My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 168

Chapter 168: Chapter 168 ZARA

LUCIAN’S POV

My spine instinctively stiffened.

There was a roaring in my ears. A thundering in my chest. The two sensations crashed together, loud, relentless. I could barely think around the noise.

I could feel the faint vibration of the car’s idle hum, see the low beam of the headlights spilling across the driveway, but my thoughts were nowhere near the present.

They’d splintered backward—years backward—to a time when the world made sense. When my heart was whole.

“H-how did you know?”

I didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, until Sera’s voice—quiet, almost trembling—came again.

“I... suspected,” she said. “The way you got when we talked about mates, and again when you told me about your ‘friend’ who gave you the formula for the Moon Dew Nectar. And then I heard it, plain and simple, from...mouths at OTS.”

I closed my eyes. A long, steady exhale left me.

I should have known it would be inevitable. I should have told her first. I should have never hidden it from her.

I should have. I should have. I should have.

“Sera—”

“I wish I didn’t have to hear it from someone else,” she cut in, her tone sharper now. “I wish you’d just told me.”

The air between us thickened. Crickets filled the silence, their rhythmic hum syncing with the uneven beat of my pulse.

I turned toward her, finally forcing myself to meet her gaze. The faint glow of the headlights painted her profile in soft light, and gods, the hurt in her eyes gutted me.

“You’re right,” I admitted quietly. “You deserved to hear it from me. I just...” My voice trailed off as I raked a hand over my face.

“I didn’t want to affect your focus before the championship. You were already under immense pressure. I didn’t want to risk clouding your state of mind.”

The flimsy excuse sounded even weaker aloud than in my head.

“Lucian,” she said softly, “we’ve known each other long before the competition. What happened to all those times we had dinner, all the talks we had? When you asked me to be your girlfriend?”

Her words hit deep. Worst of all was that she wasn’t accusing me—she was wounded. And she had every right to be.

“I shared parts of myself with you that I haven’t shared with anyone else,” she went on, the softness of her voice not hiding the sting of her words. “And you just...held back.”

Guilt blazed in my chest.

I’d thought I was protecting her. But the truth was simpler, uglier: I’d been protecting myself.

From reopening a wound that had never fully healed.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. It was weak, pathetic. But it was all I could manage.

Before I could say anything more, a small voice broke through the heaviness.

“Mom?”

Sera immediately shifted, her entire demeanor softening as she went into mom-mode. “I’m here, baby.”

I rose from the steps as Daniel pushed open the car door, rubbing at his eyes, and she went to him.

“Are we home?” he yawned.

“Yes, my love,” she answered, brushing his hair back from his face.

“It’s late,” I said, moving around to open the driver’s door. “We should continue this tomorrow. Just us.”

Sera hesitated, then nodded. “Alright.”

She didn’t look at me again as she led her son up the porch steps and into the house.

I stood there long after the door closed, my reflection warped in my car’s darkened glass.

And I wished tomorrow wouldn’t come.

***

When Sera walked into the reception hall of OTS the following afternoon, every nerve in my body went on high alert.

Her expression was careful, neutral. Like she’d built a wall overnight and dared me to scale it.

I couldn’t bring myself to speak; I couldn’t think of any words that would be appropriate. Instead, I slowly extended my hand towards hers, and to my relief, she took it.

OTS was still buzzing with the aftermath of the LST, alive with noise—trainees moving between halls, laughter spilling from open windows, the grunting sound of sparring coming from the private rooms—but we didn’t speak a word as we walked, both of us ignoring the attention we garnered.

Eventually, the hum of the campus faded behind us as we crossed into the quieter annex at the far end.

The walk wasn’t long, but it might as well have been miles. Every step felt like walking on a tightrope.

And we hadn’t even gotten to the hard part yet.

When we finally stopped, Sera looked up, and recognition flickered in her eyes.

The OTS Historical Exhibition Hall.

“This isn’t just an explanation,” I said quietly. “You deserve to understand the whole story.”

And the best place to tell it was here, among ghosts and old beginnings.

Inside, the hall was quiet—sunlight slanting through the high windows, dust motes turning in the air like slow snow.

She’d been here before, when I initially gave her a tour OTS. Back in the beginning, before I knew who she really was, and what she would come to mean to me.

Her gaze skimmed the displays like they had that day, but now I watched her pay attention. Watched her gaze linger—not on the accolades or weapons or charts, but on the smaller, human details: the photographs, the faded notebooks, the first blueprints of our compound.

When we reached the far wall, I stopped.

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