My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her

Chapter 538: Chapter 538 AFTER (BONUS Chapter 5)

SERAPHINA’S POV

If one walked down a street and got mugged, they’d forever be wary of that street, right?

That was how trauma was supposed to work: pain taught caution, betrayal taught distance, and broken hearts hesitated before returning to what had shattered them.

By all logic, I should have been terrified.

The last time I did this, I’d walked toward a man who couldn’t see me, into a marriage built on mistaken memories, resentment, and distance, believing that if I simply loved enough, endured enough, waited long enough, everything would somehow fall into place.

Everything had fallen apart instead.

And yet...

As I stood before the mirror in the bridal suite, smoothing my palms over ivory satin embroidered with tiny silver blossoms that reflected the morning light, I couldn’t find a single trace of that old fear.

It wasn’t because I had forgotten what happened; it was because this wasn’t the same street.

The destination might have looked familiar from a distance, but every step toward it had been different.

We had rebuilt ourselves from the ground up, one choice at a time.

We’d stood shoulder to shoulder against monsters determined to tear everything apart, and somewhere between impossible battles and impossible odds, trusting each other had become as natural as breathing.

We had dated like awkward teenagers despite already knowing every scar on each other’s hearts.

We’d argued over whose turn it was to choose the location of our evening walks through Nightfang, only to end up randomly wandering hand in hand beneath the stars anyway.

We’d escaped to the island where he’d grown up, replacing memories of blood and loss with crashing waves, lush mornings, and the kind of peace I’d been craving for years.

Most importantly, every day, we’d chosen each other again—not because fate demanded it, not because a bond compelled it, but simply because we wanted to.

"I’ve never seen someone smile this much while staring at herself." Maya’s amused voice pulled me away from my thoughts.

I glanced toward her reflection beside mine and laughed. "I wasn’t staring at myself."

"No?"

"No." I reached up to adjust a loose curl that framed my face. "I was remembering."

She smiled knowingly. "Good memories?"

"The best kind."

She stepped closer, gently straightening one side of my veil before taking a small step back to admire her work.

"You know," she mused, "it’s a bit weird for the maid of honor to be more nervous than the bride.”

I arched a brow at her reflection. "You’re nervous?"

"I’m always nervous when Sera Blackthorne is involved." She sighed dramatically. "The universe has conditioned me to expect explosions, kidnappings, corrupt psychics, or at the very least a conspiracy."

I burst into laughter. "You forgot mysterious primordial entities."

"Oh, right."

"And mythical silver wolves."

"Those too."

Across the room, my mother looked up from where she’d been rearranging bouquets in crystal vases.

“Coping through humor,” she tutted. “Classic millennials."

Maya and I giggled as she shook her head fondly.

Even now, months after she woke, seeing my mother standing there still felt like witnessing a miracle.

She still wasn’t completely healed—some things couldn’t simply be restored, even by extraordinary means.

She tired more easily than she used to, and now and then I’d catch the faint shadow of exhaustion crossing her features before she carefully smoothed it away.

But she was here. Laughing. Alive. Fussing over flowers because she insisted every bouquet needed "an experienced woman’s touch."

She caught me looking at her and smiled. "What?"

My throat tightened unexpectedly. "I’m just really glad you’re here."

The warmth that filled her eyes was answer enough.

"So am I."

A comfortable silence settled over the room, broken only by the distant bustle drifting in through the open windows. Beyond them, guests were beginning to gather beneath the late morning sun, their voices carrying faintly on the breeze from Nightfang’s gardens.

Everything was ready.

A quick knock sounded at the door before it swung open just enough for a familiar head of dark curls to peek inside.

“Mom?”

My heart melted instantly.

Daniel looked impossibly handsome in his miniature black suit, complete with a tiny silver bowtie that matched Kieran’s.

His hair had been painstakingly combed into neat perfection, though one stubborn lock had already escaped and curled over his forehead.

"My handsome boy."

His face lit up as he hurried across the room, only to stop abruptly a few feet away. His dark eyes grew wide as they traveled from my veil to the skirt of my gown.

"Whoa..." The word came out in a reverent whisper.

I laughed softly. "What is it?"

"You look..." He frowned in concentration, searching for the biggest compliment he could think of.

At last, he shook his head as if nothing could quite suffice and settled for: "Dad’s going to lose his mind when he sees you."

A warm laugh escaped me, my eyes already stinging. “You think so?"

"Uh-huh." He smiled with complete confidence before his expression suddenly changed. "Oh! I almost forgot."

He held out a medium-sized parcel wrapped in plain brown paper.

"This came to the packhouse just as we were leaving. It has your name on it."

"Thank you, sweetheart." I smiled and pointed towards the growing pile of wedding gifts in a corner. "Can you put it over there?"

"I think..." He cocked his head and looked at the parcel like he’d developed X-ray vision. "I think you’ll want this one now."

"You do?"

He nodded again with complete certainty. "I just have a feeling."

I looked at the parcel with renewed interest, knowing that like me, Daniel’s feelings weren’t just feelings.

"Alright."

I held out a hand, and Daniel placed the parcel carefully into it before stepping back to watch with open curiosity.

The brown paper gave way easily beneath my fingers, revealing an old pink backpack nestled inside the box.

The world fell silent around me. My trembling hands slowly lifted it free, and my breath caught somewhere deep in my chest.

Time had weathered the fabric, softening the once-vibrant color, but I recognized every tiny imperfection as if I’d held it only yesterday.

There was the small scuff beside the zipper where I’d scraped it against a stone wall after losing a race at school, and there, faded but unmistakable, was the crescent moon surrounding a five-pointed star I’d once doodled onto the strap as a little girl.

Memories, long buried beneath years of pain and misunderstanding, surfaced with startling clarity.

I remembered Celeste wandering into my room one afternoon, deciding without so much as asking that she preferred the pink backpack because it suited her mood better that day.

And I remembered watching her leave with it slung over her shoulder while I quietly accepted the blue one instead, convincing myself it wasn’t worth arguing over something so small.

Such an ordinary childhood moment.

One exchanged backpack.

One tiny decision that had quietly altered the course of so many lives.

My vision blurred as I traced my fingers over the familiar doodle, and something shifted inside the front pocket.

A folded piece of paper slipped free and drifted into the box. My heartbeat quickened as I unfolded it with unsteady hands.

There was only a single line written across the page.

‘I believe this belongs to you; better late than never, right?’

There was no signature beneath the words, no explanation of how the backpack had found its way back to me after all these years, and no return address to tell me where it had come from.

It should have left me with questions, yet somehow it answered the only one that truly mattered.

A watery laugh escaped me.

Better late than never.

They were the very words I’d spoken beneath that tree when Kieran had finally told me the truth about the little girl in the park, about the life we’d almost had, and about all the years that had slipped through our fingers because of a simple misunderstanding.

Tears welled in my eyes and spilled over before I could stop them.

They weren’t born from grief, nor from the lingering ache of everything we’d lost.

Instead, they felt softer, lighter, as though the final weight of that old misunderstanding had lifted from my shoulders.

I held the backpack against my chest.

"I hope you’re okay, Celeste," I murmured so quietly I wasn’t sure anyone else heard.

Wherever life had taken her, I hoped she had found some semblance of peace.

Just as I finally had.

A gentle knock at the door broke the quiet, and one of the attendants leaned inside with a smile.

"It’s time."

The words settled over the room like warm sunlight, and for a moment no one moved. Then Maya let out an exaggerated gasp as she looked at my face.

"Oh no," she said, already reaching for the vanity. "You’ve cried half your makeup off."

I laughed through the last of my tears, the sound lighter than I’d expected, while Mother shook her head with fond amusement.

"Hold still," Maya muttered, though she was smiling as she dabbed carefully beneath my eyes before touching up my eyeliner with practiced precision.

By the time she stepped back, there was no trace of the tears that had escaped, only the bright anticipation bubbling beneath my skin.

I looked around the bridal suite one last time, letting the moment settle deep within me.

Maya’s own eyes had turned suspiciously shiny despite her determined composure, my mother was smiling through tears she made no attempt to hide, and Daniel stood proudly in the middle of the room, straightening his little jacket, ready for his important job of ring-bearing.

I carefully returned the backpack to its box and set it aside. Its journey had finally come to an end, and somehow that felt fitting, because mine was only just beginning.

Drawing one long, steady breath, I accepted the bouquet Maya placed into my hands.

Somewhere beyond those doors, Kieran was waiting—not the man I’d once married out of obligation and misunderstanding, but the man who had become my closest friend, my greatest comfort, and the home I’d chosen with my whole heart.

The first notes of the music drifted down the corridor, and excitement unfurled inside me with bright, unshakable certainty.

It was time to walk down the aisle.