Page 75 of The Alpha King’s Hidden Mute Mate

She left.

Again.

I looked down at the extinguished campfire. The ashes still held a trace of warmth, like the temperature she'd left when sleeping beside me last night. But that warmth was rapidly fading, just like her—every time I thought I'd caught her, she slipped through my fingers, leaving only ash.

I clenched my fists.

No. I wouldn't lose her again this time.

Three days later, I stood outside her tour's final performance venue, clutching a bouquet of sunflowers.

I knew it was corny. I knew. But I chose sunflowers because they looked like her—stubborn, growing toward the sun, lifting their heads even after storms.

The show ended. The crowd poured out like a tide. I waited by the exit, heart pounding like a drum.

Then she emerged. Wearing a simple white dress, hair styled, still masked. She looked so beautiful I forgot to breathe.

But Ethan walked beside her. He carried a massive bouquet—at least fifty red roses dotted with baby's breath. He smiled as he handed it to her. She took it, lowered her head to smell them, then looked up and gave him a smile.

That smile was a knife, precisely inserted into my heart.

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Vela."

She stopped and turned. The moment she saw me, her smile vanished. Like someone flipped a switch—all warmth and light instantly extinguished, replaced by cold, guarded expression.

"Yes?"

I held out the sunflowers. "Congratulations on a successful show."

She looked at the flowers. Didn't take them. The silence lasted maybe three seconds. Each one felt like a century.

"Thanks," she said, tone polite but distant. "But I'm allergic to sunflowers."

She turned and walked away.

I stood there, holding those sunflowers like a clown.

Then I heard a voice—a little girl's voice, clear and cheerful, ringing through the air like silver bells.

"Mommy!"

I turned my head.

A little girl ran from the crowd, rushing toward Mia. Maybe three or four years old, dark brown hair in two pigtails, wearing a pink dress.

My brain went blank. Blood froze in that instant, then instantly boiled. My heart stopped beating, then slammed violently against my chest at a near-frantic pace. That child—

Mia bent down, scooped up the little girl, and kissed her cheek. "Lily! What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't wait!" The girl wrapped her arms around Mia's neck, burying her face in her shoulder adorably. "I missed Mommy so much!"

Mia laughed. That tender, indulgent, wholehearted smile.

I stood there feeling the whole world spin. "She—" I started, my voice hoarse like someone was choking me. "Is she your child?"

Mia's expression froze. She looked at me, eyes flashing with complex emotions—wariness, defensiveness, and a hint of barely perceptible panic.

Then she did something that shattered my heart completely.