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?

Liora didn’t see any reason to waste words on Marcella. Calm and deliberate, she deleted the message, blocked her number, and opened her chat with Kaelen. The last conversation they’d shared had been over a week ago, and the silence since then weighed heavily.

As she scrolled through the thread, a familiar ache settled into her chest. Message after message stretched across the screen, each one carrying her thoughts, her heart laid bare. She had told him everything—from lofty dreams of leading her own pack lands someday, to trivial musings about her meals, even the way the wind smelled on a crisp morning. Every word a thread connecting them.

Kaelen’s replies were sparse, scattered like distant echoes in a den long abandoned. When he did answer, it was always about Marcella—her moods, her whims, her every fleeting desire. Liora felt the familiar thrum of betrayal press against her ribs, sharp and insistent.

For the first time in years, she didn’t want to reply. If her words would vanish into silence, what was the point of speaking at all?

She tucked her phone into her pocket, ready to leave it at that, when Kaelen’s name flashed across the screen. He was calling.

“Where are you?” His voice carried the low growl of worry, tinged with restrained reproach. “It’s late… why aren’t you home yet?”

Tonight, he had refused Marcella’s invitation, a rare deviation from his usual routine, intending to return early and spend time with Liora. But the den was empty when he arrived. She hadn’t answered his calls, hadn’t replied to his messages—and his worry had escalated to the edge of panic.

Liora glanced at the clock. Eight PM.

He had always been a wanderer of the night, returning at odd hours or disappearing entirely until the early dawn. Liora had waited countless nights, a single lantern burning in the corner of the den, the scent of simmering soup hanging faintly in the air. And if he returned drunk, she would rise from sleep, fighting exhaustion to tend him.

But what had Kaelen ever done for her in return?

She couldn’t remember a single gesture. Her patience frayed, and the words came out sharper than she intended.

“Can’t I have a life of my own?”

It was the first time she had ever dared speak to him this way.

A tense silence followed, broken only when his voice softened.

“Liora… I’ve missed you these past few days.”

“Tomorrow’s the ceremony,” she said quietly, her tone even. “I was just worried something might happen to you. Don’t get upset. Wait for me, alright? I’m coming to get you now.”

Within minutes, Kaelen pulled up outside in his car, a bouquet of fresh flowers in hand—a gesture she did not accept. Instead, she opened the passenger door, greeted by a faint scent that made her stomach twist. Nausea rolled over her, and she grabbed a tissue, opting to climb into the back seat rather than sit in the front beside him.

Kaelen, absorbed in his glowing phone screen, didn’t notice.

“Why’d you go to the amusement park?” he asked casually, barely lifting his gaze. “Finished with the ceremony preparations?”

“Pretty much,” Liora replied, her voice soft but detached.

Tomorrow, she would leave this den—and this territory—behind for good.

Kaelen chuckled lightly, almost to himself. “I remember you always wanted to ride the Ferris wheel. I’ll take you one day, make it unforgettable. I didn’t mean to interrupt your fun today, but my mother… she wants to see you.”

“It’s fine,” Liora said. “There will be plenty of time later.”

Her lifetime of wishes would be ticked off one by one, none of them tied to him.

Once Kaelen finished his messages, he started the car, and, as if unaware of the impact, played one of Marcella’s favorite songs. Liora’s gaze drifted to the familiar streets outside, the city she had grown up in. Neon signs flickered in harmony with the starlit sky, the lights dancing like silver and gold sparks across the dark canopy.

Yet the longer she looked, the more the wind stung her eyes, leaving them raw and damp.

By the time they arrived at the old family home, the dining table was already cluttered with leftovers. The housekeeper moved between dishes, quietly clearing the remnants of the day. Laughter and conversation floated through the den as parents from both sides mingled freely. Kaelen and Marcella sat at the center, their camaraderie effortless, filling the space with warmth that no longer included Liora.

She felt like a ghost in the room. Her form flickered in Kaelen’s peripheral vision, a lone silhouette he barely registered. Yet somewhere deep in his chest, a pulse skipped—a memory surfacing, fragile and sharp.

A promise he had made long ago, one he had vowed to never break: to shield this little she-wolf from sorrow, to never let her feel abandoned. A promise now resurrected, though far too late.