Chapter 84 WHERE I BELONG
AMBER’S POV
Morning comes quickly here. I wake to the smell of food and the sound of quiet movement outside my door. For a moment, I don’t remember where I am. Then I see the familiar cracks on the ceiling, the small stain near the corner, and it all comes rushing back.
I’m home and the realization settles in my chest slowly, like warmth spreading through cold limbs. I sit up, pulling the blanket tighter around me. It’s worn, old, nothing like the heavy, polished things in Derek’s pack, but it feels right. It feels like me.
I swing my legs off the bed and stand, my body still sore from the long ride, but it doesn’t matter. Every ache feels like I had earned it. All I was concerned about at that moment was that I was here, in the place where my heart is, where people actually treated me like humans and not stuck in Derek’s pack where I am constantly scorned like I didn’t amount to anything.
When I step into the hallway, my mother looks up from where she’s working and freezes.
“You’re awake,” she says, smiling like she’s afraid I might disappear again.
“I am,” I reply.
She crosses the space between us and cups my face, studying me like she’s counting every breath.
“You look tired.”
“I am,” I admit. “But I’m okay.”
She nods, like that’s all she needed to hear.
“Come eat something.”
The kitchen is warm, crowded in the best way. My siblings argue over trivial things, my father sits at the table, already halfway through his meal. Everything feels loud compared to the controlled silence I left behind, but I don’t want it any other way.
I take a seat, and a bowl is placed in front of me without anyone asking. No hesitation or suspicion, just care.
As I eat, they watch me carefully, like they’re waiting for me to break, but I don’t. I feel steadier than I have in a long time. With every bite, I feel like I’m grounding myself in something real.
After breakfast, my father asks me to walk with him. We step outside, the air crisp, the ground damp beneath our feet. He doesn’t speak at first, and neither do I. The silence isn’t uncomfortable. It’s familiar.
“You’re safe here,” he finally says. “No matter what.”
I nod. “I know.”
“You don’t have to explain everything,” he adds.
“But I want you to understand something.”
I glance at him. “What?”
“Leaving doesn’t make you weak,” he says.
“Staying where you’re being hurt does.”
His words sink in deeper than he probably realizes. I didn’t know I needed to hear them, but I did. I didn’t know how much I’d been blaming myself until now.
The day moves on slowly. I help where I can, falling back into old routines. Cleaning and carrying water. Folding clothes, all the simple things, but they ground me. With every task, I feel more like myself again, like the version of me that existed before fear became normal.
At one point, my sister pulls me aside.
“Are you staying?” she asks quietly.
I hesitate. “For now.”
She smiles, relief plain on her face. “That’s enough for me.”
I realize then how much my absence must have hurt them. I had been so focused on surviving that I hadn’t thought about the space I left behind. Guilt flickers briefly, but it doesn’t consume me. I’m here now, that’s what matters.
As the afternoon stretches on, I sit outside, letting the sun warm my skin. I close my eyes and breathe, really breathe, without feeling like someone is watching, measuring, judging.
Still, my mind wanders. I think of Derek more than I want to admit.
Not in longing, but in clarity. The way his words cut. The way his silence afterward felt like confirmation. I replay that moment again, not to hurt myself, but to remind myself why I left. The pain doesn’t feel as sharp anymore. It feels distant, like something I survived.
I don’t hate him. I don’t even think I ever could. But I understand now that understanding someone doesn’t mean enduring them.
As evening approaches, my mother sits beside me, her hand resting over mine.
“You’re quieter than usual,” she says.
“I’m just thinking.”
“About him?”
I don’t deny it. “About everything.”
She squeezes my hand. “You’re allowed to think. Just don’t forget why you’re here.”
“I won’t.”
Night falls gently, wrapping the house in familiar sounds. Crickets and distant voices. The quiet comfort of knowing I’m not alone. Someone laughs in the next room, and it makes something in my chest loosen.
When I lie down again, sleep doesn’t come right away. My thoughts drift, but they don’t spiral. They move calmly, like they finally have space.
I wonder if Derek has noticed yet.
The thought brings a strange mix of emotions. Not guilt, exactly. Not satisfaction either, just inevitability. He will look for me and he will be angry, he might even be afraid.
That isn’t my responsibility anymore. For the first time, I choose not to carry the weight of what he might feel.
Morning comes again, brighter this time. I wake feeling lighter, like something heavy has been set down for good. Outside, my siblings are already awake, laughing loudly about something unimportant.
I join them, smiling more than I have in weeks. The smile feels natural, not forced.
As the day unfolds, something inside me shifts. I start to think about what comes next. Not running or hiding but living. I think about rebuilding, about helping my family more, about finding purpose beyond survival.
I don’t know how long I’ll stay here, or what the future looks like. I only know that this place gives me room to breathe, and that matters more than any title or pack ever could.
Later, as the sun begins to dip, I stand at the edge of the land and look out at the trees. Somewhere
beyond them is the pack I left behind. Somewhere beyond them is Derek.
NOWHERE TO FIND HER