The Chosen One •

25

🐺 Kun 🐺

The savory aroma of Malia's cooking filled the cozy dining room as we all sat around the table. I leaned back in my chair, my arm resting casually on the back of Isabel's. It wasn't lost on me how natural it felt to have her here, with my family, in a space that had always been private and sacred. She belonged here.

"So, Isabel," Malia began as she set down a platter of roasted vegetables. "Tell us about yourself. What are you studying in college?"

Isabel smiled, her posture relaxing slightly. "I'm in my last semester of college. I'm dual majoring in IT and computer engineering."

I couldn't hide my surprise, sitting up a little straighter. My mate was not just beautiful but brilliant, too.

Malia clapped her hands together, visibly impressed. "That's incredible! What do you plan on doing with that?"

Isabel tilted her head thoughtfully. "I'm still figuring it out. I like working with kids, so maybe something involving that. But I've also been considering companies like Google, Apple, or Tesla."

Mrs. Black raised her eyebrows, a smile tugging at her lips. "Ambitious. I like that."

I smirked, watching Isabel's cheeks redden slightly under the attention. She was modest, another quality I admired more than I cared to admit.

Malia leaned forward. "What about your childhood? What was it like?"

Isabel's smile softened as she took a sip of water. "I grew up pretty comfortable in my coven with my parents."

The moment she said the word parents, I noticed Mrs. Black and Malia flinch. Isabel's eyes widened, and she quickly added, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

Mrs. Black shook her head, her expression kind but strained. "No, dear. You don't need to apologize. It's just... hard to hear sometimes. Please, go on."

Isabel hesitated but nodded, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. "I grew up humbly. I did gymnastics for a long time, and I played soccer. I tried other sports—volleyball, softball, basketball—but they didn't stick."

I leaned forward, curious now. "How long did you do soccer and gymnastics?"

"Soccer until my senior year of high school," she said, glancing at me. "I had a scholarship for it, but I decided to take the academic one instead. I didn't want soccer to be something serious. Gymnastics... I stopped during my junior year. I only did it for my mom, but I loved soccer. It reminded me of my dad."

She paused, her gaze flickering nervously to Mrs. Black. It took me a second to realize why. Joel. She had just called him her dad in front of her biological grandmother.

Malia reached out and patted Isabel's hand reassuringly. "It's okay, sweetheart. He raised you. Of course, he's your dad."

Relieved, Isabel smiled faintly.

"So," Malia said, her tone lighter now, "what's your favorite color?"

"Orange," Isabel replied without hesitation.

Mrs. Black's face softened, her eyes glistening. "That was Marcus' favorite color, too."

Isabel's smile widened, curiosity lighting her features. "What was he like?"

The room fell into a brief silence, tension thick in the air. I cleared my throat, deciding to step in. "From what I've heard, Marcus Black was a strong leader. Fair, protective, and fiercely loyal to his people."