Menon shifted slightly closer immediately.
Protective.
Always protective.
I felt the growl vibrate low in his chest before he controlled it.
“You’ve always had difficulties,” my mother continued carefully, as if speaking to someone unstable. “Emotional episodes. Obsessions. Problems separating fantasy from reality.”
Each word landed like a bruise.
The old shame tried rising instantly.
The familiar horrible feeling that maybe everyone had always been right about me.
Except now, the matebond pushed back.
Warm.
Steady.
Certain.
And beside me stood a male who looked at me like I hung the fucking stars.
“No,” I said quietly.
My mother blinked slightly.
“No?” she repeated sharply.
“No.” My voice strengthened. “I spent years thinking something was wrong with me because no one bothered listening when I tried explaining what I experienced.”
Dr. Childs looked uncomfortable now.
Good.
Let them all feel uncomfortable.
“I couldn’t sleep at all when I was little,” I continued shakily.
“I imagined things. I saw things at nighttime. Magic reacted strangely around me.”
Emotion clogged painfully in my throat.
“And instead of asking why, everyone decided I was unstable.”
Menon’s hand gripped mine, his tail wound tighter around my waist—and that small reassurance of his presence grounded me.
“That is unfair,” my mother snapped immediately.
“Is it?” I whispered.
Silence.
Raw painful silence.
Because we both knew it wasn’t.
