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.