Chapter 88 NEW HOBBY
Adam's POV
I woke up already tired. The kind of tiredness that sits in your chest like a weight and refuses to move. My eyes open, but my head feels stuffed with cotton and static, like everything inside me is still buzzing from last night. I cried so much that I'd cried myself to sleep in Kael's arms but I somehow still woke up emotionally in debt. Kael had to bathe me and force me to eat.
It was just a dream.
I tell myself that again, slowly and carefully. Like if I repeat it enough, it’ll stick to my head.
It was just a dream. It’s a new day. Hours have passed. Normal people don’t dwell on dreams for hours unending.
So why do I still feel like this?
I stare at the ceiling, jaw tight, annoyed at myself more than anything else. I hate this part of me. The part that spirals. The part that feels too much, too fast, too deep. I hate that my emotions don’t come with an off switch. And I hate how much it annoys me to know that I wasn't like this; I wasn't this emotional. I didn't cry or think long and hard when Brian and his parents made it a daily mission to torment me.
“Get over it,” I mutter under my breath. “You’re fine.”
My body does not agree.
There’s a dull ache behind my eyes. My chest feels sore, like I cried too hard— which I did, embarrassingly. I roll onto my side, curling in on myself, trying to physically contain whatever mess is happening in my head.
I hear the door open.
I feel the mattress dip. Then warmth. Then his lips brush my hair.
“Are you feeling better?” He asks quietly.
I hum in response. It’s the best I can do.
His hand slides to my cheek, gentle, thumb brushing under my eye like he’s checking for tears that aren’t there anymore. I hate that he can read me so easily.
“The seamstress is here,” he says. “If you want to go—”
He stops.
I feel his fingers tilt my face up so I have no choice but to look at him. His eyes search mine, slow and careful, like he’s not trying to invade, just… understand.
“It might help you feel lighter,” he finishes softly.
I don’t answer right away. My brain wants to say no. My chest wants to stay curled up and miserable. But another part of me, the stubborn and tired of drowning part of me, knows he’s probably right.
I gave him a little nod.
“That’s my brave one,” Kael murmurs.
I frown. “I’m not brave.”
He kisses my hair again anyway. “You don’t have to be.”
He helps me sit up, steadying me with gentle care. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, the floor cool under my feet, grounding.
“Come,” he says. “I’ll take you.”
The moment we stepped into the room, a new lovely smell hit my nostrils and I took a deep breath without realizing it.
I looked around to see machines, fabrics, tables covered in tools and spools of thread in colors I didn’t know had names. Rolls of cloth stacked neatly against the walls. The air smells like fabric and oil and something oddly comforting, like work being done.
My steps slowed, and my chest loosened.
“Oh,” I breathe.
Kael watches my face closely, relief flickering across his features when he sees my shoulders relax.
Heather turns at the sound of us entering.
“Greetings, Alpha,” she says. Then she looks at me and bows again. “And to you, Luna.”
I panic for half a second. “Oh—no, you don’t have to bow everytime. And so sorry for the inconvenience. It must have been hard moving your stuff here.”
She straightens with a smile that reaches her eyes. “Not at all. Alpha handled the moving himself. I’m honoured to be here.”
I glance at Kael.
He squeezes my hand, unapologetic.
“Don’t stress yourself out,” he tells me. “I’ll be nearby.”
Then, just like that, he leaves.
Heather claps her hands together lightly. “Now,” she says cheerfully, “let me show you around.”
She doesn’t rush me. She explains everything like I’m capable, not an amateur who's just curious.
“This is the sewing machine,” she says, patting the metal gently. “For straight seams. This one here is for knitting— much faster than needles if you’re making something large. This is the weaving frame. And this—” she gestures proudly “—is the button maker.”
My eyes light up. “You can make buttons?”
“Any shape, style, and design you want.”
That does it.
I forgot to be sad.
I help where I can. Heather guides my hands, correcting me softly when I mess up. Servants come in with snacks and juice— once, twice, three times… Heather laughs and says, “Your Alpha worries too much.”
“Tell me about it,” I reply, chewing on a sweet pastry.
Every now and then, she points at a cushion. “Sit. Rest. Alpha’s orders.”
Sometimes I do.
Sometimes I don’t.
When I feel my legs get tired, I migrate to the button machine and make little piles of buttons in random colors, lining them up like they’re important.
By the time Kael returns, the sun has started to set.
“Are you closing for the day?” he asks.
I look up, genuinely surprised that time has passed at all. “Already?”
He smiles. “Seems you had fun.”
“I did,” I said quickly. “She’s amazing. You should pay her double. No—triple.”
Heather laughs. “That won’t be necessary.”
“It is,” I insist.
“I will.” Kael said with a chuckle, guiding me towards the door.
“See you tomorrow.” I said to Heather before she disappeared from sight.
As we walk, Mira approaches and bows. “Alpha, Star Moon sent a token, to pay homage. They’ll be attending the feast. Vance will be coming in place of their Alpha.”
Kael clicks his tongue. “Those arrogant bunch.”
He dismisses her with a wave.
I frown. “Why are they coming to your feast? I thought you were enemies.”
“They are supposed to be,” Kael says. “But the feast is tradition. We take turns hosting. Each season a different pack hosts, it's my pack’s turn.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “That makes sense.”
The moment we stepped into the hall, I saw Sara approaching.
She’s carrying a tray. A bowl sits on it, steam curling gently into the air. She smiles when she sees me.
“There you are,” she says warmly. “I went looking for you. Tried your chamber, but they wouldn’t even let me into the wing.”
I open my mouth to respond but the aroma of whatever she's carrying hits me and my vision blurs.
The hall melts away, replaced by flashes. A kitchen that isn’t this one. A voice calling—
“Archie.”
My head throbs. Kael’s voice cuts in sharply. “Step back.”
“Archie—”
The world snaps back.
Something warm slides down my face.
I blink, confused.
Then I see red drops… It's blood.
Blood drips from my nose, splashing onto the floor as Kael swears and pulls me into his arms.
It's just another nose bleed but it's coming out a lot more than usual.