But this time, Joe’s eyes darted away, his tone strangely stiff.

“After what happened last time… you know my parents’ health isn’t great. If they see you again, it’ll only stimulate them.”

He hesitated, voice softening as if trying to soothe me.

“Don’t take it the wrong way. I’ll talk to them about the engagement. Emma grew up under their roof, so of course they’re closer to her. Once things settle down… they’ll stop holding grudges.”

I watched as he walked away with her, a dull ache spreading in my chest until even swallowing tasted like blood.

Five years. That’s all it took for Joe to forget the love he once swore to me, the vows that no one would ever hurt me.

He’d forgotten them all—forgotten me—and even pushed me into the flames himself, leaving me to suffer alone in that hospital bed.

After countless rejections, I finally understood who Joe had been waiting for all along.

Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes, falling one by one onto the cold floor.

I wiped my face and drew in a deep breath.

Back at the villa, I started packing my things. Five years together had left traces of us everywhere.

I used to believe—foolishly—that he loved me.

The paintings in our home were all ones I’d picked out. He once told me he wanted a pup with me, that we’d take our little one on adventures, run through the forests under the moonlight.

But before we could even have a pup, he’d already stopped loving me.

I worked so hard that I always stayed up until midnight, which caused me constant headaches. Joe found out, and no matter where he was on a business trip, he never forgot to remind me to sleep. He would talk to me on the phone until I fell asleep.

Sometimes the pain was so severe as if it could kill me. Joe felt heartbreaking seeing me suffer. So, he learned massage from the Pack Doctor and gave me a massage when I had a headache.

Now everything blurred, fading like a memory that no longer belonged to me.

He used to notice every glance of mine—whenever my eyes lingered on something, he’d secretly buy it, awkward but full of love.

“I don’t ever want you to have to ask,” he once said, kissing my cheek and ruffling my hair, his voice gentle as he buried his face against my neck.

I don’t know when it started…

but somewhere along the way, Joe grew tired of us.

The first time I proposed to Joe, he smiled and said we were too young—that marrying too early would only make us grow tired of each other like every other couple.

The second time, I had everything prepared—a surprise, candles, the necklace he once said he loved on me. But before I could walk into the room, I overheard him talking to his friends.

“I’m bored of Carol. The spark’s gone. But she is good to me, yeah, I just can’t break up with her.”

“A girl proposing to a guy—shouldn’t she realize by now that I don’t love her?”

The last time...

I gave everything I had. I stood in front of his parents, humbling myself, saying I wanted to marry Joe. I told them I didn’t care about the Smith family’s fortune, didn’t want the Luna title. I only want to be his wife.

But his sister Emma—the one he’d grown up with though they shared no blood—was there that day. The moment when she heard my proposal, she threw a tantrum due to jealousy.

Now, all of it is over. I’ve finally let go.

Every photo I ever took of Joe over the past five years—I tore them all into pieces.

Even the love letter he wrote me, the only one, I burned to ashes with a lighter.

He didn’t message me once that following week, he was waiting for me to give in.

While I had moved my luggage out of his villa long before he noticed.

He probably thought I was throwing another tantrum, so he didn’t bother to check.

But as time went on… it seemed he started to remember I existed.

Three days before I returned to the Blood Moon Pack—our fifth anniversary—Joe finally called.

“Carol,” he said softly, “our five-year anniversary’s coming up. I booked the Quiet Sparrow Gallery, and dinner at your favorite steakhouse. We should talk.”

As his voice faded, a text appeared on my screen. It was the address.

That gallery was where we first met. We’d both reached for the same painting at the same time, even shared the same thoughts about it.

Back then, I’d foolishly believed it was Luna’s blessing. My heart had raced so wildly I thought it would burst—convinced that Joe was my fate mate for life.

As always, every year on our anniversary, I’d prepare a gift for Joe.

This year would be the last.

I stood at the entrance of the Quiet Sparrow Gallery, waiting. Staff checked invitations at the door while guests flowed past me, laughter and perfume filling the air. The hands on my watch kept turning, steady and merciless.

More than half an hour had passed since our appointed time. Still no sign of Joe.

Just as I was about to call him, the night sky suddenly erupted in a shower of fireworks.

The cobblestone path ahead glowed under bursts of color, lined on both sides with fresh roses. I followed it to the end—where I finally saw him.

Joe stood there in a black suit, down on one knee, holding a velvet box with a diamond ring inside…

and proposing to Emma.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“The Alpha really went all out,” someone nearby whispered. “I heard those flowers were flown in by private jet, and he rented out the whole restaurant, too.”

“But… isn’t his girlfriend someone else?”

“Girlfriend? Please. It’s normal to flirt with some pretty women before marriage. And Emma? She was raised by the elder Luna herself. How could some country girls compare with her manner and knowledge.”

Their words buzzed in my ears, sharp and mocking.

So, it wasn’t our fifth anniversary after all.

It was a grand engagement banquet.

And the man kneeling under the fireworks—was my boyfriend.

But the woman he was proposing to… wasn’t me.

My heart slowly steadied. I let out a quiet sigh and tossed the gift I’d prepared into the nearest trash bin. Then I turned, ready to leave this place—and him—behind.

But before I could take a step, Emma appeared in front of me.

The gentle, innocent mask she always wore around Joe was gone. In its place was a sharp, mocking smile.

“I heard today’s your fifth anniversary with Joe,” she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Guess what? He didn’t even remember. He only realized because today was our engagement banquet—and then he remembered you still existed.”

If this had been before, I would’ve slapped her right there.

“Is that so?” I smiled faintly. “Then I wish you both happiness.”

I turned to leave, brushing past her shoulder.

But then—Emma’s heel slipped. She fell backward, landing hard, the bouquet in her hand scattering across her lap.

Before I could even react, Joe came rushing over—just in time to see her on the ground.

“Carol! Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”

Without warning, he grabbed me by the collar, yanking me up with brutal force.

“I told you I’d handle the marriage! Why the hell would you hurt Emma?”

The fabric tightened around my throat. I couldn’t breathe. My face flushed red, veins rising along my hands as I clawed at his grip.

Before I could find my voice, Emma—completely unharmed—clutched her chest dramatically and began gasping for air.

Joe panicked. His hands shook as he called the driver, eyes reddening in fear.

“Do you even know she has heart disease? She is fragile, nothing like you!” he shouted, voice breaking with fury as he turned on me.

“If you want to get married so badly, find someone else! I will never marry you. Get out—don’t ever show up in front of me again!”

Laughter rippled through the onlookers; their pity was sharp as knives. The pain around my neck dulled into numbness.

I watched them walk away—Joe half-carrying Emma, her head resting against his chest.

My chest tightened painfully, but I forced myself to breathe.

“Joe,” I whispered, barely audible. “Let’s break up.”

I didn’t know if he heard me.

All I saw was the cloud of dust his car kicked up as it disappeared into the night.

The next morning, I booked the earliest flight out.

And I left that cursed place behind.