Chapter 2

Waverly Bell left her house and headed straight for the kitchen, where she raised an eyebrow at Malayah Hudson. "Beta Desmond still needs your care, Malayah," she said, her tone dripping with mockery. Her slightly open collar revealed faint marks on her neck—marks that spoke of a bond Malayah had never shared with Desmond. Malayah took a quick glance but remained unfazed. "No need for you to worry," she replied, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her.

Waverly scoffed and turned to leave. As soon as the door closed, Malayah’s phone buzzed softly. She looked down to see a photo sent by Waverly. It was Desmond, the Beta of the Silver Moon Pack, with Waverly in his arms, kissing her tenderly. His gaze was directed at the camera, filled with a tenderness Malayah hadn’t seen in the last three years. Her heart felt pierced, the pain overwhelming, making it hard to breathe. She clutched her chest as tears dripped into the sink. Years of affection and almost everything she had invested had led to this moment, leaving Malayah feeling as if her heart was being torn apart.

"Malayah, are you done yet? I'm exhausted; we need to rest. Come over and help me," Desmond called from the other room.

Malayah entered to see Desmond sitting in his wheelchair, his gaze unfocused. He was acting, and it seemed a shame he hadn’t won an Oscar for it. She looked at him coolly and said, "It’s been three years, and you still haven’t learned how to get into bed?"

“Who stays stuck in despair as long as you do?”

Desmond didn’t catch the sarcasm in her voice, only assuming she was tired of caring for him. "Malayah, are you fed up with me now? Why did you propose to me in the first place? I’m just a wreck, a complete waste!" His tone was agitated, the alpha tone he often used to command the pack slipping into his words. In the past, Malayah would have immediately comforted him when he spoke like this. After hesitating for a few seconds, she helped Desmond into bed, but there was no trace of affection in her eyes.

Once Desmond was in bed, he suddenly pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her tightly. His tone softened, "I’m sorry, Malayah, I spoke out of turn. I didn’t mean it; I just feel I’m not worthy of you in my current state."

"Sorry, sorry..."

"I’ve embarrassed you."

He always did this—after venting, he would begin to apologize for his words and actions. Malayah’s soft heart would always forgive him. She closed her eyes lightly, suppressing the indescribable emotions within her. After a while, she turned, her gaze falling instantly on the lipstick stain on his pajamas. It must have been from his kiss with Waverly, or perhaps intentionally left by her.

Malayah took a deep breath. "Rest well; I’ll be sleeping in the study tonight."

With that, she left without looking back.

Desmond instinctively tried to reach for her, but his hand was too slow, capturing only air. Watching Malayah leave without hesitation, an inexplicable frustration welled up within him. What did she mean by this? Three years had passed, and she wasn’t pretending anymore. Was she disgusted with him? He thought her love had no expiration date, but clearly, it was just shallow.

Malayah returned to the study, sitting there through the night. Her mind was filled with memories of her time with Desmond. Over the past three years, she had proposed five times. It was only last month that Desmond finally accepted. She had been ecstatic, arranging their mating ceremony, setting a date for their photoshoot, joyfully writing invitations to their friends. Looking back now, it was all a joke she’d played on herself. Her supposed deep affection had only ever moved her, while Desmond didn’t care at all.

Unable to sleep, Malayah found herself with dark circles under her eyes the next morning. She was preparing breakfast when she received a call from the photographer, "Miss Hudson, weren’t you scheduled to take your mating ceremony photos today? Why haven’t you arrived?"

"We won’t be taking photos..."

Before she could finish, Desmond’s voice came from nearby, "Malayah, are you canceling because of my legs?"

He was bowing his head, his hand gripping his pant leg tightly.

Malayah looked at him calmly and said, "We’ll be there shortly; please wait."

At the photo shoot location, Malayah emerged in a ceremonial gown while Desmond wore a tailored suit. The photographer encouraged them to get closer, smiling, "You two make a lovely couple."

Despite Desmond’s disability, his appearance was flawless, his aura as Beta still commanding respect.

Malayah remained silent, and Desmond discreetly glanced at her. For some reason, he felt a chill emanating from her. That morning, the regular cup of coffee was missing, and the breakfast she prepared was perfunctory. Eating it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Photographer: "Get a bit closer, you two. You’re engaged, so why so distant?"

Malayah didn’t move. Desmond instinctively tilted his head and turned his wheelchair, trying to get closer to Malayah.

Just then, his phone rang. He fumbled to take it out, glanced at it, and answered.

A few seconds later, Desmond spoke apologetically, "Malayah, there’s an urgent matter at the pack office. I need to leave right away. Could we postpone the photos?"

"Let’s take them another day."

Malayah replied coolly, "Go handle your work."

Desmond was swiftly escorted away, leaving Malayah watching his retreating figure. Her lips parted momentarily.

Desmond, we’ll never have mating ceremony photos in this lifetime.