The dining room felt oppressively silent as I sat there, my fingers absently tracing the edge of my plate. The events of the past day replayed in my mind: the rogue attack, the miscarriage, and Cassian’s betrayal. My grip tightened on the fork in my hand, and before I realized it, I had knocked it to the ground.

I bent down to retrieve it, my hands trembling slightly. When I straightened, Cassian was already at the door, his tall frame outlined by the morning light streaming through the windows.

“There’s an issue with the northern border patrol,” he said curtly, his back still to me. “I’ll take you out next time.”

Without waiting for my reply, he left, closing the door behind him with a deliberate finality.

---

Half an hour later, I made my way to the administrative wing of the packhouse. Every step sent a dull ache through my leg, the stitches from the rogue attack pulling with each movement. My colleagues were already at their desks, their conversations cutting off the moment I entered the room.

I could feel their eyes on me as I walked past, sympathy and discomfort mingling in their expressions. Ignoring them, I took my seat and busied myself with work, pretending I didn’t notice the glances or the hushed whispers that followed me.

In the break room, as I refilled my water bottle, I overheard two wolves whispering near the coffee machine.

“Did you hear about Alpha Cassian and Beta Emira?” one of them murmured.

“Of course,” the other replied. “He’s always with her. Everyone’s noticed. Poor Luna Celia.”

My hand froze mid-pour. I clenched the water bottle tightly, willing myself to stay calm.

“It’s obvious he favors her,” the first wolf continued. “Just this morning, she tripped during training, and he personally carried her to the infirmary. Can you imagine?”

The bottle slipped from my hands, water spilling across the countertop and onto the floor. The room fell silent, the two wolves turning to stare at me with wide eyes.

I forced a tight smile and crouched down to clean the mess. Without a word, I threw the wet paper towels into the trash and walked out of the break room.

---

The hours dragged on as I buried myself in work, determined not to let my emotions show. By the time I looked up from my desk, the sky outside had darkened, and the rest of the staff had already left.

A faint scent reached me—pine and smoke. Before I could turn, I felt the weight of a jacket draped over my shoulders.

“Celia,” Cassian’s voice was low but sharp. “Why didn’t you respond to my messages?”

I frowned, unlocking my phone to check. A single message from him lit up the screen:

“What kind of herbal tea do you and the girls usually prefer?”

The question made my chest tighten. A memory surfaced, unbidden: years ago, I’d asked Cassian to bring me jasmine tea, a rare treat from the southern packs. He had scoffed, calling it a “pointless indulgence.”

But now he was asking about tea preferences—for Emira, no doubt.

“You always wanted things like this,” Cassian said, mistaking my silence for hesitation. “I thought you’d appreciate the effort.”

“It’s too late,” I replied, my voice flat. “If I drink tea now, I won’t sleep.”

He studied me for a moment, as if trying to gauge my mood, before saying, “I’ll be in the council chamber. Wait here, and we’ll leave together.”

He turned and walked away, leaving his phone on my desk. A few minutes later, the screen lit up with a message:

“Cassian, you’re spoiling me! You know I can’t resist chamomile. Are you trying to make me lazy? –Emira”

My stomach churned, but I said nothing.

By the time we returned to the packhouse, it was well past midnight. The air between us was heavy with unspoken words as I went straight to the bedroom. I opened the closet and began packing my personal belongings, my movements slow but deliberate.

The vanity that had once been covered with my favorite items now held only a few scattered trinkets. I picked up the last hairpin and placed it in my bag just as Cassian walked in, a towel slung over his shoulder.

His sharp gaze immediately landed on the bare vanity. “Celia,” he began, his tone clipped, “I’ll be attending the Alpha Summit next week. If there’s anything you want, let me know, and I’ll bring it back.”

“No need,” I replied without looking at him. “I don’t need anything.”

My calm response seemed to throw him off. He stared at me for a moment before tossing the towel onto the bed with a scoff.

“Is this about the tea?” he demanded. “Are you really sulking over something so trivial?”

“I’m not upset,” I said evenly, but before I could finish, he cut me off.

“You know I can’t stand unnecessary drama,” he snapped. “You’re acting ridiculous, Celia.”

He stormed out of the room, slamming the door to his study behind him.

---

In our seven years together, Cassian had given me the silent treatment more times than I could count. Each time, I had been the one to apologize, to bridge the gap he created.

But this time, I didn’t care.

Cassian stayed in the study all night. I never heard the door open, nor did he knock on mine. The next morning, I followed my usual routine, preparing breakfast for two as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the kitchen window.

I was just finishing my portion when Cassian emerged, his expression cold and irritated. Holding his phone in one hand, he barked, “Celia, take the day off. By evening, I want you to prepare an identical moonberry cake to the one Emira likes.”

I stared at him, my heart heavy but calm.

This man—my mate, my Alpha—was a stranger to me now.

And soon, I wouldn’t have to pretend otherwise.