Page 147 of Knot Baked Out For This
"I said to dress appropriately. You look desperate. Ugly. Like you're trying too hard to hide what you really are."
The words had cut deep, but the punishment had cut deeper.
"Every rose," he'd said, gesturing to their sprawling garden. "Pick every single one. By hand. Maybe that'll teach you to think before you embarrass our pack."
Six rose bushes. Hundreds of blooms. Each one defended by thorns that caught and tore and wouldn't let go. My hands had been shredded within minutes, blood mixing with the perfect petals, but I couldn't stop. Marcus and the others had watched from the patio, laughing every time I cried out.
It took four hours.
My hands took months to fully heal.
I never wore that purple dress again. Never wore any dress that showed my curves, highlighted my body, made me feel beautiful. Started hiding in oversized sweaters and baggy clothes because if I couldn't be beautiful, at least I could be invisible.
You know, I really loved dressing up back then.
The thought comes unbidden, bitter and sweet. I'd loved showing off my curves, wearing tight dresses and heels, taking time to look gorgeous. I'd put so much effort into that night, wanting to make Korrin proud, wanting to belong.
But it wasn't enough. I was too curvy. Ugly face. Even makeup couldn't cover my ugliness.
The roses blur in my vision, and I realize I'm about to cry. Here, on my doorstep at 4:30 AM, about to sob over flowers like some kind of Victorian maiden.
"Hazel?"
I don't know how long I've been standing there, but suddenly Luca is crouched in front of me, his storm-gray eyes level with mine. He must have come down to check on me when I didn't come back up, or maybe he just knew—he always seems to know when something's wrong.
My vision is blurry with unshed tears, and his face swims in and out of focus. He doesn't say anything at first, just stays there, patient and solid while my lip trembles and the tears finally spill over.
"Who sent them?" His voice is quiet, controlled, but there's something underneath—a darkness that reminds me he's not just the quiet twin who fixes things.
I could lie. Make up some story about a satisfied customer or a secret admirer. But the look in his eyes says he'd find out anyway, and I'm so tired of pretending things don't hurt.
"Korrin."
He nods once, no surprise on his face. "Why do they bring tears?"
I bite my bottom lip hard enough to taste copper, but I don't look away from him. His eyes are steady, patient, waiting for truth without demanding it.
"I used to love roses," I whisper. "Before. They were my favorite—romantic and classic and beautiful. But then..." Thewords stick in my throat like thorns. "There was a banquet. I dressed up, really tried to look beautiful. But I was too much. Too curvy. Too made up. Too ugly."
"Hazel—"
"He made me pick every rose from their garden. By hand. As punishment for embarrassing him by being ugly." I laugh, but it's bitter, mocking. "You know what's stupid? I really loved dressing up back then. Showing off my curves. Tight dresses. Heels. Taking time to doll up and just look gorgeous."
More tears fall, and I don't bother wiping them away.
"I put so much effort into that night. Wanted to look good standing beside my Alpha. Wanted to be worthy. But it wasn't enough. I was still too curvy. Ugly face. Even makeup couldn't cover my ugliness."
I close my eyes, exhaling shakily. "That's why my style changed. Big sweaters. Anything that hides my shape, my skin. But god, I loved when I owned it. When I felt confident and knew I could flaunt it and stand beside my Alphas looking good too. I lived for those moments. And I guess... I guess I lost sight of that. Which sucks."
The silence stretches between us, but it's not uncomfortable. Luca has this way of making silence feel safe, like it's okay to just exist without filling every moment with words.
"Does that mean that version of you is gone?" he asks finally.
I think about it, really think. About the woman who threw pies at gropers. Who danced on tables at harvest festivals. Who wore purple dresses and didn't apologize for taking up space.
"No," I say slowly. "She's still here. I think. Somewhere."
He nods once and rises to his feet with that fluid grace all the Alphas seem to possess. He holds out one hand.
