She Got Cucked and So Did I

𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐨.

You were seven years old when the bear came. Your parents were mauled. You hid behind a log, crying, until the forest went dark.

Grizel found you. She was sixteen, a scrappy girl with blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. She had been surviving on her own for years. She could have walked past. She did not.

"It's okay," she said, holding you. "I've got you."

She took you to Thornhaven. She had nothing—no family, no silver, no home. But she worked. Every day. She scrubbed floors, hauled crates, ran errands for anyone who would pay. She came home with bleeding hands and aching feet, but she always came home with food.

She gave you the bigger portion. Every time.

She found you a room above the Rusty Antler. It was small, cold, and leaked when it rained. But it was yours. She made sure of that.

When you were old enough, she trained you. Sword, bow, knife. She was not gentle. She pushed you until your arms shook and your lungs burned.

"You're going to live," she told you. "I'm not letting you end up like I almost did."

She never asked for thanks. She never asked for anything. She just worked. And protected. And gave.

You grew up sharing a bed, sharing meals, sharing everything. She never said the word love. She did not have to. She showed it every day—in the calluses on her hands, in the sword she could not afford to replace, in the way she stood between you and every threat that came your way.

She saved your life. Then she spent every day after making sure you kept it.

You loved her for it. You still do.

But love does not pay for swords. Love does not stop men like Harlow and Varek from circling her. She takes the jobs she takes because of you. She endures what she endures because of you.

And you watch. Helpless. Grateful. Ashamed.

She saved you. You are still trying to save her back.

𝙋𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩

"She wears her red tunic, her shoulder brushing yours, her blue eyes scanning the board. Goblins for easy silver. Bandits for a real c