The next morning, Celes was awoken by the howls of wolves in the distance. She had grown accustomed to the pack's rituals, but today the howls seemed different, more mournful. It was as if the entire forest was grieving, their sorrow echoing through the trees.

After a somber breakfast, she visited Old Sage for a follow-up appointment. The quiet, dimly lit room felt heavy with unspoken words. Sage, absorbed in his notes, finally looked up, his eyes piercing into hers.

"I'll be straight to the point. I want you to become my apprentice, Celes," he said, his voice steady and deliberate.

Celes was taken aback. "I'm sorry?"

Sage's gaze was resolute.

"Why me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The honor of the offer, knowing Sage’s esteemed reputation as a healer both within and beyond the pack, was overwhelming. To work under him and learn from him would be a privilege beyond measure. But of all healers, why her?

Sage’s gaze softened. "I see your potential," he replied simply, not elaborating further. "You have a natural talent in healing." His words, though few, held weight.

For the first time that week, Celes felt a flicker of happiness. But it was instantly crushed when Andros’s face popped into her mind. Her momentary joy was overshadowed by the thought of Andros’s likely disapproval. She was all too familiar with his tendency to belittle her aspirations, making her doubt herself at every turn.

Sage, still observing her like a hawk, noticed the change in her expression.

"Think about it," he said gently. "You don't have to give me an answer right now."

Celes nodded, appreciating his patience.

"Thank you, Sage. I will think about it. Really."

As their conversation ended, she received a mindlink from Andros. His voice invaded her thoughts, filled with the same old complaints and grievances.

[Why didn't you wake me up, Celes? I overslept because you left without telling me.]

Celes used to cater to his every need, but now she felt a new resolve. "Since you're going to be late, you’d better get up soon," she replied calmly.

[What am I going to wear?] Andros asked.

"Just choose whatever you want from the closet," she said.

[But I can't find anything that's ironed...]

Celes almost rolled her eyes.

"Andros. I'm sorry but I have to go. You'll figure it out," she said, ending the link.

[Cel—]

Returning home, Celes found herself at a crossroads. Every fiber of her being agreed to the idea of working under Old Sage. It was a dream she had harbored for years, inspired by her mother, who was also a healer. She grew up watching her mother treat almost every sickness with just some herbal medicine, marveling at the magic of healing.

Yet, there was one thing that held her back—the part of her that still beat for her mate, the part that clung to the hope that Andros would change, that he would recognize her worth and support her dreams. She thought hard about Old Sage's proposition, weighing her desires against her reality.

As the day wore on, she wrestled with her decision. The thought of disappointing Andros filled her with dread, but the opportunity to follow in her mother's footsteps, to learn from the best and become a healer too, was too precious to ignore.

Finally, after a long and tumultuous internal debate, Celes made a choice.

The following day, Celes made her way to the Healer’s quarters, her heart both heavy and hopeful as she prepared to give her answer to Old Sage. The path seemed shorter than usual, her steps light with anticipation. When she arrived, Sage was already seated at his desk, surrounded by the familiar aroma of herbs and old parchment. The room, a sanctuary of wisdom and healing, felt like a second home to her.

Comfortable

Nostalgic.

“Good morning, Celes,” Sage greeted, looking up from his notes. His sharp eyes softened as he saw her.

“Good morning, Sage,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

"What brought you here? Have you decided now?"

Celes looked at him for a moment, before taking a deep breath.

“I have. I've been thinking about this for the past couple days, and..." she sighed, "I wanted to thank you for the opportunity you’ve given me. I will take your offer. I’m eager to learn and help in any way I can.”

Sage’s rare smile was a balm to her nerves. “I’m glad to hear that you and Andros have considered my invitation,” he said, his tone warm.

Celes felt a pang of guilt but did not correct him about the omission of her husband’s approval. She simply accepted his response and sat down to begin her studies.

"So, where do I start?"

Without wasting any time, Sage handed her a stack of books filled with medical knowledge and herbal remedies. The ancient texts were dense with information, but Celes dove into them with a fervor she hadn’t felt in years. Each page opened up new worlds of possibility, and she lost herself in the intricate details of healing arts and the lore of ancient wolf remedies. The hours slipped away unnoticed as she absorbed every piece of knowledge she could.

By the time she returned home, the evening had settled into darkness. The house was quiet, but Andros’s presence was palpable. He greeted her with a sharp edge in his voice, demanding to know where she had been and why there was no dinner prepared.

Celes stood momentarily stunned by the abruptness of his accusation but said nothing. Her silence was a quiet rebellion against his demands.

She moved to the kitchen to prepare a simple meal, her hands moving mechanically as she tried to ignore the tension between them. They ate in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

Andros, perhaps sensing her discontent, offered to wash the dishes, a rare gesture that felt more like an obligation than an act of kindness. Celes accepted the offer with a muted nod, her mind already drifting back to the solace she had found in her studies.

At least, I have something to look forward to.

That night, as they lay in bed, Celes was roused from sleep by Andros’s groans of discomfort. He complained of a stomachache, his voice tinged with melodramatic pain.

Still half-asleep, Celes mumbled, "You should find something for yourself."

Andros turned to her, his face contorted with hurt and betrayal. "You used to care," he said quietly, his eyes searching hers for a hint of the woman who once went out of her way to look after him.

Celes, struggling to keep her eyes open, sighed. "Andros, it's late. I'm tired."

His expression hardened, the distance between them growing more palpable in the dim light. "I see," he whispered, turning away from her.

Celes watched his back for a moment, the weight of their strained relationship settling heavily on her chest. She closed her eyes, feeling the guilt of her silent reproach as she tried to drift back to sleep. But flood of memories came rushing back to her—a time when she had been caught in the rain, desperate to bring him medicine to soothe his stomachache.

It was raining heavily.

I arrived at the Consul’s office, drenched and disheveled, my hair plastered to my face and clothes clinging uncomfortably to my skin. The sentinels and scouts, including Andros’s own Gamma and Delta, turned to me with mocking laughter.

“What are you doing here, Celes? Looking for a place to dry off?”

"C'mon, she's the Beta's mate?"

"Scrawny look suits you, doll."

Ignoring them, I pushed forward, my heart pounding. I found Andros at his desk, papers strewn around him.

“Andros,” I panted, holding out the medicine, “I brought this for you.”

He looked up, his expression icy. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his tone laced with irritation.

“I heard you were sick."

His eyes flicked over my rain-soaked form with disdain. “You look like a drowned rat."

That erupted laughter from his own men.

As if embarrassed, he yanked my wrist and dragged me outside. When we were out of the room, he hissed.

"You’re embarrasing me, Celes. Don’t ever come to my office again.”

Now, lying in bed beside him, the memory of that day stung anew. The humiliation, the cold dismissal—it all came rushing back, a painful reminder of the disdain he had shown her. She had been drenched and humiliated, her sincere effort ignored and ridiculed.

Shaking off the painful recollection, Celes rose from the bed and prepared a mixture of herbal tea and an ointment for Andros’s stomachache. The process was familiar and comforting, a connection to her mother’s teachings and the promise of a new beginning under Old Sage’s mentorship.

"Here, drink this. It will help."

As she handed the remedies to Andros, he looked at her with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

“Where did you learn this?” he asked, taking the cup of tea and sniffing it cautiously. “This is the first time you’ve done something like this.”

Celes shrugged. “Sage taught me.”

As the days unfolded, Celes found herself increasingly absorbed by her new role as Old Sage’s apprentice. The knowledge she was gaining from the esteemed healer filled her with a sense of purpose she had not felt in years. Each day brought new lessons and insights, and the work rekindled a spark within her that had long been extinguished by the weariness of her troubled marriage.

Yet, the satisfaction she found in her new position was marred by the growing tension between her and Andros. He had begun to show an overt disdain for her apprenticeship, a resentment that simmered beneath the surface. His discontent was palpable, though he masked it with a veneer of indifference.

One afternoon, as Celes was studying in the healer’s quarters, she received a mindlink from Andros. He mentioned that he would pick her up later and that they would go somewhere. When she asked where he was now, he replied that he was still at the Consul's meeting and that the investigation regarding Faelan was still ongoing. Celes, feeling indifferent, simply said okay and cut the link.

Later, Ales called her to say hello, her voice cheerful as always.

[Hey, Celes! How are you? Are you okay now? Sorry, I haven't visited you at the Healer's. My brother just fill me. Hope he's not stressing you?]

Celes chuckled.

Oh how I miss this girl.

"Thank you, Ales. I feel so much better now that you call. I've been feeling lonely."

[Me, too. I just call because I want to hear your voice so I can relax. Ugh, I just remember why I'm so pissed. I saw that Szarina at the Consul's meeting today.]

Celes's heart sank a little but she tried to keep her tone light. "Oh? What was she doing there?"

Ales sighed. [You know, the usual. But get this—she interrupted a conversation about what gift brother should get for you. Just barged in and asked him to go with her somewhere.]

Celes forced a smile, even though Ales couldn't see it. "Really? That's unexpected."

[Ugh, it was!] Ales groaned. [I can't believe how easily he complied. He always does that because of his stupid sense of duty.]

Celes's smile turned bitter as she thought to herself, It's not only duty driving Andros. Feeling suddenly disappointed, Celes tried to divert their conversation and sighed in relief when Ales did not notice. They catch up for a long while, but the heavy feeling did not even go away long after their call ended.

That evening, as Celes returned from the healer’s quarters, her hands full of medical journals and notes, she was met by Andros’s barely-contained frustration. He was sitting with a bouquet of flowers, his eyes expectantly happy.

Why is he here?

"What's the occasion?" she asked, her voice neutral.

Andros went pale. "Today is our wedding anniversary," he said, his voice tight.

Celes realized why he had been asking Ales about what gift she would like.

"Oh. I'm sorry. It slipped my mind," she admitted honestly.

Andros's expression darkened.

"Of course it did. Too busy with your damn job to remember our anniversary," he snapped.

What seemed like a sweet moment quickly devolved into another argument.

His impatience and irritation stung, but Celes’s calm demeanor only seemed to fuel his ire. He accused her of neglecting her duties at home, of prioritizing her work over their relationship. The accusations cut deep, and Celes struggled to keep her composure as she faced his anger.

Now, as she stood in their home, the weight of his accusations felt like a cruel echo of that past humiliation. The thought of how she had once tried to make their anniversaries and birthdays special, only to be dismissed as trivial, weighed heavily on her. She had meticulously planned dinners and decorations, her efforts a testament to her love for him, only to have her gestures belittled as unnecessary and uncomfortable. The memories of her attempts to celebrate their life together, only to be rebuked for them, were a painful reminder of the futility of her past efforts.

The argument ended with Andros grudgingly offering to take her out for dinner to celebrate their anniversary. The offer was half-hearted, a feeble attempt to patch over the cracks in their relationship. Celes accepted, clinging to a faint hope that the evening might provide some solace.

They went to a quaint restaurant, where the atmosphere was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the coldness that had settled between them. For a while, they managed to maintain a semblance of peace, sharing a meal in silence. Andros seemed ill at ease, his glances at his watch betraying his preoccupation with something else.

As they finished their meal, Andros' phone rang. Without glancing at the screen, he turned it facedown and continued eating. But after a few seconds, it rang again.

"You won't answer that?"

"They can wait."

It rang again.

"You can answer it. Maybe it's an emergency."

Andros sighed loudly and took his phone. But his expression changed upon seeing the caller's ID. And judging from his expression alone, Celes knew who the caller was.

“Szar. What's wrong? You sound worried."

Szar?

[Andros, it’s Reign. He’s developed a high fever and it’s not going down. I’m really scared. Can you come over?]

It was not on loudspeak, but it was loud enough to hear from her frantic voice.

“What’s his temperature? Have you called the doctor?”

[It’s 39°C. Almost 40! I’ve called the doctor, but they’re not available right now. I’m doing what I can, but I’m so overwhelmed.]

“Okay, stay calm."

Andros looked at Celes as if to gauge her reaction, and Celes nodded.

"Go," she mouthed, before bringing the slice of steak unto her mouth.

"Okay. I’m on my way. I’ll handle it. Have you tried any remedies or given him any medication?”

[I’ve given him some fever-reducing medicine, but it hasn’t helped so far. I’m really worried, Andros.]

“I understand. I’ll be there as fast as I can. Try to keep Reign cool and hydrated until I arrive.”

[Thank you, Andros. I’m just so worried about him.]

Andros looked at Celes, filled with awkwardness and guilt. Celes nodded, understanding what would come next.

"Go," Celes replied, her voice steady. "He needs you."

“I’m sorry for having to leave suddenly, Celes. I didn’t expect this.”

“It’s okay. Duty comes first. I hope Reign feels better soon.”

Andros' lips tightened into a thin line.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“There’s no need to worry about that right now. Just focus on Reign.”

"I’ll see you later at home, then?”

Celes did not bother to reply.

Andros left quickly, leaving Celes alone at the table. She continued to eat in silence, her anger simmering. The sight of the empty chair across from her stung deeply, her heart sank as she thought about Szarina, the Luna, and Faelan's heir, whom Andros had claimed to have unrequited love for.

As long as there's Szarina, I will always come second.