Shattered by the Alpha Stronger Than Ever novel Chapter 44

The door creaked open, and Deckard strode in, his imposing frame seeming to fill the cozy space of Xaviera’s guest room. He moved with a confident ease, his presence commanding attention.

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy as I took in his appearance. He looked refreshingly put together, his rugged features radiating a sense of calm and collectedness that I could only dream of feeling at that moment.

It was as if the past few months had been kind to him, smoothing out the rough edges and leaving him looking revitalized and renewed. His piercing eyes sparkled with a warmth and kindness that always lingered.

He seemed different, somehow, since the last time I saw him, more at peace, more grounded. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of longing for that sense of serenity.

“Hey Hamsty, “his deep voice warm and familiar, as he used the nickname. I tried to force a smile, to play along with the lightheartedness, but it faltered, unable to reach my eyes.

The nickname was a reminder of a simpler time, a happier memory, one that I cherished deeply. I remembered the hamster, Duz, that he had given me when I was five and he was fifteen, how I had begged him for it, and how he had handed it over without hesitation. It was a small act of kindness that had left a lasting impression on me, and the nickname had become a teasing reminder of that special gift. But now, with the weight of my heartache and betrayal, everything was withering

His gesture, though kind, knocked me to a cruel occurrence. The bouquet of Amaryllis flowers, their delicate petals and vibrant colors, seemed to mock me, as if celebrating the death of my dreams.

I frowned, my arms remaining still, refusing to accept the offering. It felt like a part of me was slipping away, leaving a numbness that even the beauty of the flowers couldn’t penetrate. The condolences, the sympathetic gestures, they all felt like a spiky confirmation of my loss, that my happiness had been nothing more than an illusion. I couldn’t bear to touch the flowers, to acknowledge the pity and sorrow that came with them.

My words dripped with sarcasm, a defense mechanism to mask the pain and vulnerability I felt. “Great, you came to attend the funeral as well,” I whispered, my voice laced with a hint of bitterness. I didn’t want to be rude, but the harshness crept in, a reflection of injured kindness inside me. As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted them, sighing inwardly at my own sharpness.

His kind gesture, the flowers, and his gentle demeanor didn’t deserve my snarky response.

His eyes, filled with kindness and understanding, turned empathic and apologetic as he approached me, the flowers still clutched in his hand. He gently placed them on the bedside table, his movements deliberate.

“No, Karissa, these Amaryllis symbolize strength, pride, and determination,” he laid out. His words, meant to comfort, threatened to unravel the fragile threads of my composure.

Llooked away, my gaze drifting to the safety of the wall, as I struggled to maintain my fragile hold on emotions. The thought of breaking down again, of succumbing to the overwhelming grief, was too much to bear. I fought to keep my tears at bay, to keep the pieces of my heart I was holding together from running away in different directions.

“I brought it to remind you, you are more than that man. And even though you might feel completely broken now, you’ve done nothing wrong. You held your pride, walked away, you’ll find your strength, and you’ll live a beautiful life without him.” His sincere eyes, a

deep well of trust, admiration, and respect, met mine, and I searched for any hint of pity, but it was nowhere to be found.

Instead, I saw a reflection of the strong, capable person I once was, the person I thought I’d lost forever. Keith’s betrayal had made me feel like a victim, someone to be pitied, but the constant assurance of people who cared and my still breathing strength told a different

story.

1 extended my hands to accept the flowers with gratitude. “Thank you, Decks.” He nodded, his eyes still shining with that gentleness that made anyone trust him easily.

The following silence felt gloomy,

I despised this sudden stillness, this absence of conversation that had always flowed so effortlessly between us.

Deckard was one of those rare individuals who made you feel like you could bare your soul without fear of judgment or unsolicited advice. He’d listen with the quiet attentiveness of a teddy bear, offering words of comfort or insight only when necessary.

We always had easy conversations, laughter and happy memories. But now, with my life lying in fragments around me, I felt like I was drowning in a sea of emotions, unable to find the words to express the depth of my misery.

Chapter31