffened just as he laughed loudly.
"Now, even you aren't that stupid to even consider that, cause you know he'll never take you back, not even as a slave," Gerald went on. "You ran away from him years ago. Don't delude yourself."
The words stirred something deep inside her.
A memory surfaced, uninvited.
The night she ran away on her wedding day, heart pounding, suitcase clutched tightly as she chose Gerald over her family. The strange text message that had come in shortly after from an unknown number.
Unknown number: You just ran away from your future husband, little bird. Mark my words, you'll come back once you're done wandering. But by then, you'll crawl on your knees while begging me to take you back."
She had been shocked out of her soul back then. She remembered those words clearly. It sounded so scary and unnerving.
She had not thought of it in years.
"I didn't think that," Kiara said quietly. "And I know he's married by now."
Thankfully.
"Then return with me," Gerald snapped. "Stop this nonsense."
She finally turned to face him fully.
"You don't want me back," she said, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. "You want your employee back. Someone to carry your workload while you take the praise."
His jaw clenched, but she did not stop.
"Our marriage ended a year ago," she continued. "I stayed for Elena. I stayed even when you stopped seeing me. But she doesn't want me anymore."
Her voice wavered for just a second, then steadied again.
"And I will never return to a marriage where I am absolutely nothing."
His eyes hardened.
"You'll regret this," he said coldly.
Kiara shook her head slowly. "I don't think so."
She opened the door and stepped out before he could say anything else. The car drove away almost immediately, tires crunching softly against the gravel, disappearing down the road without a backward glance.
She stood there alone for a moment.
Her legs trembled slightly, but she stayed upright. She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and drew in a deep breath. The house before her felt both familiar and foreign, like a place she once knew well but had outgrown.
Then the front door opened.
Her mother rushed out first, her face crumpling the moment she saw Kiara.
"Kiara," her mother whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace.
The warmth broke something inside her.
"You're home," her mother said softly. "You're finally home."
Kiara closed her eyes.
For the first time in a very long time, she allowed herself to lean on someone else. And for the first time in years, she did not feel like she had to fight to deserve a place.