My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 221

Chapter 221: Chapter 221 CHILDHOOD RESENTMENTS

SERAPHINA’S POV

I didn’t remember leaving the Lockwood Estate.

One minute, I was standing in the library, the air thick with dust and lies, my mother’s words ricocheting inside my skull like mini bullets.

The next thing I knew, I was outside, my feet pounding against the stone steps, moving fast, as if distance alone could keep those words from sinking deeper.

Ordinary.

Unremarkable.

Worse, if anything.

I was in no right mind to drive, so I left my car behind, stormed down the long driveway, and through the gates.

The rain had begun as a thin mist, barely a whisper against my skin, but with every passing second, it grew heavier, colder, soaking through my clothes, until the fabric clung to me like a second skin.

I welcomed it.

The biting cold hurt less than the ache clawing through my chest.

I didn’t know how long I walked, only that every step grew heavier under the weight of thirty years.

Years spent wondering why I was never enough.

Why every door I tried to open as a child had been locked.

Why every spark of potential I showed was smothered before it had a chance to burn.

Every attempt at something new—shut down.

Every interest—redirected.

Every dream—dismissed.

How many times had I blamed myself?

Too quiet.

Too clumsy.

Too slow.

Not charming enough.

Not talented enough.

Not strong enough.

Not good enough.

Just when I was moving on, healing, when I thought that my old wounds were scarred over, they cracked open now, bleeding raw, and all my childhood resentments came bubbling to the surface.

All those years of thinking I was the problem—and now to learn it was because of some ridiculous prophecy some stranger told my parents before I could even walk?

If it weren’t so cruel, it might’ve been absurdly funny.

I laughed anyway, a hoarse, ugly sound that dissolved into the rain.

A fortune-teller had dictated my entire life.

And my parents went along with it. Used it as a basis to treat me as an afterthought.

If it were Daniel, and someone prophesied that he was destined to live an ordinary life, would I love him any less?

Would I undermine him? Hold him back?

Never.

I would die before doing that to him.

If my son wanted to reach for the stars, I would lift him high on my shoulders. If he wanted to try something hard, I would help him practice. If he failed, I’d tell him we could try again tomorrow.

That was love.

Encouragement.

Support.

Faith.

Not whatever the hell my parents had given me.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify