Fated To Three, Betrayed By All… Until She Rose novel Chapter 83

**Healing Slowly But Surely**
By R. Joseph

**Homecoming.**

Leilani.

“Have you ever pondered why you’ve been treated differently throughout your life?”

The opening line of the letter struck me with the force of a thunderclap, sending my heart into a frenzied dance within my chest. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sudden dryness that gripped my throat, and pressed on, my eyes glued to the words.

“Aren’t you curious about why your family has always regarded you with disdain? If you’ve ever questioned this but remain in the dark, allow me to enlighten you: It’s because you were never one of them. You are not a Blackthorne. You are a Valemont. And if you doubt my words, just ask your mother.”

As those words sank in, my mind raced back to the undeniable truth of my life. Chalice and I were identical twins, our features strikingly similar except for our differing hair color and eye shades. Our blood was forever intertwined, yet here I was, grappling with the bitter reality that someone dared to question my place in this family. In a fit of rage and disbelief, I tore the letter into shreds, my hands trembling uncontrollably.

Anger coursed through my veins, mingling with a deep sense of despair. My eyes burned with unshed tears, refusing to fall, as I realized that whoever had sent this letter did so with malicious intent. It was not an attempt to help but rather a cruel reminder of my isolation, a taunt aimed at my very existence.

My thoughts flickered to Chalice, and for a fleeting moment, I couldn’t shake the suspicion that she was somehow behind this. Who else would have the audacity to taunt me about my fractured relationship with our family?

Shaking with fury, I picked up the bouquet of red roses that had been left on my porch. Instead of discarding them as I usually would, I grabbed a note and a pen, hastily scribbling the words: “Stay away from me,” before unceremoniously dropping it back on the porch.

My mood had taken a nosedive, my anger simmering just below the surface, threatening to consume everything in its path.

Time seemed to stretch as I remained frozen in my chair, enveloped in my overwhelming rage, until the sudden ring of the doorbell jolted me back to reality.

With reluctant determination, I wheeled myself slowly to the door, a small smile beginning to form as I opened it to reveal long legs and vibrant pink hair.

“Maya!”

“Lani!” she exclaimed, her voice ringing with the familiar cheerfulness that always brightened my days. She leaned down to brush her lips against my forehead—a sweet gesture that warmed my heart. This time, she didn’t pull me into a hug; her arms were laden with bags filled with groceries, takeout, and a bottle of champagne, just as she had promised. As she breezed past me into the house, she sighed dreamily, “This place looks divine!”

“Thank you!” I replied, my spirits lifting a little.

“Who am I kidding? Have you seen the owner of the house?!” she quipped, and I couldn’t help but chuckle, my smile widening as I watched her bustle about the kitchen. Moments later, she emerged with two empty glasses, the champagne bottle, and a steaming container of Chinese food.

With a theatrical flourish, she plopped onto my favorite red sofa, yawning as she glanced down at my wheelchair. “How’d you do? Have you tried to get out of it yet?”

I shook my head slowly, feeling her inquisitive gaze bore into me. “Not really,” I murmured, my cheeks flushing under her scrutiny. “I know I can walk and stand; I just feel too weak to attempt it right now.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m here!” she declared, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she placed the wine glass and champagne bottle on the table and rushed over to assist me.

I bristled, shaking my head emphatically. “No, Maya, please! I’ll try tomorrow. Just not today!”

But her determination was unwavering. The stubbornness she was known for shone through as she laughed softly, peppering kisses across my face and hair, clearly intent on distracting me from the discomfort of leaving my safe space. I shook my head again, my voice trembling. “I’m scared.”

“I’ve known you for four years, Lani. You’re never scared!”

If I had to describe Maya in one word, it would be energetic—abundantly so. Sometimes, I found it hard to keep up with her relentless spirit.

With a groan, I felt her drape one arm over my shoulder and the other around my waist. Using a surprising amount of strength—something she had in spades—she pulled me to my feet, murmuring, “There, there! Be careful.”

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