Katarina moved methodically through the quiet, airy rooms of her home, dusting shelves and rearranging trinkets with precision. Her home was immaculate, each room an elegant balance of comfort and class, with touches of her draconic heritage sprinkled throughout—wooden carvings of ancient symbols, delicate jade figurines, and tapestries that wove emerald and bronze threads into swirling, flame-like designs. She moved through each task with a practiced ease, although her mind was miles away, looping back to the familiar wound that ached just beneath the surface of her heart.

  Rex’s visit had soured her mood for the day and while she was expecting him to make an appearance at some point, she had expected him much earlier in the month. She was caught off guard when Duke’s cruiser appeared at the curb. The memory soured her mood, twisting her thoughts into dark, thorny knots.

  Every visit was always the same. He would appear, he would have something; sweets, flowers, a trinket or bauble to show that he remembered her interests. It was so tiring, so aggravating, and so beneath her. She didn’t owe him any attention, not after what he had done.

  Soon as he found out she was pregnant he ran away. Katarina didn’t care about the reason. Nothing Rex could have said to defend himself would have made his year long absence any more tolerable or acceptable. He’d vanished when she’d needed him most, without a word of where or why. Only to reappear a year later and pepper her life with endless, empty apologies, like stray coins tossed into a well. As if showing up after all this time could erase the scars of his betrayal.

  The thing was, he never defended himself no matter how badly she lashed him. Her merciless verbal eviscerations had dulled over the past few years, as if she had grown tired. The thrill, excitement, the entertainment of giving him a piece of her mind. It wasn’t what it used to be, and despite all of it, he still kept returning like a whipped dog begging for anything she would give him.

  Her thoughts spiraled as she scrubbed the kitchen counter with more force than needed, her claws accidentally scratching against the marble as she fumed. She had worked so hard to build a life for Max, a life without Rex, and now that Max was becoming increasingly more observant, how was she supposed to keep him hidden away from him? The sheer nerve of it made her blood boil.

  He didn’t have a father when he was born, he doesn’t need one now.

  A blur of movement caught her eye, breaking her out of her reverie. Max darted past her, his little tail wagging with excitement as he snatched a rag from her cleaning supplies. He held it up proudly, his amber eyes sparkling. “Look, Mama, I can help!”

  Katarina softened despite herself, brushing a stray strand of her mane from her face as she watched him mimic her motions, albeit with far more energy and far less precision. He wiped a corner of the table with great concentration, only to immediately knock over a vase with his elbow. It teetered dangerously, but Katarina caught it just in time.

  “Thank you, darling,” she said with a small smile, steadying the vase. “But perhaps we’ll leave the dusting to Mama, hm?”

  “But you are scratching the counter. I get in trouble when I scratch things.” Max protested.

  Katarina paused, and reflected over the damage she had caused to the countertop. She took a brief moment to collect herself and calm down. She smiled at Max, “If Mommy breaks something, Mommy will fix it. Now wouldn’t you rather go play?”

  Max giggled, a mischievous glint in his eye as he darted away, his small feet padding across the hardwood floor. He was growing more and more like his father each day, with a stubborn independence that both delighted and frustrated her. Watching him, she felt the old ache rise again, the simmering resentment that she never seemed able to let go.

  Her gaze drifted toward the wrapped gift on the counter, the newspaper crinkling around the edges. Rex’s relentless attempts to force his way back into her life; she knew he was trying, knew he was doing what he thought was best to try and salvage the mess he had made. How could she possibly accept it? How could she simply forgive the man who’d left her to weather the shame, the anger, and the crushing loneliness of raising their son alone?

  The familiar anger started building again, so she resumed cleaning to try and divert her attention with a familiar and cleansing activity.

  Katarina felt as though she were constantly at war with herself. One part of her knew, painfully well, that Rex’s efforts were genuine. She knew that he wanted to be there for her and, in his own clumsy way, for Max too. She could see it in the awkward gifts, each chosen with an earnest thoughtfulness that was almost endearing. The other part, the one rooted in the marrow of her bones, reminded her of every lonely night, every whisper of disdain from her family, every hurtful word that had chipped away at her own sense of worth.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Her father, Magnus, was openly hostile to the very idea of Rex’s return. He’d made no secret of his disgust for Rex even before his abandonment. The very thought of his daughter ever getting involved with a “lesser creature” like Rex was a persistent source of frustration at gatherings and visits, and he’d only been too willing to remind her of her “mistake” every time he saw her.

  There was no sympathy from him, no understanding of her struggle. If anything, he encouraged her resentment, making it clear that if Rex ever dared overstep his bounds, Magnus would take matters into his own hands and make him disappear. The threat was chillingly real, and she knew that at any point she could just ask, and her father would ensure Rex stayed out of their lives permanently.

  The rest of her family was no better. They saw Max as a curiosity at best, a tarnish on the Drakenhart bloodline at worst. None of them could understand her attachment to him, to this “bastard creature” they felt should have been quietly ushered out of their family’s world. They didn’t understand that she couldn’t, wouldn’t abandon him.

  Max was hers, the one unblemished light that had come out of all heartache. Even then, just the sight of Max was enough to cause the same pain she hated Rex for causing. Max was a constant reminder of Rex, and despite her love for her son, she just felt violated by Rex.

  And so, she was left to bear it all alone. There was no one she could confide in, no shoulder to lean on. She couldn’t even bring herself to explain it to Max, who was still too young to understand. So she kept it inside, replaying the pain and the anger in her mind like an endless, toxic loop. Every time she considered the possibility of forgiving Rex, that bitter voice inside her reminded her of every ounce of suffering she’d endured. It was exhausting, this endless dance between resentment and reluctant sympathy, a seesaw she was trapped on with no way off.

  Watching Max play always ended with a pang of sorrow mingled with her anger. She didn’t want him to see the turmoil she could barely contain, the confusion that weighed on her heart. But how could she escape it? Every time she caught a glimpse of Rex in Max’s smile or his stubborn little expressions, the wounds reopened.

  She wanted to move on, to find peace for both herself and her son. But as a dragon, every emotion burned deeply, each memory seared into her with a fire that didn’t fade. It was in her nature to hold onto grudges, to keep those who had hurt her at a distance. And yet… she knew that this bitterness was isolating her, leaving her stranded with a loneliness that even Max’s love couldn’t fully dispel.

  Chores.

  She needed the house to be clean.

  That was a good distraction to the toxicity of her headspace, and Max gave her plenty to work on. Maybe in the afternoon she could take Max to The Eyrie. The weather was nice and the scenic hilltop park had plenty of activities to do, on top of the sprawling views of the city and the bay.

  A sudden crash rang out from down the hall, jolting her back to the present. Her eyes narrowed—she knew exactly what that noise was. A closet door, one she’d kept firmly shut and insisted not be opened for over a year. She clenched her fists, feeling a flash of anger rise up as she stormed down the hall, following the sound.

  She reached the closet door, her heart pounding with irritation. There, in the midst of crumpled wrapping paper and scattered boxes, was Max, his eyes wide with delight as he tore into a freshly opened package, revealing a small, hand-carved model of a dragon in flight. His laughter filled the room as he held it up, spinning in circles.

  “Look, Mama! A dragon, just like you!” he beamed, the toy soaring through the air on an invisible journey. His face was radiant, his joy pure and unrestrained, oblivious to the world of emotions swirling within her.

  It was such a stupid gift. The wrapping paper was from the present Rex had tried to give her last year for Max’s birthday.

  “It’s got my colors. Look at the eyes! When do you think I will get wings?!” Max exclaimed as he rattled off the details of the gift as he happily flew it around in his hand.

  Katarina’s anger faltered, replaced by a sudden rush of conflicting emotions. She saw Rex in the details of each gift, each one a guess, a stab in the dark at what might bring joy to a son he barely knew. The toys, the thoughtful little trinkets… they were imperfect but earnest, proof of his relentless, clumsy efforts to give Max a piece of himself, even if he was absent from his life.

  “There are so many!” Max pointed to several of the other gifts of varying sizes. “Who are they from?”

  Her knees gave way, and she sank to the floor, feeling the weight of her heartbreak settle into her bones. She hadn’t wanted to keep these gifts, but somehow, she hadn’t been able to throw them away. She realized now that, somewhere deep down, a small part of her had clung to them. Maybe it was because Max deserved to know his father cared.

  Max noticed her silence and lowered the dragon, his bright smile fading as he gazed at her with concern. “Mama? Are you sad?”

  Her heart wrenched as she looked into his eyes, amber like his father’s, and it took her breath away. She reached out, gathering Max into her arms as she held him close. “No, darling,” she murmured, though her voice trembled. “Not sad, just… thinking.”

  Max snuggled into her, his little arms wrapped around her neck, and he whispered, “I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean to open the presents early.”

  She let out a shaky laugh, smoothing his fur as she kissed the top of his head. “It’s alright, Max. Some of them are yours, I just don’t remember which ones.”

  They sat there together. She closed her eyes, letting the moment linger as she held Max close, feeling the flicker of warmth that she tried so hard to protect within.