Page 37 of Alien Charming

“You heard me. I won’t have a girl with your… proclivities under my roof. Corrupting the household. Shaming me before the entire village.” A cold sneer crossed her aunt’s face. “Go to your beast if you want him so badly, but don’t expect to come crawling back with some half-breed pup. You’ll find your belongings on the porch by morning.”

Unable to face that harsh gaze any longer, she turned and fled deeper into the forest, tears blurring her vision, but she couldn’t escape her aunt’s cruel words. Each breath came in painful gasps, her chest tight with grief and shame.

She stumbled over an exposed root and pitched forward. She managed to break her fall, but one of her borrowed slippers fell off, disappearing into the underbrush. She paused for a heartbeat, then abandoned it. Nothing mattered now—not the slipper, not the torn dress, not even the dirt smudging her palms.

The reality of her situation crashed over her. Homeless. Cast out. Nowhere to go.

At least her mother had chosen to leave. Or had she? Perhaps she had been desperate—not for a man, but for an escape from Margaret’s cruelty.

The night that had begun with such magic now mocked her with its darkness. She finally came to a halt next to a huge ancient tree and slid down to the forest floor, drawing her knees to her chest.

“What am I going to do?” she whispered to the indifferent forest as her sobs faded away to a few shuddery breaths.

Try to return to Aunt Margaret’s house? Impossible. Even if she begged forgiveness and her aunt took her back, nothing would change what her aunt thought of her. She’d bring it up over and over, setting barbs in her flesh each time. The village offered no refuge either. Who would take in the disgraced niece of Mayor Jacobson? Even if her aunt kept the reason for her banishment to herself, no one would want a strange, simpleminded girl.

Seren… Her heart twisted painfully. He’d said he wanted to claim her, but he hadn’t. Had he already been having doubts? What would he think when he discovered she’d disappeared? Would he believe she’d abandoned him, rejected him?

The forest floor felt cold beneath her, its dampness seeping through the beautiful dress. She had no money, no provisions,no plan. Just the clothes on her back and a lifetime of being told she was worthless.

The tears began to fall again, and the forest absorbed them silently. She hugged her knees until her sobs subsided into hiccups. The night sounds of the forest gradually filtered back into her awareness—the rustle of leaves, the distant hooting of an owl, the faint music and laughter from the ceremony she’d fled.

She wiped her tearstained face with the back of her hand. Sitting here crying wouldn’t solve anything. She needed a plan, somewhere to go, something to do.

The beautiful dress clung damply to her legs, the delicate fabric snagged and soiled. Agatha’s dress. The kind old woman who had helped her, who had made tonight possible, even if it had ended in disaster.

I have to return it, even in its current state, she decided.

Standing on shaky legs, she brushed dirt from the skirt as best she could. She removed the remaining slipper and carried it with her, the forest floor cool and damp beneath her bare feet.

Thank goodness Agatha didn’t live in the village. With any luck she could find her way to her cottage without being spotted. She would return the dress, explain what had happened, and… then what? The thought of imposing further on the old woman’s kindness made her stomach twist with shame, but she had nowhere else to go.

“Perhaps she’d let me borrow a plain dress,” she murmured to herself as she picked her way carefully through the trees. “Something suitable for travel.” Though where she would travel to, she had no idea.

The lights of the village appeared through the trees, and her steps slowed. What if someone saw her? What if word got back to Aunt Margaret? But she couldn’t wander the forest all night in a torn gown.

Taking a deep breath, she skirted the edge of the village, keeping to the shadows, then hurried down the road towards Agatha’s cottage. To her relief, a light was still on inside creating a welcoming glow, but she hesitated at the garden gate, doubt gnawing at her resolve.

What if Agatha wasn’t home? What if she became angry about the ruined dress?

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the gate and walked silently up the path. She raised a trembling hand to knock on the door, but before her knuckles made contact, the door swung open, revealing Agatha’s familiar face, lined with concern.

“Oh, my dear girl.” Agatha sighed as she took in Elli’s disheveled appearance—the torn dress, the bare feet, the tearstained face. “Come in, come in quickly.”

She hesitated on the threshold. “Your beautiful dress—I’ve ruined it. And I lost one of the slippers.”

Agatha waved away her concerns, gently pulling her inside. “Dresses can be mended, child. You cannot.”

The cottage was warm and smelled of herbs and fresh bread. Despite her distress, her shoulders relaxed slightly as Agatha guided her to a cushioned chair by the fire.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, holding out the remaining slipper. “Aunt Margaret saw me come out of the woods with Seren. She—she’s thrown me out.”

Agatha’s face darkened. “That woman. Let me make you some tea.”

“I shouldn’t impose?—”

“Nonsense. You’re not imposing. I invited you, remember?”

The old woman disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a teapot and two mugs.

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