Abigail sat behind the old storage shed near the servants' quarters, her arms wrapped around her knees. Lady Helena's words still echoed in her mind like poisoned arrows: "You are nothing more than a servant."
Her chest burned, but no tears came this time. She was too exhausted to cry. Maybe Helena was right maybe she was foolish for even hoping she could matter to anyone in this pack.
The crunch of footsteps on gravel startled her. She quickly wiped at her eyes, not wanting anyone to see her weakness. When she glanced up, Elenora stood a few feet away, holding a small basket.
"I thought I'd find you here," Elenora said softly, her tone free of the mockery Abigail had grown used to.
Abigail lowered her gaze. "I… I wasn't hiding."
Elenora smiled faintly, though her eyes betrayed concern. "Of course not. You were simply… resting. Alone." She crouched down and set the basket between them. Inside were a few rolls of warm bread and a jar of honey. "I thought you might be hungry."
The sight made Abigail's throat tighten. No one ever thought of her needs not unless it was to laugh at them. She hesitated before whispering, "Why are you being kind to me?"
Elenora tilted her head. "Because someone should be. You've suffered enough cruelty in this pack. I can't stop everyone else from being blind, but I can choose not to join them."
Abigail blinked rapidly, fighting the sting in her eyes. "Your mother… she told me to stay away from your brother. She thinks I'm…" She trailed off, unable to say the rest.
"I know what she thinks," Elenora said quietly. "My mother loves power and appearances more than people. But don't let her words break you, Abigail. You are worth more than she will ever admit."
Abigail's lips trembled. "But I'm just an omega."
"No," Elenora said firmly, taking her hand. "You're more than that. Don't let them reduce you to what they call you. You have a spirit they cannot crush not unless you let them."
For the first time in days, warmth spread in Abigail's chest. Elenora's kindness felt like a small flame in the darkness, fragile but real. She whispered, "Thank you… for seeing me."
Elenora squeezed her hand gently. "Always."
The two sat in silence, sharing bread under the fading light of evening. For Abigail, the taste was sweeter than any feast it wasn't the food, but the rare comfort of being treated like she mattered.