The morning sun reflected through the thin curtains of Isolde's room. She sat on the edge of her small bed with her hands clasped tightly in her lap as if holding herself together.
Her heart still felt raw from the previous night's humiliation, and Kaelen's cutting remarks echoed in her mind. But this time, there were no tears. Instead, there was a quiet resolve, a fragile but growing strength within her that refused to let the pain consume her.
Isolde closed her eyes, letting the memories of her past rise to the surface. She had never had an easy life. Growing up as an orphan in the pack, she'd faced judgment and exclusion. She was the girl who didn't belong, the one who always had to fight twice as hard to prove her worth.
She remembered the long nights of scrubbing floors until her hands bled, the harsh words from pack members who looked down on her, and the bitter loneliness that had been her constant companion. And yet, she had endured.
Her resilience did not spring from some heroic ideal, it was from necessity. She had learned to survive because there was no other choice.
Kaelen's cruelty, as sharp as it was, wasn't the first hardship she had faced. And she realized it wouldn't be the last.
"Why should I let him break me?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible.
She wasn't just a bond mate to Kaelen. She was more than the role he had reduced her to.
She was Isolde, a woman who had weathered storms before and would weather them again.
The thought gave her a bit of hope, a spark of determination that refused to be extinguished.
The day began like any other, with Isolde preparing breakfast in the pack's grand kitchen. The beautiful space was alive with activity, the scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling meat filling the air.
As she carried a tray of food to the dining hall, she felt the familiar weight of eyes on her. Whispers followed her, cruel and mocking, but she kept her head high.
Kaelen was already seated at the head of the table, his piercing gaze landing on her as soon as she entered. His presence was as imposing as ever, and the tension in the room seemed to thicken with each step she took toward him.
"Isolde," he said, his tone sharp and commanding. "You're late."
She bowed her head slightly. "I apologize, Alpha. It won't happen again."
"It shouldn't," he replied coldly, taking a sip from his goblet. "But then again, I suppose I shouldn't expect much from someone like you."
The words stung, but Isolde forced herself to remain calm. She placed the tray on the table and stepped back, her hands clasped tightly behind her to keep them from trembling.
As Kaelen continued to issue orders throughout the day, Isolde noticed a shift within herself. Each time he belittled her, she felt the familiar pang of hurt, but instead of letting it crush her, she used it as fuel.
When he demanded she polish the silverware until it gleamed, she did it without complaint, her movements steady and precise.
When he deliberately spilt his drink and ordered her to clean it up, she knelt down gracefully, wiping the floor without a word.
And when he scolded her in front of others, she met his gaze briefly not with defiance, but with a quiet strength that left him momentarily speechless.
Later that evening, Isolde found a moment of peace in the pack's garden. The cool night air was a balm to her frayed nerves, and the gentle rustle of leaves provided a soothing backdrop to her thoughts.
She leaned against the trunk of an old oak tree, gazing up at the moon. It was full and luminous, a symbol of the strength and mystery that governed their kind.
"I am not worthless," she whispered, her voice firm and steady.
She repeated the words like a mantra, each syllable fortifying her spirit.
"I am not weak."
The bond with Kaelen felt like a chain, but she refused to let it define her. If he couldn't see her worth, that was his failing, not hers.
The next morning, as Isolde went about her duties, she carried herself differently. Her movements were deliberate; her posture was straight and confident; you would easily notice.
Kaelen noticed the change almost immediately. When he called for her to bring him his cloak, she did so with quiet efficiency, meeting his gaze briefly before walking away.
There was no fear in her eyes, no hesitation, no lingering desire for attention.
Kaelen frowned, a hint of confusion crossing his features. She wasn't acting like the meek, broken girl he was used to.
Over the next few days, Isolde continued to find strength in small moments.
She sought solace in the kitchen, kneading dough with a focus that helped clear her mind. She found comfort in the garden, where the beautiful blooms reminded her that even the most delicate flowers could thrive in harsh conditions.
And she found strength in her own thoughts, reminding herself daily that she was more than Kaelen's cruel words.
Each small victory, no matter how insignificant it seemed, was a step toward reclaiming her sense of self.
The bond still lingered, its pull as strong as ever. It was a constant reminder of what could have been, a partnership, a love that was meant to uplift and strengthen them both.
But Kaelen's rejection had turned it into a source of pain.
Isolde couldn't sever the bond, but she could choose how she responded to it. She could either let it weigh her down, or she could use it as a reminder of her own resilience.
She chose the latter.
As the days passed, Kaelen began to notice Isolde's quiet strength. She didn't flinch when he scolded her, nor did she shy away from his gaze.
Her silence wasn't submission; it was a declaration of her inner strength, and it was so obvious.
And though he would never admit it, Kaelen found himself unsettled by the change.
One evening, as Isolde stood on the balcony overlooking the forest, she allowed herself a small smile.
For the first time in a long time, she felt a spark of hope.
She didn't know what the future held, but she knew she wouldn't let Kaelen break her anymore.
No matter how cruel he was, no matter how heavy the bond felt, she would endure.
Because she was Isolde. And she was stronger than he would ever realize.