“Don’t keep replaying yesterday in your head,” Kaelen said over the phone, his tone brisk, as if settling an inconvenience. “I already apologized to Marcella for you.”

“Alright,” Liora replied evenly.

“She thinks weddings are nothing but pageantry,” he continued. “There’s no need to make a fuss. Our mate bond is solid—no rituals or ceremonies are needed to prove that. We’ll keep everything minimal.”

“Do whatever you think is best,” Liora said softly.

By then, her choice had already been made.

This mating ceremony would likely be the most stripped-down one the packs had ever seen.

No ceremonial photos beneath the moon.

No registration with the elders.

No officiating alpha.

And in the end—no bride.

Once the call ended, Liora straightened. Without hesitation, she picked up a thick marker and crossed out Wedding Photoshoot on her calendar, the ink cutting decisively through the words.

Kaelen had always belonged more to his work than to anything else, and Liora had learned long ago not to interrupt him when he was busy. When she began planning the ceremony, she’d bought a special lunar calendar, filling each square with careful notes and quiet hopes. Every date represented a promise she wanted to keep, a dream she believed would finally come true—a once-in-a-lifetime moment she thought she was building toward.

Now, all of that disappeared beneath heavy strokes of black ink, smothered by regret and silence, leaving behind a hollow ache she didn’t bother naming.

She exhaled slowly and looked around the room. The crimson wedding banners and silver charms glared back at her, mocking her with their brightness. It took her the rest of the day to dismantle what she had so carefully arranged—pulling down decorations, folding fabrics, erasing the evidence of a dream that no longer belonged to her.

By nightfall, however, Kaelen’s name was everywhere.

“To make his beloved smile, the Alpha CEO spends eight million on a rare antique pearl brooch.”

The image attached was blurry, but the woman at his side was assumed to be Liora.

A quiet, bitter laugh slipped from her throat.

So this was where the funds meant for their ceremony had gone.

Strangely, the realization didn’t hurt as much as she expected. Somewhere along the way, Liora had already closed the door on the sorrow tied to Kaelen.

In the days that followed, he never came home.

Liora didn’t ask where he was. She didn’t prepare meals or leave messages like she used to. Instead, she submitted her resignation, said her farewells to a handful of trusted coworkers, and began quietly telling her friends that she would soon be leaving the country—and the pack lands altogether.

They exchanged looks, their shared sigh heavy with understanding.

“We thought this might happen,” one of them admitted gently.

Without another word, another friend opened Kaelen’s social feed and handed the phone to Liora.

“To outsiders, it probably looks like this is you,” she said carefully. “But we all know… it’s Marcella.”

Only then did everything fully settle into place.

Kaelen had been with Marcella the entire time.

Though he rarely posted anything before, his updates had suddenly become frequent—one after another, all centered around her. They went to amusement parks, wandered through ceremonial shops trying on mating attire, and watched the moon rise together from the peak of a mountain.

His affection wasn’t subtle. It was laid bare for the world to see.

The only thing he’d done to conceal it was block Liora from seeing any of it.

Her friends grew quiet, unease filling the space between them.

“Liora… are you holding up?” one finally asked, worry threading through her voice.

“There’s no point crying over someone like him,” another added quickly. “Kaelen doesn’t deserve you. One day, when Marcella shows her true nature, he’ll regret everything.”

Liora smiled faintly, her gaze drifting to the bustling street beyond the window, where life went on as if nothing had changed.

“It’s alright,” she said calmly. “I really don’t care anymore.” After a pause, she added softly, “But I do need your help with something…”

In just a few days, she would leave this place for good, severing herself from the past entirely. There was no time left to drown in grief over Kaelen.

When he finally returned home after days of silence, Liora felt nothing.

She remained distant, her cool indifference slicing cleanly through the lingering tension. Kaelen, meanwhile, seemed lost in his own world. Even after stepping inside, his attention never wavered from the glowing screen in his hand, his fingers moving rapidly as he typed—completely oblivious to the woman standing only a few steps away.

Liora remained seated beside him, quiet and composed, her laptop balanced neatly on her knees as she copied the surveillance footage onto a small silver USB drive. She moved with deliberate calm, every click precise. In her mind, she already pictured the parting gift she planned to leave behind—something unforgettable, something that would linger long after she was gone.

Midway through the transfer, Kaelen suddenly lifted his head, his sharp wolf senses sweeping through the house. His brows knit together slightly. “Why does it feel so… bare in here?” he asked, glancing around. “Didn’t you put up the decorations?”

“You said we shouldn’t make a fuss,” Liora replied evenly.

She wasn’t bothered. She knew better than anyone that Kaelen’s attention no longer lingered on anything that didn’t revolve around Marcella. Still, this time, his gaze paused on the countdown calendar hanging in the living room. A small chuckle escaped him.

“Funny how time works,” he said lightly. “Only seven days left until the ceremony.”

Liora closed her laptop and rose to her feet. Walking over to the calendar, she reached up and tore away two pages in one swift motion.

“It’s five days now,” she corrected calmly.

The torn pages fluttered to the floor. Written on them were two handwritten wishes: Ride the Ferris wheel together and Watch the stars side by side. Each one struck quietly, cruelly—because Kaelen had already done both of those things, just not with her.

A strange sensation flickered through Kaelen’s chest, brief but sharp, like the shadow of a memory slipping through his claws. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but before he could, Liora’s phone vibrated.

She glanced at the screen, her mother’s name lighting up the display. “Excuse me,” she said softly, stepping out onto the balcony.

By the time she returned, Kaelen had already retreated into his own world, eyes fixed on his phone, fingers moving quickly—no doubt immersed in a conversation with Marcella.

“Who was that?” he asked absentmindedly. “I thought I heard something about visas.”

“Just work,” Liora answered lightly, waving it off.

He visibly relaxed. “Good. Don’t go planning any trips after the ceremony. I won’t have time for a honeymoon.”

“I know,” she replied quietly.

Ever since Marcella came back, Kaelen couldn’t stand being away from her for long—not even a single night. There was no room left in his life for anyone else.

They sat together in silence, the air growing heavier by the second. Kaelen shifted in his seat, an unshakable restlessness settling in his gut, foreign and uncomfortable.

Liora had always been like this—gentle, restrained, carrying herself with an elegance forged through necessity rather than ease. She never lashed out, never demanded attention like other she-wolves might.

But Kaelen knew that calm was something she had learned, not chosen. A shield she’d perfected over time.

Beneath it, she was still the same girl—fragile, starved for affection, always waiting for love that rarely came.

Before, every time he came home, she would run to him, eyes bright, arms wrapping around him as she eagerly recounted her day. She would talk endlessly, filling the space with warmth and sound, never caring whether he truly listened.

Now, the silence roared.

It pressed against him, wrong and unsettling. Finally, Kaelen put his phone aside and looked at her properly.

“You’ve done so much preparing for the ceremony,” he began. “Once it’s over—”

Liora interrupted him, her voice calm but sharp. “Where’s your ring?”

He stiffened. “The ring?” He hesitated. “I… don’t know. I probably misplaced it.”

The memory surfaced against his will. That night—Marcella seeing the ring, her expression darkening. He’d taken it off to soothe her, setting it aside carelessly, never bothering to retrieve it.

Kaelen opened his mouth, guilt flickering in his eyes, ready to explain—but Liora spoke first, dismissive and detached.

“If it’s gone, then it’s gone. Just buy another one.”

She didn’t wait for a response.

In her heart, she already knew how the story would end. After she left, that replacement ring wouldn’t be meant for her. Kaelen would choose something exquisite—something perfect—for Marcella instead.

This ring, their ring, had been doomed the moment Marcella returned. Whether it disappeared now or later made no difference at all.

Kaelen had long taken Liora’s patience for granted—her endless tolerance, her willingness to bend until she nearly broke.

But her indifference now unsettled him deeply. It felt as though he hadn’t just lost a ring, but something far more precious, something he couldn’t name.

The unease clawed at him, persistent and unfamiliar. And for the first time, Kaelen resolved to do something—anything—to fix what was slipping from his grasp.

“Since the pack’s administrative hall is unusually quiet today,” Kaelen said offhandedly, as if the thought had just occurred to him, “why don’t I take you out and choose another ring? Something more imposing. Call it a reward—for holding everything together these past few days.”

Liora’s brows knit reflexively. A polite refusal had already reached the edge of her tongue when the sharp buzz of his phone cut cleanly through the air. Kaelen glanced down, and the shift in him was immediate—subtle, but unmistakable to someone who had lived beside the same wolf for years.

He rose at once, already halfway to the door. Then, as if a lingering instinct tugged at him from behind, he hesitated and turned back. Lowering himself, he brushed a kiss against her forehead. It was light, careful—almost restrained, as though he were afraid of pressing too hard.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Pack affairs have been relentless. I know I’ve neglected you.” His voice softened, slipping into something gentler. “Once things stabilize, I swear I’ll make it up to you. I’ll give you everything. I’ll make you happier than anyone else in this territory.”

In nearly ten years of sharing a den, of being bound by promise and proximity, Kaelen had never spoken to Liora in that tone.

He had always believed affection was something most women required in abundance—soft words, repeated reassurances, constant attention. Liora had never seemed to need any of that. She was steady. Rational. A she-wolf who learned early how to stand without leaning on anyone.

That kind of indulgence had always been reserved for Marcella—the one who fed on affection, who could unravel into tears over the slightest neglect and demand to be soothed.

Now, however, guilt had sunk its teeth into him. The persistent discomfort of knowing he had failed Liora drove this sudden display of tenderness, an awkward attempt to soothe the unrest clawing at his conscience.

Liora offered nothing in return. No smile. No frown. Her face was placid, unreadable—like the surface of a moonlit lake hiding unseen depths beneath.

Once Kaelen left, Liora rose and walked toward the bathroom. Her steps were measured, unhurried. She turned on the tap and washed her face slowly, deliberately, as if rinsing away not just the faint warmth of his touch, but the illusion behind it.

Affection offered too late meant nothing. Nor did gestures born from regret rather than love. She wanted none of it.

The days slipped past in quiet succession until the eve of the mating ceremony arrived. Only two fragile pages clung to the lunar calendar now, edges curling. The wish written across today’s square read: Have a family dinner together.

For more than twenty years, Liora had carried that hope in silence. But she had always known it was nothing more than fantasy. Her mother would never forgive her father—and Liora, in turn, would never truly forgive Kaelen.

She didn’t linger on it.

Light makeup. Her favorite white dress. One steady breath. Then she stepped out alone.

She watched a movie by herself. Ordered a paired meal meant for lovers and ate it in silence. She boarded the Ferris wheel without company, sitting still as it carried her upward.

At the highest point, the sun was sinking. Amber light spilled across the city she had grown up in, bathing familiar pack lands in gold. A breeze brushed her cheeks. Liora lifted her arms slightly, feeling as though her memories were loosening, scattering into the open sky.

When night settled fully, she bought herself an ice cream and left the amusement grounds. Sitting on a nearby bench, she savored the cold sweetness while gazing upward.

The stars had always been her refuge. On the nights she’d been driven from home, it was a younger Kaelen who had once lain beside her in the grass, fingers entwined with hers as they traced constellations across the dark.

But that past no longer mattered.

People changed. Wolves strayed. The stars, however, remained—constant and indifferent. No matter where she went, the same lights would shine above her, unwavering and eternal.

She finished the ice cream, stood, and began the walk home. Overhead, the stars shimmered faintly as her phone vibrated.

A message from Marcella.

[Dad made sweet-and-sour fish tonight. It’s amazing. You’ve probably never tasted it, have you?]

Liora opened the attached video. Laughter filled the screen. Red ceremonial decorations adorned the room. Kaelen and Marcella sat at the center of the table, surrounded by family, smiling as they discussed the upcoming mating ceremony.

Marcella’s quiet, deliberate cruelty didn’t anger Liora. She had endured far worse in her life.

Instead, she found it faintly absurd.

The ceremony everyone was so busy preparing for—

Whose was it, really?