There was silence on the other end of the line.

For several long seconds, all Adriana could hear was faint breathing.

When Nathanie finally spoke again, his voice carried an edge of discomfort. “Adriana… I’m sorry. Something urgent came up at the manor, so I left earlier. Stay where you are. I’ll come back and get you.”

As he spoke, she could hear movement in the background—plates clinking, chairs scraping lightly against the floor.

Then Olivia’s bright, lively voice drifted clearly through the stone.

“Nathanie! Dinner’s almost done. Where are you heading?”

Adriana closed her eyes briefly and pressed her fingers against her temple. A thin, bitter smile curved her lips.

“It’s fine,” she said evenly. “Don’t bother coming. I’ll handle it myself.”

This time, his pause lasted barely a heartbeat.

“…Alright,” he agreed. “Don’t rush. I made something special tonight. It’ll still be warm when you get back.”

The call ended.

Adriana remained standing in the dim corridor, the silence afterward heavier than the conversation itself. Her chest felt hollow, yet the ache inside only deepened.

Her fingers brushed against the folded transfer contract tucked safely inside her coat pocket.

How was she going to make him agree to her leaving the territory?

Leaning her shoulder against the stone wall for support, she forced herself forward. Each step sent a sharp pulse of pain through her ankle. By the time she reached the main road outside the infirmary grounds, sweat had dampened her clothes despite the cool evening air.

After what felt like forever, she managed to flag down a passing cab.

The moment she sank into the seat, she realized just how drained she was. Her hands were clammy, her skin pale.

The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Miss, you look unwell. Shouldn’t you call your boyfriend to pick you up?”

Adriana let her head rest against the window, exhaling softly. A faint, humorless laugh slipped out. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Just a fiancé.”

“Then call him,” the driver insisted gently. “You look like you might faint. No fiancé would want something happening to his mate.”

She gave a quiet scoff, eyes fixed on the passing lights outside. “That would be nice. Unfortunately, he’s occupied… with someone else.”

The driver frowned slightly before muttering, “That doesn’t sound very dependable.”

She let out a soft chuckle.

“Dependable?” she repeated. “I’d call it indifference.”

Every detail of their upcoming mating ceremony—the invitations sent to allied packs, the arrangement of their shared quarters, the decorations for the hall—had been handled by her alone.

When she once asked Nathanie for his thoughts, he had replied flatly, “You’re better at these things. Why ask me about every small decision? Handle it.”

Yet when everything was arranged, he had found fault in nearly all of it.

In the end, it was Olivia who adjusted the décor until he finally approved.

Thinking about it now left Adriana feeling tired beyond measure.

The cab pulled to a stop outside the Alpha manor.

The distance from the gates to the main entrance was short—no more than a few hundred meters—but it took her nearly half an hour to cross it. Every step felt like walking through fire.

When she finally reached the door, she reached instinctively for her keys.

Her hand came up empty.

She froze.

Then she knocked.

It took a while before the door opened.

Nathanie stood there, his expression already edged with irritation.

“Where are your keys?” he asked sharply. “Why do you keep knocking instead of letting yourself in?”

Adriana didn’t answer immediately. She stepped inside slowly, the pain in her ankle forcing her to move with care.

Only when she reached the living room did she set down her bag and retrieve her keyring.

“My spare key?” she said calmly. “You removed it last week to give to Olivia. Don’t you remember?”

His brows knit together as the memory surfaced. The annoyance faded slightly, replaced by a trace of awkwardness.

“I’ve been overwhelmed lately,” he replied. “You could’ve just made another copy. You have time for that sort of thing.”

Adriana offered a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

She had long ago stopped expecting fairness.

To Nathanie, anything concerning Olivia required immediate attention.

Her needs could always wait.

She moved toward the dining room, steadying herself against the wall.

Olivia was already seated at the table.

The moment she saw Adriana, she jumped up with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“Adriana, you’re finally home!” Olivia chirped brightly, hurrying over and looping her arm through Adriana’s as if they were the closest of friends. She even stuck out her tongue playfully, her smile wide and innocent.

“I’m sorry, Adriana,” Olivia said brightly, though her tone carried only the faintest trace of guilt. “I was starving and couldn’t wait any longer.” She slipped her arm through Adriana’s and guided her toward the dining table as if everything were perfectly normal.

Adriana’s steps were slow, her ankle throbbing with every shift of weight.

When she reached the table, she stopped.

The dishes were nearly empty—just scattered scraps and cooling plates left behind. Whatever had been “cooked specially” was long gone.

She stared at the remains in silence.

A dull ache spread through her chest, heavier than the pain in her ankle. Disappointment. Hurt. Something quieter and more humiliating beneath it.

“It’s fine,” she said softly after a moment. “I’m not feeling great tonight. I’ll skip dinner. You two go ahead.”

She turned before either of them could see her expression and began making her way toward the staircase, gripping the railing for balance.

Behind her, Olivia’s voice rose in exaggerated concern. “Adriana? Are you upset because I didn’t wait for you?”

Nathanie’s low chuckle followed.

“You think too much,” he said, reaching out to pat Olivia’s head in an almost indulgent gesture. “She twisted her ankle earlier. She’s just uncomfortable.”

The easy familiarity of it—the way his hand lingered in Olivia’s hair—made Adriana pause for a split second.

She glanced back without meaning to.

Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something.

In the end, she said nothing.

Only a quiet exhale left her as she continued upstairs and shut herself inside the master bedroom.

The silence there felt thicker.

Her mind replayed the day against her will. Olivia’s single call had been enough for Nathanie to drop everything and rush home. Meanwhile, she had limped through the hospital alone, waited alone, returned alone.

The comparison cut deep.

She shook the thought away and focused on the practical problem—her ankle.

Opening drawers and cabinets, she searched for the first-aid supplies. Minutes passed. Nothing.

Eventually, she remembered the spare medical kit that had once been placed in the guest room.

She made her way there slowly and crouched with difficulty to peer under the closet.

There it was.

Dusty. Forgotten.

Inside, she found only a small bottle of iodine—expired.

She hesitated, then took it anyway.

As she carried it back to the master bedroom, she noticed the guest room looked recently cleaned. The bed neatly made. Fresh sheets.

She didn’t let herself linger on that detail.

Back in the bedroom, she sat carefully on the edge of the bed and rolled up her pant leg.

The swelling had worsened. The skin stretched tight and angry.

She dabbed the cotton with iodine and pressed it gently to her ankle.

Pain exploded up her leg.

A sharp gasp escaped her before she could stop it.

“You shouldn’t be using that.”

The sudden voice made her freeze.

She looked up.

Nathanie stood at the doorway, a fresh bottle of herbal liniment in his hand.

“That iodine expired months ago,” he said, stepping inside. “Didn’t you check? You’re still so careless.”

There was no real harshness in his tone—just quiet reproach.

He crouched in front of her and reached toward her ankle.

Instinctively, she pulled her foot back.

His hand stilled.

“Do you not want me touching you?” he asked evenly.

In the dim lamplight, his expression was difficult to read.

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear to avoid his gaze.

“It’s not that,” she replied quietly. “Olivia’s downstairs. You should go keep her company. Just leave the liniment here. I can take care of it.”

He watched her for a moment longer.

Then, without warning, he caught her ankle and drew it firmly into his lap.

The sudden movement made her wince.

“Nathanie—” she protested, but the pain forced the rest of her words into a soft cry.

He paused when he saw the full extent of the swelling.

The faint irritation that had lingered on his face disappeared, replaced by something rarer.

Regret.

“…Sorry,” he said under his breath.

The word stunned her.

In three years, she could not remember hearing him apologize like that.

Not when he had once left her doubled over in pain with a ruptured appendix because he had to attend a medical summit.

Not when she later learned Olivia had been there that same day, introduced publicly as his protégée.

But now—over a sprained ankle—he apologized.

She almost laughed at the irony.

“Since when do you say sorry?” she asked lightly, trying to keep her voice steady.

He avoided her eyes, focusing instead on spreading the liniment carefully over her swollen skin.

“I should’ve checked it earlier,” he admitted. “It’s worse than I thought.”

The sincerity in his tone tugged at something fragile inside her.

For a fleeting second, she felt the warmth she had once clung to.

But it faded just as quickly.

“It’s only a sprain,” she said with a faint smile. “It’s not worth an apology.”

Yet as she spoke, she knew the apology wasn’t really about her ankle.

And that was what hurt most.

Adriana knew how dangerous tenderness could be.

If she allowed herself to soften now—if she clung to this small flicker of warmth—her resolve to leave the territory might crumble.

She inhaled slowly, steadying herself.

“Well,” she said lightly, forcing a teasing tone, “you’re the Alpha everyone has to schedule weeks in advance just to consult. Now you’re personally tending to me for free. I should feel honored. Most wolves can’t even get a proper appointment with you.”

Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Nathanie’s hands paused for the briefest moment. His brows drew together faintly, as if he sensed something beneath her words.

Was she mocking him?

The thought irritated him more than he expected.

He suppressed the feeling and resumed applying the liniment, his fingers firm but controlled as he worked around the swelling.

Only after he finished rubbing the first layer into her skin did he finally speak.

“Olivia’s place was broken into last night,” he said, voice calm. “I’ve arranged for her to stay here for a while. Just until things settle.”

Adriana’s body went still.

So that was it.

The unusual patience earlier. The missing key. The guest room that had been freshly cleaned.

None of it had been spontaneous.

He had already planned everything.

And only now was he informing her.

A quiet understanding settled over her chest like frost.

She considered objecting. For a split second, she imagined asking why he hadn’t discussed it with her first.

But what would that change?

“It’s your territory,” she replied after a moment, her tone even. “Handle it however you see fit.”

Her compliance seemed to dissolve whatever explanation he had prepared. The tension in his shoulders eased.

“You’re not bothered?” he asked, almost cautiously.

She met his gaze.

“No.”

The answer came easily.

Relief flickered across his face. He rose to his feet and placed the bottle of liniment beside her.

“Reapply it gently in about half an hour,” he instructed. “I’ll go sit with Olivia. She’s downstairs alone.”

Of course she was.

“I’ll come back later,” he added.

Adriana nodded faintly.

Inside, she marked another tally.

He had received reassurance. That was enough. He could leave without guilt.

He reached the door and grasped the handle.

Then he paused and glanced back.

“Adriana,” he said, his tone shifting slightly, “Olivia is sensitive. Try not to behave so coldly around her next time. She might misunderstand.”

She blinked.

So that was it.

Her quiet retreat upstairs had been impolite.

Should she have stayed and shared their leftovers instead?

Her fingers tightened around the liniment bottle until her knuckles paled.

Still, she forced her lips into a polite curve.

“I understand,” she replied softly. “Please apologize to her for me.”

That seemed to satisfy him.

He gave a small nod and left.

The door closed with a soft click.

The moment the sound echoed through the room, her composure shattered.

Tears spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them.

This was the wolf she had loved for three years.

Her chosen mate.

And yet, not once had she truly occupied the center of his heart.

The throbbing in her ankle was nothing compared to the ache spreading through her chest. It felt as if her ribs were caving inward, crushing something fragile beneath them.

When the time came to apply the liniment again, she did it herself.

She didn’t expect him to return.

Downstairs, faint laughter drifted up the staircase—light, easy, intimate.

She lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling in the dim room, feeling colder than the night air outside.

Eventually, thirst forced her to move.

She pushed herself upright and made her way downstairs, gripping the railing as she descended.

Each step sent a dull wave of pain up her leg.

When she reached the kitchen and approached the water dispenser, she automatically reached for her usual cup.

It wasn’t there.

In its place sat a new porcelain mug—delicate, unfamiliar.

She didn’t need to ask whose it was.