- Luca

I walked into the house past midnight, still wired from the pack meeting that refused to end. My head was fizzing with stress from territory disputes, budget headaches, and warriors complaining about training schedules.

All of it piled on top of each other until it was enough to make me crazy.

But under all that noise?

Aria.

Earlier at dinner, she was totally silent. She kept dodging my eyes when I tried to talk. She was moving around the house like I had the plague.

I told myself I wasn't thinking about her. But I was.

All damn night!

And it irritated me more than the stupid meeting did.

Now I wanted quiet.

Instead, my steps froze the moment I walked into the study corner.

The small desk lamp was still on.

We shared this desk once. It used to be hers-before the kids, before everything went sideways and salty. She did her sketches here, her late-night readings, her quiet little hobbies I ignored because I was too busy being a duty-obsessed Alpha.

The desk looked like someone was packing up their life piece by piece.

Her laptop sat open.

I walked over and was about to shut it off when my eyes caught on the screen.

Some tabs. A dozen job applications.

Different packs. Different cities. Seamstress work. Designer apprenticeships. Freelance tailoring.

I didn't even notice until my hand landed on the table. I saw her resume. Her skill list. Her portfolio of designs-clothes she never showed me, never bragged about, never once tried to make me notice.

My stomach dropped.

This wasn't a threat; she was dead serious about leaving.

She had been quietly building a world outside of mine, just for herself and our children.

A nasty knot twisted in my gut. Was it jealousy, guilt, or panic? All I knew was I hated the feeling.

Furious, I slammed the laptop shut.

I stood frozen there for a long moment. Then I walked upstairs, moving too quietly.

I pushed open the bedroom door. It was empty.

The bed was made. Her nightgown was gone from the hook on the door. The bathroom was dark.

A slow, simmering anger built in my chest.

Where the hell was she?

It was nearly one in the morning. The twins were asleep. The nanny had gone home hours ago.

I checked my phone. No messages.

I scanned my contacts. Then I did something I never do, tapping Find My Mate.

A green dot pulsed on the map.

And my blood ran hot.

My chest tightened.

That's when I heard her laugh.

I heard a soft, clear, happy laugh from the balcony.

I froze.

Aria. laughing? At this hour?

I walked toward the balcony, slower this time, quiet enough that I heard her through the half-open door.

"Hey, stop," she giggled cheerfully in a way I hadn't heard in years. "If I mess up the interview, you'd better pretend you don't know me."

Her laughter faded into a playful groan. "Don't tease me. I finally told him about the divorce. And guess what? He didn't freak out. Maybe the Moon Goddess took pity on me."

My jaw clenched hard.

She talked like it was already finalized, without even telling me first. Like I was history, a finished chapter she was neatly closing up.

That unwelcome, stabbing pain hit my chest hard.

I pushed the door open.

Aria looked up, briefly startled, but the shock quickly vanished. Her bright joy disappeared, replaced by a storm cloud the moment our eyes met.

"Hey, I'll call you back," she said quickly, and ended the call.

The room suddenly felt too quiet.

I leaned against the doorframe. "What are you doing?"

"Talking to my friend."

"Who was it? Tell me now," I demanded.

"Why do you care?"

"Tell me. Or I'll find out myself."

"Not that it's any of your business," she shot back.

Because someone else got her warm laughter, and I couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed like that.

But I wasn't about to say all that.

"You've never laughed like that with me," I said instead.

"Maybe because you never gave me space to."

Blood roared in my ears.

My anger flared. "I told you, Aria. We're not done."

"Oh, really? Because you seemed pretty done when you left me alone in our room last night." She crossed her arms, defiantly.

I couldn't stop myself from stepping closer, my gaze fixed on the screen of her phone. "You told everyone that we're getting a divorce?"

She hesitated, then her chin lifted. "Yes."

A fresh surge of rage boiled in me. "You don't get to make that decision alone."

"Watch me," she said. "The paperwork is already in process."

I took a heavy step forward, moving into her space until I could feel the warmth coming off her skin. She backed up instinctively, sucking in a sharp breath.

My patience snapped. I grabbed her wrist, not to hurt her, but to keep her from running.

"You think you can just walk away?" I asked, my voice dangerously low.

She tried to pull away.

"I think I can," she whispered, standing her ground, even though I could see a faint tremor in her hands. "And I think I will."

"And what were you doing with your laptop?"

She hesitated. "Working."

"There were many job applications."

Her jaw twitched. "Yes."

"You're actually doing it," I said before I could stop myself. My grip tightened just enough to make a point. "You're seriously planning to leave."

Her breath caught. For a moment, I thought she was about to shove me away or snap back. But she didn't. She went still, looked right at me, and in that split second, there was something in her eyes that I hadn't seen in years.

Fear.

And I hated it.

I hated that I was the reason she looked so worn down. I hated whoever was on that phone, making her smile like they owned a part of her. And I hated myself for not noticing how much she was hurting until it was almost too late.

I decided to let her go.

*****

- Luca

Aria stumbled back, rubbing her wrist and clutching her pale face.

"I've been serious," she replied calmly. "You just never cared to listen."

Those words cut deep, sharper than claws.

She walked past me, grabbing her pillow from the bed.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm sleeping in the guest room."

"No," I snapped. "You're not."

She blinked. "We don't need to share a room, Luca."

"We're married."

She let out a dry, tiny laugh. "Are we? Because it hasn't felt like it in a long time."

"Aria-"

"I'm not staying here tonight."

It pissed me off more because I could see it-she was done with me. She had even made careful plans and calculations.

It made me more furious as I had no idea how long she'd been planning all this.

"Aria, we can talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," she said softly. "You don't love me. You don't even like me most days."

"That's not-"

"And that's fine," she cut in. "But I'm not staying trapped like this. I'm tired."

She moved past me, still clutching the pillow tightly. "I'm sleeping in the guest room."

"Aria."

She paused at the doorway, just for a breath, just long enough to look back at me.

Her eyes weren't angry, just completely worn out.

"I don't want to fight anymore," she murmured. "Goodnight, Luca."

Then she disappeared down the hall.

I stood there in our bedroom, in the cold quiet she left behind, feeling that hollow ache expand in my chest.

My mate was slipping away.

And for the first damn time.

I realized I didn't want to let her go.

But I didn't go after her right away.

I stood in the dark hallway like an idiot, breathing hard, trying to decide if I should let her cool off. or drag her back into the room and finish this fight before it rotted between us.

But Aria never let things rot.

She walked away before I even knew there was a problem.

I exhaled sharply and followed her.

She was in the guest room, pulling a blanket out of the cabinet like she was used to this-like this wasn't the first time she'd packed her things and gone.

"Aria," I said from the doorway.

She didn't turn. "Don't start."

That hit harder than it should have.

So I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. "No. We should really talk."

Her shoulders tensed. "We already did."

"Not enough."

She tossed the blanket on the bed. "Luca, I'm tired. I want to sleep."

I wasn't letting her escape this time.

"Who were you talking to?" I asked.

Her head snapped toward me. "Are we seriously doing this?"

"Yeah," I said, heat rising up my neck. "We are."

She crossed her arms. "It was Nova."

"Sounded like more than Nova."

The words came out before I could stop them.

Her jaw literally dropped. "Excuse me?"

"You've been acting weird," I said. "Avoiding me. Smiling at your phone like-"

"Like what?" she shot back. "Like someone actually makes me feel human for five minutes a day?"

That stung.

She didn't stop. "You think I'm cheating on you? Is that it?"

I clenched my teeth. "I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

"I asked a question."

"You accused me," she corrected sharply. "Because in your head, I can't want a divorce unless I already have someone else lined up. Right?"

She wasn't wrong.

But I hated hearing it out loud.

"That's not what I-"

"Because spirits forbid I'm leaving you," she said, her voice shaking with anger, "simply because I don't want to die slowly in a marriage where you look through me like I'm air."

I stepped forward. "Aria-"

"You're not suffering?" she cut in. "You're miserable too, Luca. You think I don't see it? You think I want to trap you? You think I enjoy this?"

My chest tightened. "Then why leave now?"

"Because we're hurting each other," she said, and her voice cracked just a bit. "Because I'm so tired. Because staying feels worse than leaving."

Something ugly curled in my throat. "Yeah? And that's why you're suddenly looking for apartments? Jobs? A new life? A new man?"

"Luca!" she shouted. "Stop putting a man in this! I just want my life back!"

We stared at each other, both breathing hard.

She was the first to look away.

I hated how she shrank back, acting like I was about to break her.

"So," I said quietly, "all of this. it goes back to the pregnancy, doesn't it?"

Aria froze.

Yeah. There it was.

"That night," I said, voice rough, "you told me you took the morning-after pill. But you got pregnant anyway. That's why you think I blame you."

She turned slowly, eyes sharp. "Luca, I... took... that... damn... pill."

"I know you said-"

"I did," she insisted. "I walked to the bathroom myself. I swallowed it. And I still got pregnant. No scheme. I didn't set you up, and I didn't force anything."

Her voice cracked, as if releasing all the hurt she'd been holding in for ages.

"And you," she whispered, "spent months avoiding me like I'd stolen something from you."

I closed my eyes for a second as guilt punched me right in the stomach.

"I didn't know what to do," I admitted. "I didn't know how to deal with everything. I messed up."

"That's an understatement," she said softly.

Silence stretched between us.

I took a breath. "Last night. did you take it again?"

Her brows pulled together. "What?"

"The pill."

Her expression shifted, pain flashing before she hid it again. "No."

My stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't take it this time," she muttered. "Because I'm still breastfeeding. The hormones mess with my cycle. It's not recommended."

I blinked. "So you might be-"

"Pregnant?" she finished for me. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not."

Her last words cracked a little, and something in my chest tightened.

She shook her head. "I'm done fighting for now. Just let me sleep here."

"I don't want you in a separate room," I muttered.

"And I don't want to sleep next to a man who thinks I have another lover."

That shut me up fast.

She turned her back and pulled the blanket over herself.

I stood there for a long moment, swallowing the frustration, the panic, the stupid hurt clawing up my throat.

Then I backed toward the door.

"I wasn't accusing you," I said quietly.

She remained silent.

"I just. didn't like the way you smiled at your phone," I admitted.

She didn't turn or make a sound. She just curled up on the guest bed like that's exactly where she belonged.

I stepped into the hallway.

The silence hit me like a wall.

An ugly truth started to scream in my head.

Divorce? Absolutely not. She's not going anywhere.

And I especially didn't want anyone else making her smile the way she smiled tonight.

I closed the door gently behind me, then leaned my forehead against the cool wood.

"I'm losing her," I muttered under my breath.

And for the first time in a long time.

I felt genuinely afraid.