VELARA'S POV

Eight months had passed since that night changed everything.I now held my newborn boy against my chest while sitting by myself in a dark nook of the maternity unit. The air around me was alive with laughter, joy, and the coziness of family get-togethers. In the radiance of mutual happiness and family pride, new mothers were showered with flowers and congratulated in whispers by their partners. A woman on the other side of me smiled as her partner caressed her hand and kissed her forehead. My chest ached from the tender, affectionate way he gazed at her. I was cruelly reminded that no one would be doing that for me as his presence encircled her like a safety net.

There would be no visitors rushing in with teary eyes to meet my baby. No one had called. No one had asked if I was alright. No arms had opened to welcome this little life nestled against my skin. It was just me and him. No family. No friends. Certainly no mate.

But I told myself it would be okay. It had to be.Like everything else, I would make it through this. No matter how many odds were against me, I would somehow manage to make it work.

The memory of labor still haunted my bones. Thirty-four hours and forty-five minutes of grueling, relentless pain. I had screamed until my throat was raw, until I was nearly hoarse with desperation, and no one had shown me an ounce of compassion. Not even the midwives. They had snapped at me coldly, told me to stop crying, that I was making too much fuss. I had never felt so helpless, so exposed, so small. The pain had been unbearable, but their cruelty made it worse. They treated me as if I were something foul and undeserving, a burden they couldn’t wait to cast off.

Growing up as the Alpha’s daughter, I had always been under pressure to live up to my name. One mistake, just one night, had cost me everything. The moment I became pregnant, my father stripped me of my title and cast me out. It didn’t matter that I had been drunk and alone, that I had fallen into the wrong arms at the worst possible time. All he saw was disgrace. Shame.

How could he cast me aside so easily, his own flesh and blood? And how could he call something so small and perfect a mistake?

The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps. When I looked up, I saw a nurse enter. There was no warmth in her eyes, but her face was inscrutable. Without saying anything, she reached for my chart and frowned disapprovingly as she looked over the pages. Her lips twisted slightly as though the sight of me offended her, and her glasses hung loosely on the bridge of her nose.

With a scathing and accusing tone, she questioned, "Still no idea who the father is?" She snapped her tongue disapprovingly and spoke in a judgmental tone.

I kept my face blank, forcing myself to stay calm. Of course I knew who the father was. But telling the truth would only bring more danger. He didn’t remember me, how could he? I had tried to tell him when I found out I was pregnant, and he’d looked at me like I was a stranger. The Blood Alpha, a man feared and respected by all, had simply shrugged me off. He didn’t care. And if my father ever found out who he was, he would’ve murdered me for the dishonor. So I had learned to lie. Pretending not to know was safer than dragging everyone into this mess.

The nurse tilted her head, flicking her red curls over her shoulder with a scoff. She glanced down at my baby, a sneer twisting her lips.

“He’s a handsome one,” she said mockingly, “Pity his mother’s nothing more than a disgrace.”

I flinched, but I didn’t respond. There was nothing I could say that would change her opinion. Nothing I said would erase the stigma that followed me wherever I went. I'd already heard every cruel word imaginable during my stay here. It no longer shocked me, it just chipped away at whatever dignity I had left.

"I have a headache," I murmured, barely meeting her eyes. "Can I get something? Just some Tylenol?"

She rolled her eyes dramatically and shook her head. "Not on your chart. So, no."

My voice trembled with exhaustion. "It’s just Tylenol. I’m not asking for anything strong."

"Doesn’t matter," she said flatly, dropping my chart onto the side table. "No prescription, no medication. That’s the rule."

Pain flared behind my eyes. I hadn't healed like the others. Most she-wolves recovered quickly after birth thanks to their ability to shift, but I hadn't been able to shift since I found out I was pregnant. I was still fragile, sore, every step like walking on bruised muscles. The lack of support only made everything worse.

“Could I at least get something to eat?” I asked softly, my stomach twisting with hunger. Breastfeeding was draining what little energy I had left, and I hadn’t eaten since labor ended.

“You came in after dinner was served. Breakfast is at seven.” She didn’t even look at me this time. Just turned away and started for the curtain.

I glanced at the clock. It was only a little after eight in the evening. So, what, no food until morning?

Just as she reached the edge of the curtain, she turned and gave me one last look, her eyes gleaming with disdain.

"Did you ever stop to consider what this means for the father?" she said scornfully. "What if he meets his true mate one day and she finds out he has a bastard child with some stranger? You should’ve thought of that before opening your legs.”

Her words hit like a slap. I wanted to scream at her, tell her he wasn’t innocent in this either, that he had made the same choice I did. But I said nothing. I simply held my baby closer, burying my face in his dark hair, breathing in his scent to ground myself.

Every day since I learned I was pregnant, I had thought of the consequences. I had thought of the woman who might one day bond with him and discover this secret. I had thought of the shame, the burden, the pain. But it wasn’t just my fault. He was part of it, too. He had abandoned me. Forgotten me.

I looked down at my son. His amber eyes, striking and bright, stared back at me, so much like his father's. He blinked up at me as if sensing my sadness, curling closer to my warmth.

"I’m sorry," I whispered to him, brushing my lips against his forehead. "It’s just us now. But I promise, I’ll never leave you."

And despite the ache, the hunger, and the cruel words, I meant it with all my heart.