CHAPTER 76: CHAPTER 76

Chapter 76

Astrid’s POV

The final credits of Erin Brockovich scrolled up the massive screen, the triumphant, feel-good music filling the quiet theater. I didn’t move. I sat perfectly still in the plush leather recliner, the half-eaten bowl of popcorn resting forgotten in my lap. My mind wasn’t on the snacks or the luxurious comfort of the room; it was replaying scenes from the movie, overlaying them with moments from my own life.

A woman who was loud when she was expected to be quiet. A woman who was dismissed because she didn’t look or act the part. A woman who was underestimated at every single turn, yet who possessed a fire and a sense of justice that no one could extinguish. A woman who found her strength not by conforming, but by being unapologetically herself.

Kaeleen hadn’t just picked a movie he thought I’d like. He had picked a movie he thought I needed. And was he right? Yes.

He hadn’t said a word, hadn’t pointed out the obvious. He didn’t have to. The message was delivered with a quiet respect that was more powerful than any lecture or pep talk. He wasn’t telling me to be strong; he was showing me that he already believed I was. He saw the fighter in me, the one buried under years of abuse and self-doubt. He saw the Erin Brockovich, not the broken victim. The realization settled in my chest, a warm and steady glow that chased away the last of the shadows from the night before. It was one of the kindest, most insightful things anyone had ever done for me.

The silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that had just passed between us. I felt seen in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Finally, Kaeleen stirred in the recliner next to me. The light from the credits cast his strong profile in a soft glow.

"So?" he asked, his voice low and gentle. "What did you think?"

I turned to look at him, a small, genuine smile touching my lips. I could have talked about the brilliant acting or the powerful story, but that would have felt like a deflection. Instead, I kept it simple, letting the truth of my feelings resonate in the quiet space.

"It was really good," I said. "Thank you for showing it to me."

He nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. He understood that I understood. Nothing more needed to be said.

He reached for the tablet that controlled the room, his fingers swiping across the screen. "That was a bit heavy, though," he said, a playful smirk returning to his face. "I think we need to balance it out. Are you interested in something a little more... lighthearted?"

My curiosity was piqued. "What did you have in mind?" I asked, setting the popcorn bowl aside.

I wasn’t big on movies. I really didn’t know much about them but it seems like Kaeleen knew about them. Perhaps that was why he was annoyed by the fact that there was no television back in the moonshade pack.

His smirk widened into a full-blown grin, revealing a hint of the mischievous boy I was beginning to see beneath the powerful Alpha exterior. "You’ll see," he said mysteriously.

With another tap on the screen, the credits vanished, and a new image filled the vast expanse. Bright, cartoonish colors exploded before my eyes, accompanied by an upbeat, quirky soundtrack. A flock of ridiculously shaped, flightless birds appeared, bumbling around a tropical island. The title card flashed onto the screen: The Angry Birds Movie.

I stared at it, completely bewildered. A cartoon? Based on a video game? I had played the game some years back and I had no idea they even made a cartoon out of it. I turned to look at him, an incredulous laugh bubbling up inside me.

"Seriously?"

"What?" he said, feigning innocence as he leaned back and grabbed a handful of sour gummy worms. "It’s a cinematic masterpiece. A poignant commentary on anger management and architectural integrity."

"Poignant? Are you getting all fancy on me?" I asked him.

"What?" He gasped in mock outrage. "I’ve always been fancy." He said to me,

Yeah right.

I rolled my eyes, but I was already smiling. The absurdity of it was charming. The movie started, and within the first five minutes, I found myself captivated by the humor. I started with a quiet chuckle when the main character, a grumpy red bird named Red, face-planted into a birthday cake. Then, a few minutes later, a full laugh escaped me when a giant bird accidentally launched himself into the ocean.

Soon, I wasn’t holding back at all. I was laughing freely, my head thrown back, my shoulders shaking. I wasn’t conscious of how I looked or sounded. I wasn’t worried about being judged. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I was simply enjoying a moment of pure, uncomplicated joy. The sound of my own laughter felt foreign and wonderful, a forgotten melody returning to my lips. Kaeleen was laughing too, his deep, rumbling chuckle a warm counterpoint to my own.

We were in the middle of a particularly ridiculous scene involving a group of green pigs attempting to steal the birds’ eggs, when a low buzzing sound interrupted the cartoon chaos. Kaeleen’s phone, which he’d placed on the armrest, was vibrating.

He glanced down at it, and a small frown creased his brow. He sighed, a sound of fond exasperation, and picked it up. His thumb moved quickly across the screen as he read a message.

He looked over at me, the light from his phone illuminating his face. "That was Yvonne," he said. He paused, his expression unreadable. "Did you, uh, meet her earlier today?"

"I did," I confirmed, my laughter subsiding. "By the pond. She came to pick up her son."

"Right," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Well, my dear cousin has just sent me a rather demanding text message." He turned the phone screen toward me slightly. The message was short and to the point: ’Did you get Astrid the canvas yet? Don’t be cheap. Get her the big one. And the good paints.’

I couldn’t help but smile at her bossiness.

Kaeleen sighed again, though a smile played on his own lips. "She’s a brat. She loves acting like she knows something I don’t. So, what’s this about a canvas? Are you holding out on me?" he teased.

The lighthearted mood shifted slightly, a familiar flutter of anxiety returning to my stomach. The canvas. It had felt like such a hopeful possibility when Yvonne had suggested it, but now, faced with the reality of it, the fear crept back in.

"We were talking," I began, my voice a little quieter now. "She saw my sketchbook." I gestured vaguely toward the living room where I’d left it. "There was a drawing I did... it was more abstract. Just feelings, I guess. She said it was good, and she asked if I’d ever thought about doing it on a bigger canvas."

I looked down at my hands, twisting my fingers in my lap. "She said the sketchbook was too small for the work I was about to create."

"And?" Kaeleen asked, his voice gentle, encouraging.

"I didn’t really say anything," I admitted. "But she told me to tell you to get me one."

"And do you want one?" he asked, the question simple but loaded with meaning.

I hesitated, the conflict warring inside me. Part of me, the part that had been nourished by Leon’s cruelty, screamed that it was a terrible idea. A canvas was so... permanent. So big. It wasn’t a private little book that I could hide away. A canvas was a statement. It was meant to be seen. What if I tried and it was awful? What if I stared at the vast, empty white space and couldn’t create anything at all? What if Leon was right, and it was just a silly, childish waste of time? The thought of failing on such a grand scale was terrifying.

But then, another voice, a quieter one that was slowly growing stronger, whispered back. It was the voice that had been stirred by Yvonne’s genuine praise. The voice that had felt a thrill at the idea of creating something large and bold. It was the voice that wanted to live for me, to explore the things that brought me joy, no matter how scary they seemed.

"I... I’ve never done it before," I said, finally looking up at him, letting him see the uncertainty in my eyes. "Drawing has always been something just for me. Something small and private. The idea of a big canvas... it’s intimidating." I took a breath. "But... I think I want to try."

The words felt huge, a declaration of intent. I want to try.

Kaeleen’s face softened into a warm, supportive smile. "Okay," he said simply. "Then we’ll get you a canvas. We’ll get you the biggest one they have. And all the ’good paints’," he added, quoting Yvonne’s text with a chuckle. "And if you get it and you hate it, you can use it as a dartboard. If you start and you feel stuck, you can call Yvonne and demand she come help you. There’s no pressure, Astrid. It’s just paint and cloth. It’s supposed to be fun."

His reassurance was like a soothing balm on my frayed nerves. He wasn’t pushing me. He was just opening a door and telling me it was okay to be afraid to walk through it.

"Thank you," I said, my voice thick with gratitude.

To shift away from the intensity of the moment, I added, "I met her son, by the way. Christian. He is absolutely adorable." I smiled at the memory of the chocolate-smudged toddler. "I didn’t even know she was married."

Kaeleen let out a short laugh. "Oh, she’s not," he said, shaking his head. "Yvonne’s situation is... a bit complicated."

"Complicated how?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Complicated in that she’s a world-class bonehead," he said, the insult clearly laced with deep affection. "She’s the most stubborn person I know, besides maybe my mother. She and Christian’s father... let’s just say they have a history and neither of them is willing to back down yet. So, for now, she’s a single mom raising the future beta of a neighbouring pack."

"Was he abusive?" I asked him.

"Nah. The whole pregnancy was accidental and Yvonnee claims she wants nothing to do with the father and that she can care for Christian herself."

"So Christian doesn’t know his dad?" I asked curious.

"He does. And they are close also. The issue is Yvonne. But I know they’ll sort out their issues."

"You make it sound so simple."

"It could be. But like I said, they are both idiots." He shook his head again, a look of fond exasperation on his face. "Family is messy."

I smiled. It was nice, hearing about these messy, complicated family dynamics. It was normal. It was real.

The movie was still playing on the screen, the silly birds and pigs engaged in some new antic. Kaeleen reached over and grabbed a handful of popcorn, settling back into his chair. The heavy conversations were done for the night. All that was left was the comfortable silence, the shared snacks, and the simple, joy that came with watching a cartoon.