I slipped quietly from the bed before dawn fully settled over the pack grounds, careful not to wake Theron sleeping beside me. Pale moonlight filtered through the tall windows of the Alpha chambers, silver stretching across stone walls and thick furs. For a moment, I stood there remembering when waking beside my mate used to make me feel loved instead of painfully alone.

Then I crossed the room toward the wooden cabinet tucked into the corner.

That cabinet was the only thing in the packhouse that truly felt mine. Not the kitchens I spent decades tending. Not the endless duties expected of a Luna. Not the grand halls everyone praised me for maintaining. Those belonged to the pack, to Theron, to the family I had spent twenty-five years serving without complaint.

But inside that cabinet were the few things I had bought for myself.

The moment I opened it, my breath caught.

The carved wooden box on the second shelf sat empty.

I froze before frantically opening drawers with shaking hands. The moonflower powder I bought from southern traders was gone. The berry lip pigments wrapped carefully in silk cloth had disappeared too, along with the crystal perfume vial I had admired for nearly a year before finally buying it.

Gone.

Panic rose sharply in my chest as I searched the shelves again and again, though deep down I already knew the truth.

Without thinking, I hurried downstairs.

Theron sat near the hearth in the main hall, trade scrolls spread across the low table before him. Cedarwood smoke filled the air, but it did nothing to ease the ache growing inside me.

“Theron,” I asked carefully, “have you seen the cosmetics I kept upstairs?”

He barely looked up.

“Oh, those?” he replied casually. “I gave them to Marisella.”

The words struck so hard I forgot how to breathe.

“You gave them to her?” My voice cracked. “Theron, those were mine. I only bought them last week.”

That finally made him glance at me, amusement flickering across his face.

“Elyria,” he said with a short laugh, “what exactly do you need cosmetics for?”

I stared at him silently.

“It is not like you attend gatherings anymore,” he continued. “And honestly, you are too old to concern yourself with things like that now.”

My chest tightened painfully.

“No, truly.” He leaned back in his chair, almost entertained by my expression. “Have you looked at yourself lately? Those things no longer suit you.” Then he smiled faintly. “Marisella, on the other hand, carries herself beautifully. She works hard for this pack. She deserves nice things.”

Something inside me cracked.

“It was mine,” I said louder, my hands trembling violently. “I bought those with my own money.”

Theron rolled his eyes immediately.

“Your own money?” he repeated flatly. “Elyria, everything you own comes from me.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the truth burned too deeply.

Those things had not come from him.

For five years, I had cared for the moonblossoms and silver roses behind the packhouse myself. I watered them before sunrise and tended them long after everyone slept. During seasonal gatherings, I quietly sold flower bundles to merchants and visiting wolves, saving every moonstone coin little by little until I could finally buy something for myself.

Not once had I asked Theron for money that was not meant for the household.

I already knew how he would react.

Like I was selfish.

Like I was a burden.

So years ago, I stopped asking altogether.

And now the one thing I bought with pride after years of effort had been handed to another woman without hesitation.

Theron sighed heavily, as though I were the difficult one.

“Stop making such a fuss over something trivial,” he muttered. “I will replace them eventually.”

Eventually.

The word felt hollow, dismissive. Like he was calming a servant instead of speaking to his mate.

“You really do not care about me anymore,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

His expression hardened instantly.

“You are being dramatic again,” he snapped. “For once, think beyond your own feelings. Marisella practically saved this pack after securing those trade alliances. She deserves appreciation.” His voice turned colder. “You would not understand matters like this anyway. You know nothing about leadership or negotiations.”

Then he waved dismissively toward the kitchens.

“Now stop overreacting and prepare breakfast. I am starving.”

His words hurt more than a slap ever could.

I turned away before he saw the tears gathering in my eyes, but just as I reached the doorway, his lazy voice stopped me again.

“Oh, and I will be leaving tomorrow for a week,” he said casually. “There is a diplomatic journey to the southern territories. At least you will finally get a break from taking care of me.”

I said nothing.

What was left to say?

So I cooked.

Again.

Just as I always did.

Later that afternoon, our son arrived with his mate. The moment they entered the great hall, I smiled automatically, though it felt strange on my face now, like an expression I no longer recognized.

During dinner, they spoke excitedly about the upcoming trip south.

“I heard the Moon Tide Voyage is beautiful this season,” my daughter-in-law said brightly while servants refilled goblets around the table. “The ocean reflects the moonlight so clearly at night that the water looks silver.”

“There are hot springs too,” my son added with a grin. “And feasts every evening.”

I paused while pouring stew into their bowls.

“I thought this was supposed to be a diplomatic journey,” I murmured quietly.

My son laughed awkwardly.

“Well... partly official, partly recreational,” he explained quickly. “The allied Alphas are combining negotiations with festivities this year.”

Then he smiled at me almost guiltily.

“Do not worry, Mother. We will bring you something back from the southern markets.”

“A carved moonstone ornament would look lovely in your room,” his mate added warmly.

I forced a soft laugh.

“A simple keepsake would already be enough.”

Beside me, Father shook his head.

“If only you had taken interest in pack affairs years ago, perhaps you could have attended events like this too.”

I nodded quietly and smiled again because pretending no longer even hurt. Somewhere along the years, pain had settled into something dull and permanent, like an old wound that never healed properly.

That night, after everyone retired, I sat alone packing Theron’s clothes into the traveling trunk prepared for his journey. Thick fur-lined cloaks. Formal tunics embroidered with the Darkmoor crest. Ceremonial garments meant for gatherings beneath the full moon.

As I reached for another folded shirt, a soft glow flickered across the moonstone communication mirror resting on the desk nearby.

I frowned slightly.

Theron rarely allowed anyone near his correspondence mirror.

The enchanted stone pulsed again, lighting the dark room with pale silver. Without thinking, I glanced toward it.

Then froze.

A message shimmered across the mirror’s surface.

Moon Tide Voyage Reservation Confirmed.

My heartbeat stumbled painfully.

Slowly, I stepped closer.

The glowing text shifted, revealing more details.

Private ocean suite.

Sacred hot spring access.

Bonded couples’ retreat package.

Moonlit ceremonial dinners.

My fingers trembled violently.

Then I noticed another document attached beneath the reservation.

An invitation.

I stared blankly as enchanted ink revealed the names written across the page.

Alpha Theron Darkmoor

and

Lady Marisella Darkveil

request the honor of your presence

as we celebrate our sacred union beneath the blessing of the Moon Goddess aboard the Moon Tide Voyage.

The world tilted around me.

My knees gave out so suddenly that I collapsed into the chair behind me, one trembling hand covering my mouth as I stared at the glowing words over and over again.

No.

This was not simply a diplomatic journey.

It was not merely an affair hidden behind excuses and late-night meetings anymore.

It was a celebration.

A sacred union.

A public mating ceremony blessed before the Moon Goddess herself.

And everyone already knew.

My son knew.

My father knew.

The family I had spent twenty-five years loving and serving had known all along that Theron intended to replace me with Marisella.

Yet every day, they still sat at my table and allowed me to cook for them, clean for them, smile for them, while they quietly prepared another woman to stand beside my mate.

A broken sound escaped my throat as tears finally spilled freely down my face.

Not because of the cosmetics.

Not because of the journey.

But because I had given these people everything I was.

My youth.

My loyalty.

My love.

My entire life.

And in the end, it had meant absolutely nothing.

I covered my mouth to silence the sobs threatening to escape while laughter echoed faintly through the packhouse halls outside, the people I loved already planning their future together—

A future that no longer had any place for me.

“Elyria,” Theron had whispered to me once beneath the glow of the full moon, his voice warm and intimate as he pulled me against his side near the packhouse balcony, “you would take care of me better than anyone else ever could. Even better than Marisella.”

At the time, his words had wrapped around my heart like a blessing.

“I love her,” he admitted back then with a careless honesty that should have warned me. “The Moon Goddess knows I do. I want her. But Marisella would always choose ambition over me if it came down to it.” Then his fingers brushed lazily against my shoulder as he smiled down at me. “You’re different, Elyria. You’re loyal. You’re the kind of woman who stays. The kind who serves her mate without question. And for that, I’ll give you the best life you could ever dream of.”

I had believed him completely.

Like a fool, I believed every single word.

I let him bind our names together before the pack elders without complaint. There had been no grand mating ceremony beneath the sacred moon altar, no feast filled with music and dancing, no flowers woven into my hair by laughing friends. The official union had been quiet and simple, witnessed only by a few elders and sealed through blood, moonstone vows, and signatures pressed onto ancient pack records.

At the time, none of that mattered to me because I loved him so deeply that I mistook scraps for devotion.

Now, looking back, I finally understood the truth I had refused to see for twenty-five years.

Theron never truly chose me.

Not first.

Not completely.

I had simply been the safe choice waiting behind him while Marisella chased the future she wanted.

And when she finally returned willing to stand beside him, I became unnecessary.

No.

Worse than unnecessary.

I became convenient.

The woman who cooked his meals, prepared his clothes, and warmed his bed while another woman occupied his heart.

The next morning, not a single person in the packhouse asked whether I had slept well. No one noticed the swelling around my eyes from crying through the night or the trembling in my hands as I poured morning tea into polished silver cups.

The great hall buzzed with excitement instead.

Servants moved in and out carrying traveling trunks while laughter echoed near the hearth. Rich fabrics and expensive cloaks were spread across the couches, their scents filling the air with lavender oils, fresh leather, and imported perfumes from the southern territories.

I stood quietly near the edge of the room with my hands clasped together, watching everyone admire garments and jewelry as though this were the happiest occasion in the world.

My son turned toward me with a grin that reminded me painfully of the little boy I used to rock to sleep during thunderstorms.

“Mother,” he said excitedly, “aside from the alliance meetings, we’ll also be attending a sacred union ceremony during the voyage. Can you believe it? The entire event is supposed to be magnificent.”

For one terrible moment, my heart stopped.

I forced myself to blink normally.

“A union ceremony?” I repeated softly.

Marisella stood several feet away near the hallway mirror, holding a flowing white gown against herself while one of the servants adjusted the fabric around her shoulders.

The sight alone made my stomach twist painfully.

Still, I managed to ask, “Whose ceremony is it?”

Father scoffed immediately as though I had asked something foolish.

“What interest would you possibly have in that?” he muttered. “You are remaining here to oversee the packhouse while everyone else is away.”

Then his gaze sharpened slightly.

“And since when do you care about gatherings like these? It is someone from Theron’s alliance circle. Matters beyond your concern.”

I smiled.

At least, I think I did.

The expression felt weak and unnatural on my face now.

“Of course,” I murmured quietly.

“Do not worry, Mother,” my son added with a laugh, entirely unaware that every word felt like another knife twisting deeper into my chest. “We will bring you gifts from the southern markets. I know how much you enjoy those herbal oils and moonstone perfumes.”

Marisella giggled softly behind him before adding sweetly, “And we will send enchanted mirror images during the voyage so you can stay updated on everything.”

My chest tightened so painfully that breathing became difficult.

Before I could answer, footsteps echoed from the upper hallway.

Theron descended the staircase wearing a dark formal tunic embroidered with the Darkmoor Alpha crest, looking far more alive than he ever had inside this house with me.

Without even greeting me properly, he tossed a pile of clothing directly into my arms.

“I need these pressed before sunset,” he said flatly. “And be careful with them. The fabric came from the southern packs and costs more moonstones than you could imagine.”

I lowered my eyes immediately.

“Yes, Theron.”

The morning of their departure arrived far too quickly.

The packhouse was filled with noise from sunrise onward. Servants hurried through the halls carrying trunks while voices overlapped constantly with instructions, laughter, and excitement. The scent of perfume oils and fresh parchment filled the air as final preparations continued around me.

And through it all, I remained exactly where I always was.

In the background.

Quietly fixing collars.

Folding scarves.

Brushing lint from cloaks.

Adjusting buttons with careful fingers no one ever noticed unless something went wrong.

Then suddenly, a sharp cry shattered the busy atmosphere.

“My dress!”

Marisella’s voice echoed through the upper hallway in panic.

Everyone rushed toward the sound instantly, including Theron.

I followed behind more slowly, only to find Marisella standing near the guest chambers holding the white ceremonial gown in trembling hands.

A tiny tear had formed near the lower hem.

It was barely noticeable.

But judging by the horrified expressions around the room, one would think the entire dress had been destroyed.

Theron’s eyes immediately landed on me.

Rage flared across his face without hesitation.

“Elyria,” he snarled, “what did you do?”

My breath caught.

“I-I did not touch it,” I said quickly. “I only sent it to the seamstress yesterday along with the other garments. Perhaps they accidentally—”

“I specifically told you to oversee everything personally,” he snapped furiously. “Why would you allow strangers to handle Marisella’s ceremonial gown?”

“I was careful,” I whispered weakly. “I did not mean for this to happen.”

“Do you have any idea how valuable this dress is?” Theron barked. “Can you repay it if something worse had happened?”

The entire room fell silent.

I could feel every pair of eyes on me.

Humiliation crawled across my skin like fire.

“It is alright,” Marisella said softly then, stepping forward with that same gentle expression she always used whenever she wanted to appear kind. “Please do not be angry with her.” Her eyes flickered toward me briefly before returning to Theron. “She is still your mate.”

Theron let out a cold scoff.

“Unfortunately,” he muttered.

Then, without even glancing at me again, he wrapped one arm around Marisella’s shoulders protectively.

“Come,” he said gently to her, his voice immediately softer than it had been with me. “We will purchase another gown before boarding the voyage ship.”

Then he threw the damaged dress directly into my arms.

The silk pooled heavily against my chest as I stood frozen in place.

Around me, everyone resumed moving again as though nothing had happened. Servants carried trunks downstairs while my son laughed about missing the tide schedule, and Father complained about how long the preparations were taking.

No one looked at me.

No one asked if I was alright.

And when they finally left the packhouse together, laughing and discussing the celebrations awaiting them aboard the Moon Tide Voyage, not a single person turned back before stepping through the doors.

Not even once.

By the time the packhouse finally fell silent, I felt as though all the warmth had been drained from its walls along with them. The halls that had once echoed with voices and footsteps now seemed painfully empty, yet the silence brought me no peace. Everywhere I looked, I still saw traces of them—Theron’s abandoned goblet resting near the hearth, Marisella’s forgotten silk gloves draped over the arm of the couch, the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air like a cruel reminder that she had already begun taking my place long before I realized it.

I was gathering the torn white gown from where I had left it on the table when the moonstone communication mirror resting near the staircase flickered softly.

A message.

For a moment, I simply stared at the glowing stone without moving. Then, slowly, I walked toward it and brushed my fingers across the surface.

Marisella’s voice filled the room first, soft and gentle in the way everyone always admired.

“Elyria, I’m sorry. The seamstress already admitted the mistake with the dress. You should not have been blamed for it. Please do not dwell on what happened too much.”

I listened to the message once.

Then again.

And somehow, the second time hurt even more than the first.

Did she truly mean it? Or was this merely another attempt to soothe her own conscience? A soft apology meant to erase the memory of Theron humiliating me in front of everyone while she stood there looking kind and understanding. Even now, she still appeared graceful. Merciful. The reasonable woman stepping in to calm the cruel Alpha and comfort the pathetic wife he no longer wanted.

Before I could decide what to feel, the moonstone glowed again.

Theron’s voice replaced hers.

“I left the obsidian credit seal on the kitchen counter,” he said casually. “Buy yourself something while we’re gone. You will have the packhouse to yourself for the next week anyway.”

A hollow laugh nearly escaped me.

Of course.

This was always how Theron operated.

First came the anger.

Then the humiliation.

Then, once his temper cooled, he tossed gifts at me as though material things could erase the damage left behind.

A jeweled necklace after harsh words.

Fine fabrics after nights he ignored me.

Perfumes after betrayal.

As if allowing me to spend his money somehow balanced the cruelty of everything else.

I could practically hear his voice inside my head already.

Here. Buy yourself something nice. Stop sulking now and smile for me like a good Luna should.

My fingers tightened around the edge of the mirror.

Without another thought, I erased both messages from the stone completely before severing the mindlink access tied to their communication signatures.

The silence afterward felt strangely satisfying.

For the first time in years, neither Theron nor Marisella would be able to reach me whenever they pleased.

Later that afternoon, I stood inside my room staring at my reflection longer than I had in years.

Then, slowly, I opened my wardrobe and reached for the crimson dress Theron once claimed was “far too loud” for a woman my age. After that, I picked up the deep berry lip pigment he once mocked for making me “look older instead of prettier.”

I wore both anyway.

Proudly.

The woman staring back at me from the mirror looked unfamiliar, but not in a bad way. There was still sadness in her eyes, still exhaustion carved into the corners of her face, but beneath it, something else had begun stirring quietly.

Something awake.

I retrieved the small pouch of moonstone coins hidden beneath the loose floorboard under my cabinet—the savings Theron never knew existed—and left the packhouse alone.

The city bordering the Darkmoor territory bustled with life beneath the afternoon sun. Merchants shouted from market stalls while wolves moved through the crowded streets draped in rich cloaks and silver jewelry. Normally, I would have felt out of place walking there alone, but today I simply kept moving forward, clutching my bag tightly as though I truly had somewhere important to be.

Perhaps I did.

There was a café near the center square I had passed countless times throughout the years. Every time I mentioned wanting to try their desserts, Theron always dismissed the idea immediately.

“More sweets?” he would scoff. “Elyria, have you looked at yourself lately?”

He always said it with that amused half-smile, as though insulting me was harmless teasing I should laugh along with.

Yet I still remembered the way he once fed the exact same pastries to Marisella during a winter gathering, smiling at her with a softness I had not seen directed toward me in years.

I never said anything back then.

I simply swallowed the hurt quietly like I always did.

But today, I pushed open the café doors and walked inside without hesitation.

The scent of warm vanilla and fresh berries wrapped around me instantly. Sunlight poured through the windows, casting golden light across polished wooden tables and shelves lined with delicate pastries.

For once, no one looked at me like I did not belong there.

I sat near the window and ordered the most expensive dessert on the menu—a delicate layered cake decorated with sugared berries and tiny flakes of edible gold.

When the first bite melted against my tongue, my eyes stung unexpectedly with tears.

It was sweet.

Light.

Beautiful.

And for the first time in a very long while, something belonged entirely to me.

As I ate slowly, I absentmindedly opened the crystal viewing tablet resting in my bag, intending only to distract myself for a few moments.

That was when I saw Celia’s public memory post glowing across the screen.

Celia.

One of my closest friends.

Or at least, I thought she had been.

My chest tightened as I opened the memory projection.

The moment the images appeared, the entire world seemed to stop around me.

There they were.

The Moon Tide Voyage.

The ceremony.

Theron stood dressed in formal black ceremonial robes while Marisella glowed beside him in white silk beneath strings of moon lanterns. Around them, guests laughed and applauded as music echoed across the enormous ship deck.

My son stood near the front smiling proudly.

My father raised a silver goblet in celebration.

Even Celia herself laughed beside the other guests as though this were the happiest occasion imaginable.

Every single one of them knew.

The realization hollowed me out completely.

I watched silently as Theron brushed a kiss against Marisella’s forehead while guests cheered around them. My father stood beside the couple looking proud, not ashamed. Not conflicted. Proud.

As though replacing me was the most natural thing in the world.

My fingers trembled violently.

The silver fork slipped from my hand and clattered against the plate loud enough to draw glances from nearby tables.

But I barely noticed.

Because suddenly, everything became painfully clear.

My marriage had never been sacred to any of them.

Not the bond.

Not the vows spoken beneath the Moon Goddess.

Not the years I spent sacrificing pieces of myself for this family.

To them, I had only ever been convenient.

A placeholder.

The quiet woman who remained loyal while waiting for the true bride to finally arrive.

Tears blurred my vision, but this time, something inside me did not break.

Instead, something hardened.

Slowly, I wiped my face with the back of my hand and stood from the table.

No one in that ceremony had chosen me.

Not Theron.

Not my father.

Not even my own son.

So perhaps it was finally time I chose myself instead.

Directly across the street stood a boutique I had admired silently for years without ever entering. Elegant gowns filled the display windows, shimmering beneath enchanted lantern light like something meant for another kind of woman.

Not someone like me.

At least, that was what I used to believe.

Today, I crossed the street and walked inside.

A young saleswoman greeted me warmly the moment I entered.

“Are you searching for something special, my lady?” she asked kindly.

I met her gaze steadily.

“Yes,” I answered. “I would like to try on a ceremonial gown.”

Her brows lifted slightly in surprise.

“For your union ceremony?”

For a moment, I thought about saying no.

Instead, I straightened my shoulders.

“Yes,” I said softly. “For mine.”

She smiled then and guided me through rows of gowns made from silk, lace, and moon-thread embroidery. I tried several on, allowing myself to truly look at my reflection each time instead of immediately searching for flaws the way I always had before.

Then I found it.

The gown was simple compared to the others—elegant without trying too hard, soft ivory fabric draping gracefully over my figure without unnecessary jewels or elaborate designs.

When I stepped before the mirror wearing it, my breath caught.

For the first time in years, I did not see a forgotten wife staring back at me.

I did not see a woman abandoned.

I saw someone still standing despite everything.

Someone still whole.

My eyes burned as I asked the saleswoman to capture a memory portrait of me wearing the dress. When she handed me the printed image moments later, I stared at it for a long time before smiling softly.

Not for Theron.

Not for anyone else.

For me.

I purchased the gown with my own saved moonstones, then stepped back outside into the evening air clutching the parcel against my chest.

After a long moment, I reached into my bag and pulled out the small communication crystal tucked inside.

There was one final thing I needed to do.

The line connected after only two pulses.

I inDarkveild shakily before speaking.

“Hello,” I said quietly, though this time my voice did not tremble. “I would like to begin the dissolution of my mating contract.”

And just like that, for the very first time in twenty-five years—

I chose myself.