I set the platter of honey-glazed ribs on the table, the low murmurs I'd overheard from the kitchen ceasing like a pack silenced by an Alpha's glare.

Alpha Bran's golden eyes flicked to the ribs, and his jaw tightened when he noticed my gaze lingering on the half-empty plate.

"We couldn't wait," he muttered.

"Elena's flight was delayed for hours, and she was starving."

Then I saw it-Bran's hands, strong and steady, working at a rib.

He tore into the thick, sinewy meat with ease, his claws just barely visible beneath the curve of his fingers, slick with sauce as he stripped the rib clean.

I froze.

Bran never ate ribs.

The mess, the effort-it wasn't his style.

"You're eating ribs now?" I asked.

He didn't stop. "Yeah. Why?"

"You used to hate them," I said, quieter now.

"People change," his gaze finally lifting-past me, not to me.

Without a second glance, he tossed the rib onto Elena's plate.

"Eat something," he said curtly.

"Unless you want to pass out halfway through another glass."

Elena stared at the plate, her fingers trembling slightly as she clutched her wineglass.

I set my fork down with a soft clink, pushing back my chair. "I. I had some ribs while cooking. I'm full," I murmured, forcing a small smile. "You all enjoy."

I looked at Bran.

He didn't say a word, just picked up his glass and took a long sip of wine.

One of his friends, sensing the awkwardness, tried to mediate.

"Elena, it's in the past. Let it go. Everyone's here to enjoy themselves, not to-"

Elena cut him off, hastily wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She raised her glass, her voice trembling but defiant.

"You're right. Let's not dwell. To you," she said, looking directly at me, her tone sharp. "Thank you for taking care of Bran all these years. I'll drink to that."

Before I could react, Bran slammed his glass onto the table, his voice sharp as a blade.

"Enough, Elena."

Her hand jerked, spilling wine across my face.

The sting of the cold liquid didn't bother me as much as the silence that followed. I reached for a napkin, slowly wiping my face as Elena gasped.

"I-I didn't mean to." she stammered, then suddenly slapped herself hard across the cheek.

"I'm sorry!"

But she wasn't looking at me. Her gaze locked onto Bran, wild and desperate.

"Say it, Bran. Say you hate me. Say you'll never forgive me, so I can finally let go. Do you want me to die? Is that it?"

Bran's jaw clenched.

"Elena, stop it," he growled.

Without warning, she turned and bolted toward the balcony.

"Fine! I'll end it now!"

"Elena!" Bran was on his feet in an instant, catching her before she could throw herself over the edge. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.

"Have you lost your mind? Enough of this!"

She writhed in his grasp, her voice cracking with sobs.

"Let me go! You don't forgive me! I'm already dead inside!"

Bran's voice dropped. "I forgive you. Is that what you want to hear? I forgive you."

Elena froze, her sobs quieting as she searched his face.

"Do you mean it?"

His hold loosened, and he let out a tired sigh. "Yes."

For a moment, the room was still.

Then, I stood, tossing the soaked napkin onto the table. Bran's head snapped toward me, his body stiff.

"You're leaving?"

I met his gaze briefly, cold and detached.

"Enjoy your forgiveness," I said, walking past them without another word.

Under the hot water of the shower, I finally tasted the salt on my lips.

Bran's head snapped toward me. "Wait-"

Before he could finish, Elena spoke.

"Bran." She paused. "Four years ago. I didn't have a choice."

I froze mid-step.

"My mom-" Her voice broke.

"After your family lost everything, my mom threatened to kill herself if I didn't leave you. She forced me to break it off. "

"Elena-" Bran started, but she held up a hand, her tears spilling freely now.

"I didn't want to go!" Her voice cracked.

"Do you know what it's like to think about someone every day and not be able to reach out? To want to know if they're okay, but be too scared they'll hate you?"

"Elena, stop-"

"No!" She stood suddenly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"When I saw you at the airport, I thought it was a dream. But then you brought me here, and now I don't know."

Her voice dropped, trembling. "Bran, tell me the truth. Did you bring me here because you still care? Or is this your way of showing me that I'm nothing to you?"

Bran and Elena were childhood sweethearts, inseparable until university.

They loved deeply, and Bran once confessed he'd marry her the moment they graduated.

But fate intervened.

The year Bran's pack, Silvermoon, faced ruin, Elena was away studying in another pack. When she heard, she ended things over a phone call-cold and final.

Bran spiraled into despair.

Everyone knew I was chasing him, ignoring the warnings.

"Aren't you scared? Bran loved Elena with his whole soul," his friends teased.

I was naïve, believing I could be his salvation.

When a border tumult hit Silvermoon, everyone fled, but I dragged two suitcases of food through the chaos to Bran's doorstep. I earned his house code that day, but not his heart.

For three years, I waited.

Until one night, tears streaming, I asked, "Do you even like me?"

He pulled me into his arms.

"Let's try," he whispered.

Three months later, Elena returned.

Tonight was the final blow.

In the shower, I scrubbed off the humiliation. Dressed, hair dried, I stepped out of the room to overhear him.

"Elena's had a lot to drink. Aunt Sasra, make her some soup when she gets home. Keep an eye on her tonight, okay?"

My breath caught. A breakup years ago, yet he still had her family servant's number, still worried over her like she was his mate.

I recalled how he treated me drunk-

"Get off me. You stink of alcohol. Disgusting."

I'd once thought it was tough love. It wasn't.

"Bran," his friend asked casually, "are you getting back with Elena? Laura looked upset."

He scoffed. "Upset? So what? She won't leave me."

I closed the door and sat in silence.

Later, Bran staggered into the room, collapsing onto the bed. "Everyone's gone. Go clean up and turn off the lights."

I didn't move.

"Bran," I said.

"What?"

"We're done. Let's not see each other again."

The room went quiet.

For a moment, I thought he'd fallen asleep. Then-

"Do whatever you want."

Just indifference, like discussing the weather.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

I packed silently.

Bran sat up suddenly, his eyes flashing with irritation. "You're noisy as hell."

When Bran left, I ordered emergency crates online. At dawn, I entered his study, taking the last thing I bought for him-a wolf-patterned blanket.

The moving crew arrived quickly, only to be blocked by Elena at the door.

"Leaving already? That's it?" she sneered.

I shot her a glare, telling her to move. She stepped inside, surveying the place like a queen.

"You're not planning to empty Bran's house, are you? Anything that's not yours, leave it."

She ripped open the crate, dumping its contents onto the floor-an old compass, a cracked watch, and scattered sketches of hunting maps.

"These are mine. Stay out of it." I shoved her aside and bent to gather them, only for her to kick them further away.

"Yours?" She smirked.

"Women like you never leave empty-handed after splitting with someone wealthy. You paid for these? As if."

She'd forgotten she was the one who fled when Bran's pack hit rock bottom. Now, with Silvermoon thriving, all she saw was his glory, forgetting who stood by him in the ashes.

Anger surged. I shoved her against the wall.

Heavy footsteps approached, and a strong grip wrenched my arm.

Elena teared up instantly, her voice trembling.

"Bran, don't blame her. I was just worried she might take your things and asked too many questions."

Bran sighed.

"Laura, what are you doing this early? Can't you let me have some peace?"

I didn't want to care anymore, but his scolding still stung like a claw to my chest.

Keeping my tone steady, I replied, "I'm leaving and taking what's mine. Is that a problem?"

Bran hesitated.

Then, like a storm cloud about to break, he growled, "Stop playing games. Don't joke about breaking up."

Elena, clutching her head dramatically, whimpered.

"Bran, I'm feeling dizzy. Could you take me to the hospital?"

Without hesitation, he swept her into his arms and left.

The house fell silent.

Back at my small, rented apartment, I discarded everything unnecessary, paying extra for the movers to dispose of the rest.

Before they left, one of the workers hesitated at the door.

"Miss, be careful who you trust next time."

Even an outsider could see Bran wasn't worth it.

Yet I'd wasted the best years of my life on him.

Half a month later, my phone rang. It was a friend.

"Hey, I heard you and Bran broke up?"

I nodded.

"You chased him for so long. Just like that, you're done?" she teased.

I chuckled.

"I once left him a perfectly roasted deer flank. He gave it all to Elena. What else was I supposed to do-eat the scraps?"

Her laughter was cut short by a low, familiar growl.

"You told me you weren't hungry." Bran's voice snapped through the line.

My heart clenched, but I masked it with indifference.

"What do you want, Bran?"

A pause. Then, softer:

"I just wanted to ask. Where did you put my old talisman? My head's killing me."

Bran's headaches were a lingering curse, a pain like claws raking through his skull.

I told him it was on the fireplace mantel.

He grumbled.

"Next time, don't move it. It's important. You should've thought of that."

This wasn't the first time.

He'd scolded me before for shifting it, saying it should always be in its rightful place.

I hung up mid-sentence, severing the connection.

Then I quietly removed that "NAME" from my life, too.