Everyone said she only slept soundly when I was around.

Now she was healed, and everyone assumed we'd form a sacred bond.

Hell, I'd let myself dream about it too.

But standing outside that door, her words echoing in my head, I realized I'd been a fool. She was healed, Sebastian was back, and I, her "brother," was just in the way.

I took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.

The chatter stopped cold.

Every she-wolf in the room turned to me, their eyes flickering with guilt, like they'd been caught howling secrets.

"Ethan?" one of them probed, her voice tentative. "When did you arrive?"​

"Just this minute," I replied, managing a smile and pretending I hadn't caught a word. I passed the gift to Charlotte. "Well done on standing again."

I handed the gift to Charlotte. "Congrats on getting back on your feet."

She reached for it, but before she could take it, the door swung open again.

Sebastian stood there, eyes red-rimmed, voice thick.

"Charlotte, word is you're all better. I came over to mark the occasion."

The air in the room turned to ice.

Her friends' faces darkened, hackles practically raised.

"What are you doing here?" one snapped.

"When Charlotte got hurt, you bolted like a scared rabbit. Now you have the gall to show up?"

Sebastian's ears burned red, his eyes glistening as he shoved a gift into Charlotte's hands and turned to leave.

But then Charlotte grabbed his wrist.

"Stay," she said, her voice soft but firm.

The room went still. Every pair of eyes flicked to me.

I stood there, my smile frozen, but my nails dug into my palms hard enough to draw blood. Five years of my life, and it didn't hold a candle to one word from Sebastian.

The rest of the night was a nightmare.

Her friends tried to freeze Sebastian out, hyping me up instead, their voices loud and forced.

"Ethan, didn't you rub Charlotte's legs every day during rehab?" one asked, grinning too wide.

"Oh yeah," another jumped in.

"His hands were magic. Charlotte wouldn't let anyone else near her-she'd snarl if they tried."

I kept my head down, avoiding Sebastian's glare. But I could feel it-Charlotte's attention wasn't on me. It was all on him.

Halfway through, someone suggested a game.

Sebastian lost the first round, and the penalty was to get a she-wolf's contact info. He glanced at Charlotte, eyes pleading, but she just stared at her phone, ignoring him. His jaw tightened, and he stood, muttering, "Fine, the I'll do it."

I watched him stalk over to another table, where a group of flashy she-wolves, reeking of perfume and wine, swarmed him.

One grabbed his wrist, slurring, "Hey, hotshot, I'll add you, but let's see what you're working with first."

"Get off me!" Sebastian's growl cut through the noise.

Charlotte's head snapped up. In a flash, she was on her feet, stormniest a paw across the she-wolf's face. "Back off!"

All hell broke loose.

Her friends rushed to pull her back, yelling, "Charlotte, stop!"

I bolted toward her, worried her newly healed body couldn't handle a brawl. "Charlotte, don't-"

She shoved me hard. "Get out of my way!"

I stumbled, my foot slipping on the stairs.

Down I went, tumbling, my head slamming against the tile.

Pain exploded, and warm blood trickled down my forehead, blurring my vision.

I struggled to sit up, but through the haze, I saw Charlotte grab Sebastian's arm and pull him away. She didn't even glance back at me.

My chest felt like it was caving in, the pain worse than the blood seeping from my head. I remembered the days when she'd been broken, smashing a chair against her useless legs in a rage.

I'd thrown myself in front of her, taking the hit, my ribs cracking under the blow.

She'd screamed at me, tears streaming down her face.

"My legs are useless! It doesn't matter! Are you trying to die? Don't you know what's worth saving?"

I'd been sweating through the pain, but I'd held her legs tight and whispered, "I know what's worth saving. Your legs matter, and I'm gonna make sure you walk again."

That day, she'd trembled in my arms, her pride crumbling as she choked out, "Ethan, don't leave me."

Everyone called her recovery a miracle. But it wasn't. I

t was me, clawing her out of that abyss, piece by piece.

Now, she'd walked out of that abyss-and left me behind.

My phone buzzed, jarring me from the memory. I fumbled it out, the screen glaring with "Ms. Kingsley."

Charlotte's mother. I knew what was coming.

Her voice was smooth, polite, but sharp as a blade.

"Ethan, Charlotte's heir of the pack now. Her mate needs to be someone with status, someone who can lift her higher. I'm grateful for your Five years of loyalty, but let's be clear-if it wasn't for our pack's support, you'd never have made it to college. That debt's paid. We're even."

She paused, probably expecting me to beg or rage. I just stared down the empty hallway where Charlotte had disappeared with Sebastian.

"Okay," I said, my voice calm as a grave. "I'm gone. You won't see me again."

I hung up the phone and headed straight to the hospital. The gash on my forehead took Five stitches, and the healer warned me to keep it dry.

I nodded, numb, and shuffled out of the clinic.

That's when I spotted Charlotte's Bentley parked not far from the entrance, its window cracked open. Inside, Sebastian was hunched over her shoulder, his voice thick with tears.

"Charlotte, I messed up back then." he choked out.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, but I had no choice. My parents wouldn't let us be together-they shipped me off other packs, took my phone, everything. I didn't want to leave you."

Charlotte sat there, silent, her profile soft in the dim light. I stood frozen, my feet rooted to the ground, watching from the shadows.

"Why'd you come back then?" she finally asked, her voice low, like a distant howl.

Sebastian's head dropped, tears streaking down his face.

"Because I can't forget you. I know you've got Ethan now, and I'm not asking for anything. Just don't chase me away. Let me stay, even if it's just to watch you from afar."

My chest tightened as Charlotte stayed quiet for what felt like forever. Then she reached out, gently wiping his tears away.

"I don't blame you," she said.

"And Ethan. he's just a brother to me, nothing like what you're thinking."

Sebastian's eyes lit up, a shaky smile breaking through. "Really?"

She nodded, and he pulled her into a hug, sobbing with relief.

I let out a bitter laugh under my breath and turned away, heading straight for the Registry office.

At the Registry office, the clerk slid a form across the counter. "Visa'll be ready in two weeks."

I thanked him and stepped outside into the darkening sky.

My next stop was Charlotte's villa, where I'd lived for Five years to take care of her.

I'd been naive enough to think of it as home.

The entryway still had the slippers I'd picked out, the living room my woven blankets, the dining room a tattered note with my "gut-friendly recipes" taped to the cabinet. Now, I had to erase every trace of myself.

While packing, I found a photo . It was from the day Charlotte nailed her rehab, standing tall, her rare smile lighting up the frame. I stood beside her, grinning like an idiot, my eyes glinting with unshed tears.

The edges of the photo were worn, rubbed raw from how many times I'd held it.

I stared at it for a long time before tossing it into the trash.

Some dreams were better left dead.

"I forgot my stomach meds," she said, her voice husky from sleep, casual like last night never happened. "Can you drop them off at the office?"

I paused for a beat. "Sure."

When I got to her office, the elevator doors slid open, and there was Sebastian, holding a fancy box, his smile as warm as a summer day.

"Hey, small world," he said. "I'm bringing Charlotte some salad. Wanna join?"

I didn't answer, just followed him into her office.

Charlotte was buried in paperwork, but her brow arched when she saw us together. "What, you two carpooling now?"

"Ran into him downstairs," Sebastian said, popping open the lunch box. The spicy aroma of hot pot filled the room.

"Got your favorite-extra lime juice!"

My stomach dropped. "Her gut can't handle sour food," I said, voice tight.

Charlotte glanced at me, then grabbed a spoon.

"It's fine once in a while."

She scooped up a piece of lemon salad and ate it without flinching.

My hand clenched around the bag of meds, knuckles white.

It didn't take long for sweat to bead on her forehead, her fingers trembling as she gripped her pen.

"You okay, Charlotte?" Sebastian asked, concern in his voice.

"I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile.

"I've got work to do. You guys head out."

I gave her a long look, set the meds on her desk, and walked away.

Downstairs, I couldn't hold it in.

"Her stomach's fragile," I told Sebastian. "Maybe think about that next time you bring her food."

He laughed, a sharp, mocking sound.

"Ethan, you still don't get it, do you? To Charlotte, you're just a glorified caretaker. You're supposed to keep track of that stuff. Me? I'm different. She loves me. I don't have to play by those rules."

He leaned closer, his grin cutting like a blade. "If I handed her poison, she'd swallow it with a smile. You get that, right?"

My fingers shook, my heart ripping open all over again. He wasn't wrong. I'd spent Five years fighting to earn a single glance from her. Sebastian? He didn't have to try. She'd take his poison and thank him for it.

That night, Charlotte came home looking like death warmed over, her face pale as moonlight. I was in the kitchen pouring water when I heard her stumble in.

The glass nearly slipped from my hand.

"You didn't take your meds?" I asked, my voice tight.

"It got bad. Had to get my stomach pumped at the hospital," she said, collapsing onto the couch, her bangs plastered to her forehead with cold sweat.

My hand shook, hot water splashing across my knuckles, leaving a red burn. She loved Sebastian that much?

Enough to eat his food even if it meant a trip to the healer?

I grabbed a glass of warm water and knelt beside her, gently rubbing her stomach. She sipped the water, and as my hands worked to ease her pain, her furrowed brow softened. She slumped against my shoulder, drifting off like she had a hundred times before.

But this time, I didn't linger on the curve of her face or the way her breath steadied against me. I laid her down on the couch, draped a blanket over her, and walked upstairs without looking back.

The next morning, Charlotte was already dressed in a sharp suit, standing in the living room, frowning at the bare spaces where my stuff used to be.

"Why's the house looking so empty?" she asked.

I opened my mouth to explain, but she cut me off. "Sebastian's got an art show today. He invited us."

"I-"

"He just got back to the pack," she said, her tone firm. "He doesn't have many friends here. Come on, let's show some support."

My fingers clenched, but I nodded.

At the gallery, Sebastian lit up when he saw Charlotte, looping his arm through hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Charlotte! You've gotta see this one," he said, pointing to an oil painting of a snow-capped mountain, his voice soft as a whisper. "I painted this in Redmont. I was thinking of you every single day."

Charlotte listened quietly, her eyes fixed on the canvas, unreadable. By the end of the show, she bought every single painting.

Whispers rippled through the crowd.