In a low, almost pleading tone, Lucian tried to justify himself. “Rowan, Ivy has been through so much raising a pup by herself. She doesn’t have anyone else in the pack to lean on. I’m just trying to help her out.”

His words cut deep, sharp and biting like claws on my skin. He always seemed to forget that I was alone in this pack too, reliant on him in the same way Ivy relied on him now.

“I get it,” I replied, keeping my voice steady. My calm exterior hid the storm swirling within me.

“Rowan, what does that even mean? Why are you speaking like that?” He was losing his grip, his voice escalating with anger.

“I said I get it,” I repeated, my calm voice turning steely, “Is that a problem?”

“Do you have to talk to me like this?” he snapped, irritation bleeding through his words.

“What do you want me to say?” I shot back, my frustration boiling over. The silence that followed was heavy, thick like fog in the forest. Finally, he muttered under his breath, “Fine, do whatever you want,” before abruptly hanging up.

Wasn’t it just typical? He used to call me clingy whenever I questioned why he was always with Ivy. And when I’d call to ask when he’d be home, I was the unreasonable one. Now, even my attempts to understand him turned me into the target of his ire.

I tossed my phone onto the counter with a weary sigh, pushing the encounter from my mind. There were more important things to focus on—like the pack documents sprawled across the table in front of me.

After my shift at the clinic ended, I took my time cleaning up, delaying my return to the den as long as possible. When I finally arrived home, Lucian was already gone, leaving only the lingering scent of him behind. I washed off the grime of the day and collapsed into bed, hoping sleep would offer some solace. Just as I started to drift into the realm of dreams, my phone buzzed incessantly, pulling me back to reality. It was Lucian.

“Rowan,” he gasped, his voice strained and filled with pain. “My stomach... it’s killing me.”

I mumbled a barely coherent response, but my exhaustion quickly overpowered my concern, pulling me back into a restless sleep. In the haze of dreams, I thought I heard him calling my name again, but it sounded far away, as if it were lost in the depths of a foggy forest. I pushed it aside, choosing the comfort of sleep over his distant pleas.

When I finally awoke to the creaking of the door, I found Lucian standing over me, pain etched into his features, his expression a mix of hurt and frustration.

“Rowan, why don’t you care anymore? You used to worry when I was in pain. You would make remedies and bring me potions,” he accused, disbelief ringing in his voice.

I remembered that version of myself clearly. There had been a time when Lucian had a similar stomachache, and I’d raced through pouring rain to deliver a special herbal remedy to him at the packhouse. I had shown up soaked and disheveled, only to be met with laughter from his packmates while Lucian stood by, unmoved and indifferent.

Afterward, he’d said to me, “Don’t come to the packhouse like that again, Rowan. It’s embarrassing.”

“Are you feeling any better now?” I asked, still half-asleep and rubbing my eyes. “We might be out of herbs, though. Maybe you should grab some from the healer’s hut.”

His jaw tightened, frustration flaring in his eyes. He grabbed my arm roughly, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “How long are you going to hold this grudge against Ivy, huh? I told you, there’s nothing between us!”

“Oh, is that right?” I replied, my calm demeanor in stark contrast to his rising anger.

With a frustrated snarl, Lucian stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. For the first time in what felt like ages, I savored the silence that followed.

---

As the quiet enveloped me, I reflected on the chaos that had become our lives. Lucian had always been the center of my universe, but now it felt like I was orbiting a distant star, struggling to stay grounded. I had given so much of myself to him, only to feel like a ghost in my own home.

I forced myself to focus on the pack documents again, trying to distract myself from the ache in my chest. The words blurred together as I read, each line reminding me of the responsibilities I had taken on, yet Lucian’s shadow loomed large over my thoughts.

He was supposed to be my partner, my mate, but instead, he felt more like a stranger who took me for granted. My heart tightened at the thought of all those moments I had spent trying to prove my worth to him—days and nights filled with worry and care that seemed to go unnoticed.

After what felt like hours, I put the documents aside, realizing I couldn’t force myself to engage with them any longer. My mind drifted back to earlier conversations, each one a reminder of the growing distance between us.

I recalled the first time I felt that distance—when he had started spending so much time with Ivy. I had tried to be supportive, to understand, but each hour he was away felt like a dagger to my heart. I had been nothing but patient, but patience was wearing thin.

Couldn’t he see how hard I was trying? I remembered the countless nights I lay awake, worrying about him, and how now it seemed like those concerns were unreciprocated.

Just as I began to spiral deeper into my thoughts, my phone buzzed again. It was Lucian once more. I hesitated, unsure if I was ready for another round of accusations.

“Rowan,” he said, his voice softer this time but still laced with pain, “I... I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier.”

I felt a mixture of relief and frustration. It was good that he was reaching out, but why did it always feel like we were running in circles?

“Lucian, I’m not angry,” I said, my tone steady but firm.

“I’m trying to figure this out, Rowan, tell me what’s wrong.” he replied, sounding genuinely conflicted.

I said nothing to him.

There was a long pause before he finally said, “Fine, I’ll leave you alone for now. Just... think about what I said. Please.”

As I hung up, I felt a mix of sadness and liberation wash over me.

Days blended into each other like the unending fog that wrapped our territory in a suffocating embrace. Lucian had been absent from our den for what felt like an eternity, and I didn’t bother to ask where he had gone.

On the third day, my phone buzzed to life with a message from him, casually informing me he was on a “mission for the pack” and sharing his location deep in the woods near the border.

[Stay safe,] I typed back, a dry laugh escaping my lips at the hollow sentiment.

Moments later, a notification lit up from the pack’s message board. Ivy had posted, [First break in forever. Never thought I’d miss honeyed berries. Someone insisted on picking them for me.]

Her post was accompanied by a photo showing Lucian’s hand, our binding ring still snugly in place on his finger. The location tagged in her post matched the one Lucian had sent me.

Suddenly, the ring on my own finger felt more like a shackle than a symbol of our bond, so I pulled it off and tossed it into a drawer, trying to silence the ache in my chest. Work became my escape, an ever-present refuge that kept me too busy to dwell on the gnawing emptiness left in Lucian’s absence. The question of when he would return faded into the background, buried beneath the weight of responsibilities.

Then, unexpectedly, he showed up one evening, leaning against his truck outside the clinic. His eyes held a hint of something—was it regret?

“Why are you here?” I asked, struggling to mask my surprise. The day had already drained me.

“Did you forget today is our mating ceremony anniversary?” he said, opening the passenger door for me as if it was a casual request.

“Oh,” I muttered, sliding into the seat, “sorry. I’ve been swamped. It slipped my mind.”

His frown deepened, disappointment flickering across his face as though my lack of enthusiasm had cut him. “Rowan, you used to care about these occasions. How could you forget?”

In the past, I had never let these days go unnoticed. Whether it was the anniversary of our bond or his birthday, I had orchestrated special celebrations—moonlit dinners, flowers adorning our den, and heartfelt gestures. Yet, each time, my efforts were brushed aside, dismissed as excessive or unimportant.

I recalled the time I arranged a surprise gathering in the heart of the forest, filled with laughter and joy. Lucian had turned to me, his expression flat, and said, “Rowan, you’re making a scene. It’s embarrassing in front of the pack.”

I had thought he’d appreciate the effort. Instead, he’d led me away, leaving me feeling like a fool, humiliated and unvalued. So now, I believed there was truly nothing left to celebrate.

“Let’s just have dinner,” he suggested, motioning for me to follow him toward a secluded cabin by the river that he’d reserved just for us.

The silence that enveloped us was oppressive, punctuated only by the soft murmur of the river flowing outside. I could feel his glances darting towards me, searching for any hint of the affection I used to offer so freely.

“Rowan, what’s wrong? Are you upset with me?” he finally blurted, his voice edged with concern.

“No,” I replied, shaking my head firmly.

“No?” he echoed, incredulity bleeding into frustration. “Then what’s with the coldness? I made an effort! I brought you to this beautiful place. Can’t you at least pretend to be happy?”

“I’m not angry, Lucian,” I insisted.

“Fine!” He let out a heavy sigh, pressing his palm to his forehead in frustration. “I swear, I won’t contact Ivy again. I’ll stop helping her, alright?”

I studied his face, looking for sincerity. Did he really believe that one empty promise could erase the months of hurt and deception?

“Are you satisfied now?” he pressed, his tone sharp, almost accusatory.

I remained silent, choosing instead to gaze out at the river, lost in thought. We drove to a nearby lodge he had arranged, complete with a small table set for two. He had even placed flowers on the table, as if hoping to rekindle a connection that had long since faded. But just as I was about to unwrap the small gift he had brought, his phone rang, cutting through the fragile atmosphere.

“Fever? Do you have any medicine on hand?” he asked urgently into the receiver. “I can’t take you to the healer’s hut tonight, I’m—what? That high? Alright, I’ll be right there.”

When he hung up, Lucian turned to me, guilt flickering in his eyes. “Rowan, it’s Ivy. Jesse’s running a high fever. I need to go—”

I swallowed my anger, forcing myself to keep my tone steady. “It’s fine,” I said, though each word felt like sandpaper against my throat. “Go ahead, Lucian. The pup needs you more than I do.”

He hesitated, as if waiting for me to change my mind, but I maintained my blank expression, watching him leave in a hurry, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alone in the lodge, I stared at the untouched meal laid out before me. Rain began to patter against the window, a muted echo of the tears I refused to shed. I sighed heavily, then quietly finished my meal before slipping out of the lodge.

I flagged down a truck to take me back to the pack’s territory. Without an umbrella, I braved the rain, each drop penetrating my clothes and chilling me to the bone.

Once I arrived home, I took a hot shower, hoping to wash away the remnants of the day’s disappointment. Afterward, I checked my messages and saw a new post from Ivy. She had shared a picture of Lucian holding Jesse, their cabin glowing with warmth around them.

I stared at the screen, my heart heavy with a mix of anger and sadness. The image felt like a dagger, twisting painfully within me. They looked so happy, so at ease, and I was left feeling like a ghost in my own life, haunting the corners of what used to be a shared existence.

Tears threatened to spill as I turned away from the screen, but I refused to let them fall. I had spent too long being second to Ivy, living in the shadows of Lucian’s choices.

Lucian didn’t return until dawn broke, the soft light creeping into the den as he stepped through the door. Without missing a beat, he launched into an explanation. “Jesse’s fever wouldn’t break all night, Rowan. I couldn’t just leave him there.”

Jesse. Ivy’s pup. That was a name I still struggled to hear without feeling a twinge of resentment.

“Is he alright now? Why didn’t you stay longer? It must be tough for Ivy to manage alone with a sick pup,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, but I could hear the bitterness just beneath the surface.

Lucian paused, peeling off his jacket, his expression morphing into one of annoyance. “Are you being sarcastic again?” he sighed heavily, weariness threading through his voice, a sound that grated on my already frayed nerves. “Look, I haven’t slept. I’m completely wiped out.”

“Then you should get some rest. I’ve got to head to the clinic,” I said, reaching for my satchel.

“Rowan...” He caught my arm, his grip surprisingly gentle this time, almost tentative.

“What is it?” I asked, turning to face him.

“We’ll reschedule our anniversary dinner, alright?” His tone was earnest, but the warmth in his words felt like a thin veneer.

A hollow smile tugged at my lips, lacking any real warmth. “I’m not upset.”

Lucian scrutinized my face for a moment, and then pulled me into an embrace that felt as cold as the rain outside. “There’s a pack gathering this weekend,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “Will you come with me?”

His family came from a long line of distinguished wolves deeply rooted in this territory, while I was just an outsider who had stayed after meeting him. I had always felt like a stranger among his packmates, never fully accepted.

I blinked, shaking off my thoughts before replying, “I might have to cover some shifts over the weekend.”

“Suit yourself.” His voice was tight, frustration threading through each word.

I watched as he turned away, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. I had never expected him to take Ivy’s place beside him at the gathering, but now it felt as though that was precisely what would happen.

Later that afternoon, I checked my phone and saw that I had been added to the pack's chat group for the gathering. A wave of dread washed over me as I opened the messages.

Photos flooded my screen, most of them featuring Ivy, her smile radiant as she mingled effortlessly among Lucian’s packmates. The contrast between her joy and my own misery was stark.

In one image, Lucian was carrying Ivy across a stream, her arms wrapped snugly around his neck. If she tilted her head just a fraction more, her lips would have brushed against his jaw, an intimacy that made my stomach churn.

The chat buzzed with comments, teasing them as if they were a new couple. They praised Ivy’s strength, lauding Lucian for his kindness, remarking on how well they seemed to fit together.

I knew remaining silent would only feel like an admission of defeat, so I typed two words, [Perfect pair.] I added a clapping emoji for effect, forcing myself to hit send despite the bitterness swirling inside me.

With a resigned sigh, I silenced my phone and turned my attention back to work, pouring myself into tasks that felt both endless and futile. As the hours slipped by, the night fell, wrapping the world in darkness.

When I finally dared to glance at my phone again, I found a flurry of missed calls from Lucian—dozens of them, each one a reminder of the connection that felt increasingly strained. My inbox overflowed with unread messages, each demanding a response I wasn’t sure I wanted to give.

Frustration simmered beneath the surface as I scrolled through his messages, reading each one. “Rowan, where are you?” “Call me back.” “I need to talk to you.” Each notification echoed the growing distance between us, a chasm that seemed insurmountable.

I set my phone down, trying to shake off the weight of his words. It was absurd how quickly things had spiraled, how I had gone from being a cherished mate to an afterthought. My chest tightened at the realization that while I was pouring my heart into my work, he was wrapping himself in Ivy’s warmth.

The clinic felt suffocating that night, the lights glaring down on me as I moved through the motions. I treated patients, administered remedies, and kept my mind busy, but each time I looked at the clock, I felt the ache of his absence more acutely.

When my shift finally ended, I gathered my things and stepped outside. The night air was crisp, but it did little to cool the turmoil inside me. I hesitated, debating whether to call him back, but I dismissed the thought. What would I say? How could I express the hurt without sounding petty or jealous?

I climbed into my truck, the engine humming to life as I drove through the familiar streets, each turn reminding me of moments we had shared. My heart twisted as I thought of the laughter that had once filled our home, now replaced with silence.

Once I reached the den, I sat in the driveway for a moment, staring at the front door. Part of me wanted to bolt inside, to hide away from the world, but another part of me craved the confrontation. I wanted to confront him about Ivy, to demand answers and clarity, yet I couldn’t bring myself to move.

Instead, I took a deep breath and finally reached for my phone. With trembling fingers, I opened the pack chat again, my heart racing as I saw new messages lighting up the screen.

“Alpha Lucien, where are you?” “Wow, Alpha and Miss Ivy look so good together” “What’s going on?”

It only stung more to realize that Lucian was at the center of their thoughts—while I felt more isolated than ever.

I set the phone back down, feeling the weight of his absence crash over me. No matter how many messages I received, it wouldn’t change the reality that our connection was fraying, slowly unraveling, and I was left holding onto threads that seemed to slip through my fingers no matter how tightly I grasped them.

[Rowan, answer your phone.]

[Rowan, let me explain! It’s not what you think!]

[Rowan, where are you? I’m coming to find you!]