I laughed—a bitter, hollow sound. “Lucky? For what? Being treated like an afterthought?” I stepped closer, my voice sharp. “I deserve better than this. Better than you.”
Tristan opened his mouth to argue, but I was done listening.
“Get out, Tristan.”
For the first time in years, I felt something close to peace. Even if it hurts like hell.
Tristan’s face twisted into something cold and cruel, his voice sharp. “Ember, what right do you have to talk to me like this? Don’t forget—you’re living in my house. I’m the Alpha. And I’m the one supporting you.”
His words hit like a slap. I bit my lip to keep from snapping back.
The oven beeped, cutting through the tension. I turned away, grateful for the distraction. I slipped on oven mitts and pulled out the cake. The scent of chocolate filled the air, warm and bittersweet.
Tristan’s gaze lingered on the cake, confusion flickering across his face. His brows furrowed. “Is today… your birthday?”
A hollow laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Of course, he didn’t remember. Today wasn’t just my birthday—it was also the third anniversary of our relationship. Three years. Three long, exhausting years.