Alec’s

The silence that followed breakfast wasn't awkward-it was peaceful, like the quiet that came after a long, devastating storm. The kind of silence that didn't demand to be filled. Alec sat across from me, chewing slowly, eyes occasionally flicking in my direction. I caught him once, and he looked away, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

When we both finished eating, he stood and gathered the plates, heading toward the sink. I followed without thinking, scooping up the cups and setting them beside him before switching on the tap.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asks, his voice low but with a familiar gruffness that held no real irritation-only disbelief.

I turn to find him staring at me, a deep crease between his brows. I am confused because it was obvious what I was doing. It didn't take a genius to figure out I was about to wash the dishes.

"Washing the dishes?" I reply.

He scowls. "Sadie, sit your ass down. You just came off three days of moon heat, and your legs barely work. You shouldn't be doing chores."

I roll my eyes and turn back to the sink. “I'm fine, Alec. I can handle it. You made breakfast, so it's only fair I clean up after."

"You're being stubborn."

"No, I am not."

"Yes, you are."

Goddess, why the hell were we arguing like little children?

"You're being bossy," I shoot back with a smirk. "Now are you going to help me rinse these or just stand there pouting?"

He narrows his eyes like he wants to argue further, but eventually he exhales and picks up a towel. "Fine. But you're not lifting a single damn pan."

I just sigh and roll my eyes at him. He is being so overprotective as if washing the dishes can actually break me.

We fall into a quiet rhythm, side by side at the sink. There is something strangely intimate about it, the way our shoulders brush every so often, the way his fingers linger when they pass over mine.

It feels so domestic, like this is how things are supposed to be. Like this was how things were supposed to be from the beginning.

"So," I say after a minute, keeping my tone casual, "whose cabin is this anyway?"

Alec pauses before responding, the sound of water running over the dishes filling the gap. "It's mine."

Am I shocked? Definitely. I didn't expect this to be his. Maybe a friend or something. I never would have imagined Alec having a small, cozy cabin. If anything, I imagined him having a huge-ass mansionette.

I glance at him. "Yours?"

He nods. "Built it three years ago."

I raise a brow. "Really? And here I thought I knew everything about you. How did I

not know you had a secret escape cabin in the middle of the woods?"

He rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly. "Didn't exactly advertise it."

I am really curious now. "Why not?"

His shoulders stiffened slightly. "Because I built it for my mate. I wanted a place

that was just ours. Somewhere quiet. Private. No one else would know about it... just the two of us."

I freeze, fingers tightening around

the soapy plate in my hand, as the impact of his words settles inside me. I suddenly come crashing down from the cloud nine I was riding on a few minutes ago. Everything in me stiffs and I feel as if my breath has been knocked out of me.

"So," I say slowly, my voice above a whisper, "you built it for Lola."

His silence stretches. Long. Heavy. Do I really need a confirmation when his silence speaks volumes? Who else would he have built it for if it weren't Lola? And that? That makes me bitter. Makes me angry. Makes me jealous.

The whole thing, including her name on my lips, leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I want nothing but to drop the subject but something inside me just keeps pushing.

I turn slightly to look at him. "Did she ever come here? Did she ever sleep in the bed?"

Alec drops the towel he is holding, reaches for me, and gently pulls me away from the sink. I face him reluctantly.noveldrama

"No," he says firmly. "Lola has never been to this cabin. No woman has. Only you."

I pull away, needing space. Needing

clarity. Fuck, for some reason it felt like my insides were burning and it had nothing to do with the heat and everything to do with his past relationship with Lola. It still fucking hurts when I think of how in love he

was with her. How he treated her like a queen while I was treated like

the invisible stranger.

"It doesn't matter," I mutter. "Even if she has never set foot here... you still built it

for her."

Maybe I was still suffering from the

aftereffects of the moon heat, but I

was fighting back tears. Tears I didn't want him to see. I wanted scream and shout, but I didn't do

any of that. I couldn't let myself lose control like that.