Shattered by the Alpha Stronger Than Ever novel Chapter 125

Chapteruz

Three months later

Karissa

I stood there enveloped by the nostalgic sentiments of the past, a past that was beautiful and precious, gazing at the half–finished painting in front of me. My mother had been working on it before she left, and it still held a piece of my shattered world. The painting itself wasn’t extraordinary, but the memories it evoked were. It depicted a mother in a vibrant pink dress adorned with white flowers, hand in hand with her daughter, who wore a matching dress.

The image was inspired by a photograph my father had taken during our last happy family outing to Montana, where we visited my Aunt, Corwin’s mom. We strolled through a picturesque flower valley, holding hands, and walked towards the warm light on the hilltop to take a family picture. The memory still lingered, both bittersweet and haunting, painfully pulling the strings attached to the happiness we once shared before my father’s affair and the subsequent pregnancy shattered our family’s harmony.

It’s as if the familiarity of your old self is a comforting refuge, a shield to protect you from the vulnerability and pain that comes with facing the truth. You slip back into your usual routine, your usual skin, because it’s a way of asserting control, of proving to yourself and others that you’re strong, that you can handle it. But sometimes, it feels like you’re just going through the motion pretending to be the person you used to be, rather than embracing the person you’re becoming

The past three months had been a whirlwind of activity as I methodically wrapped up the loose ends of my life here, preparing to start anew in Montana. I had managed to secure a temporary job that fit perfectly with my timeline, providing a sense of being independent amidst the chaos. But it was the personal tasks that had been the most emotional and time–consuming.

I had spent hours sorting through my mother’s studio in Sanat Ana, wher she took arts classes as well. I carefully collected her paintings and arranging for them to be remastered. Each brushstroke of hers, each vibrant or dull color, held a memory, a story, and a piece of my heart that was once so full of life. I had also put the studio up for sale, a difficult but necessary decision. The property itself wasn’t grand, but it held sentimental value, yet I was finding it difficult to let it go.

But then I had a conversation with Deckard, and his incredible insight helped me see things in a new light. He pointed out that it’s not the physical place or material possessions that make somewhere feel like home, but rather the people and memories that make it special. His words as sensible and deeply true, made me realize that I could take the memories and the paintings with me, leaving the physical property behind. So, I made the difficult decision to let go of the place, and it ended up being sold to a cafe owner who wanted to open another shop there. It’s gonna be a heartfelt goodbye, but I knew that I was taking the things that truly mattered with me to

Montana

The woman who purchased my Mother’s studio had given me her heartfelt assurance that she would treasure the space, preserving its original charm and character. Her generosity didn’t stop there she had also warmly invited me to visit whenever I pleased, offering me unlimited access to the kitchen’s delights. I was deeply moved by her kindness, touched by the fact that genuine goodness still existed in the world.

Deckard had also broached the sensitive topic of my father and our complicated relationship. Sensing my turmoil, he had refused to leave my side, staying with ine until the morning, when he left for Montana.

Despite the intense anger I harbored towards my father, there were moments when I couldn’t help but miss him, and wonder if he was truly as cruel as he seemed. The doubts had lingered, refusing to be extinguished, until Deckard had shared his insights with me. He had helped me understand that not everyone is blessed with the values of honesty and loyalty, either due to a lack of upbringing or a refusal to acknowledge and learn from their mistakes. Some individuals, like my father–cheat and then become overwhelmed by the realisation of their regret, causing them to become defensive and withdrawn. Deckard wasn’t certain what my father’s true emotions were, but he said he believed that deep down, in some hidden corner of his heart, my father did regret his actions. He just didn’t know how to express it, and that inability had become a crippling law.

Even if I attempted to mend our fractured relationship, the harsh reality was that my father’s narcissistic nature would always be a poison, slowly seeping into my life and corroding my sense of self–worth. His constant criticism, a never–ending barrage of disapproval, had already taken its toll, leaving me wary of his toxic influence. The thought of subjecting myself to his belittling comments about my weight, my choices, and my career was unbearable.