The Three Who Chose Me-Chapter 133: Shattered Words

Josie

My chest tightened as the words left my mouth before I could stop them. "Varen... you don’t want to get married to me?" The question came out breathless, shaky, like I was terrified of what he might answer.

His eyes, sharp and unyielding, snapped to mine. "Don’t change the conversation, Josie." His voice was rough, clipped, carrying the kind of edge that sliced right through my nerves.

I felt my throat close up, but I forced myself to take a deep breath. My lungs burned as if the air itself had grown heavy. Beside me, Marcy gave a small, knowing sigh and touched my arm gently.

"Sort things out," she whispered, her voice calm and grounding. "I’ll be right outside."

I turned to her, my head bobbing in a nervous nod. My lips moved silently in gratitude, though the knot in my stomach refused to loosen. When she slipped out, shutting the door softly behind her, I was left alone with him—alone with the storm brewing in his eyes.

The silence between us stretched, unbearable. I swallowed hard and finally said, "Could we... maybe sit and talk about things?" My voice wavered despite my best effort to keep it steady.

Varen’s jaw flexed, his teeth gritting audibly. His shoulders stiffened as if sitting down was a battle he wasn’t sure he wanted to fight. But after a pause, he lowered himself into the chair across from me.

I busied my trembling hands by pouring him a cup of tea, the faint clink of ceramic against ceramic betraying how shaken I was. I slid the cup toward him with a hopeful glance, but he didn’t even reach for it. The untouched tea sat between us like another wall.

"Answer my questions," Varen finally said, his tone stripped of warmth. His eyes pinned me in place. "Because I need to understand what the truth is."

The intensity of his stare made my pulse stutter. I clenched my fingers together under the table, my palms damp, before lifting my gaze back to him. My voice came soft, almost pleading.

"I know the move... it was shitty," I admitted, forcing the words out even though shame pressed against my ribs. "But I didn’t have any other option at the time. I just—" My throat bobbed as I tried to gather the courage. "I just wanted to feel as much happiness as I could. And the only way I thought that could happen was... with the announcement."

His eyes darkened, his lips parting in disbelief. "You don’t know what you’re talking about." His tone was sharp, biting. "You can’t make such an important decision just because you wanted to be happy." His hand curled into a fist on the table. "Did you even try to know what I wanted? Or what my brothers wanted? No. You just went along with whatever you thought up in your head."

The sting of his words burned hot in my chest. I felt the defensiveness rise, unbidden, like a shield. "I would have married you anyway!" My voice broke but grew stronger with each word. "Because we’re mates. All of us. And in retrospect—" I swallowed, glaring at him through my hurt. "I gave you enough time."

Varen’s head shook, a humorless scoff escaping him. "Enough time?" His eyes blazed with frustration. "Josie, there hasn’t been enough time to do anything. If you had given us enough time, we would’ve thought of something by now. But as usual, you never wanted to think about anyone other than yourself, and—"

He stopped himself mid-sentence, but the damage was done. His voice still rang in my ears, cutting deep.

Something inside me snapped. "Are you serious right now?" I screamed, my voice raw, shaking the walls of the room. "How many times do I have to apologize, Varen? I’ve said sorry over and over, and you keep throwing the same thing back in my face! Do you think that doesn’t get old? Because it does—it’s seriously getting old!"

For once, he was silent. His silence wasn’t calm—it was thick, weighted, almost suffocating.

My chest rose and fell rapidly, and my voice softened, though it trembled. "I’m a she-wolf, Varen. I have feelings too." My hands clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms. "And I don’t appreciate it when they’re trampled on like I don’t matter. Because I do. My feelings matter."

He opened his mouth, about to speak, but I couldn’t take another word from him. I turned toward the door. "Marcy!" My voice cracked.

The door opened almost instantly, as though she had been waiting. She stepped inside, her expression conflicted. Varen shifted, rising as if he were ready to leave.

But Marcy lifted her hand. "I can’t help it," she admitted, guilt flashing in her eyes. "I eavesdropped."

"Marcy!" I cried, my cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

She held up a hand, shaking her head. "I know I shouldn’t have done that. But it’s a delicate situation, Josie. And you—" Her gaze slid to Varen. "You just said things because you’re not comfortable with your gift. But still..."

"Marcy—" I tried again, but she ignored me.

She turned fully to Varen, her eyes sharp. "For someone who always complains about being in the last position in a girl’s life, you sure don’t do much to make yourself the first."

Her words landed like a blade.

I froze, stunned into silence. My lips parted, but no sound came out. I wanted to apologize to him again, to somehow make the bleeding stop before it grew worse, but the look on his face was already unraveling.

His body shook with fury, his eyes blazing with something raw and pained. Without a word, he spun on his heel and stormed out, the door slamming shut so hard the walls rattled.

The room fell quiet except for the wild pounding of my heart. I turned to Marcy, my voice cracking as the panic settled in. "What did you do?"