The sun had already begun to sink behind the trees, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Ryan and Mia were still lying on the blanket, their hands intertwined as the meadow grew quieter around them. The food basket was almost empty, but neither of them cared about that anymore—they were lost in each other's company.
Mia turned her head to look at Ryan. "You know… we've talked about the present, about us now, but I realize I don't really know much about the younger Ryan. What was your childhood like?"
Ryan was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. He exhaled slowly. "Strict. Very strict."
Mia squeezed his hand gently, urging him to continue.
"My father never saw me as just a boy. From the moment I could walk, he treated me as the next Alpha. I was expected to be strong, to command respect, to never show weakness." Ryan's jaw tightened, his voice low. "While other kids played, I trained. Sword fighting, strategies, combat drills, endless lessons about leadership. There were days I'd cry from exhaustion, but my father's answer was always the same: 'An Alpha doesn't cry.'"
Mia's chest ached hearing that. She moved closer, resting her head lightly on his shoulder. "That sounds… lonely."
"It was." His eyes softened as he glanced at her. "My mother tried to balance things. She would sneak me sweets, tell me bedtime stories, remind me that I was still her little boy. But in the end, I grew up faster than I should have. I had no choice. My pack depended on me becoming the Alpha my father wanted."
Mia ran her fingers over his hand, tracing invisible circles. "And did you ever wish for something else? A normal life?"
Ryan gave a small, sad smile. "Sometimes. But then I think… if my life had been different, maybe I wouldn't have found you. And I wouldn't trade you for anything."
Mia's heart fluttered, and she looked away, blinking back the sting of tears. "You know… my childhood was the opposite of yours. No training, no parents, no expectations—just… nothing."
Ryan frowned gently. "What do you mean?"
"I grew up in an orphanage." Mia's voice was steady, but her eyes carried the weight of old memories. "It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't a home either. There were too many of us, not enough care. I remember sharing everything—beds, food, clothes. If you wanted something, you had to fight for it. And birthdays… they just passed by like any other day. No cake. No gifts. Just another day to survive."
Ryan's chest tightened, his protective instincts flaring. He pulled her closer, holding her against him. "Mia…"
She continued, her voice softer now. "I used to watch other kids get adopted. Families would come in, smile, take someone's hand, and just like that—they had a home. I always hoped it would be me, but it never was. So I stopped waiting. I learned to depend on myself, to work hard, to keep moving forward."
Ryan kissed the top of her head, his grip firm but gentle. "No child should have gone through that. You deserved love every single day, Mia."
She lifted her head to look at him, her eyes glassy but strong. "And you deserved to be a child, not just an Alpha in training."
Their gazes locked, the weight of their pasts hanging between them. Then Mia smiled softly. "Maybe that's why we fit. You grew up with too much responsibility, and I grew up with none. You had a crown waiting for you, and I had… nothing. But together, we balance each other."
Ryan's lips curved into a tender smile. "You're right. Maybe that's the moon goddess's plan. Two broken pieces, fitting together to make something whole."
Mia leaned in, brushing her lips softly against his. "Then I guess we're exactly where we're supposed to be."
Ryan kissed her back deeply, his hands cradling her face, as the last light of the sunset bathed them in gold. And in that moment, the burdens of their childhoods didn't matter anymore—because together, they had found something far stronger than the past.