I pulled my cloak tightly around me as I made my way home from the healer's den. Two moon cycles had passed since I lost my unborn pup during a lone wolf attack in the forest—an attack I had brought upon myself by offering help. Ronan, my mate, had promised to accompany me for this checkup.

Initially, he kept his word, but he stayed only for a while. As the healer began examining my womb, Ronan made a hurried excuse to leave and departed soon after.

I watched him go, his figure vanishing into the night, and for the first time, I felt… nothing. His presence or absence no longer affected me. I realized I wasn't as sad anymore when he wasn't around.

As I quietly received the medicine the healer had prescribed, a soft nudge of consciousness brushed against my mind—it was Ronan, reaching out through our mind link. "Nyra, you can make your way back, can't you? I have other matters to attend to."

In the past, I would have begged him to come for me, saying something like, "But I need you to come get me."

But now, it seemed pointless. My heart, worn thin by countless disappointments, no longer had the strength to respond. I let his words fade unanswered and began the solitary walk back to our home at the edge of the village.

As I passed through the winding paths, a familiar scent stopped me in my tracks. It was Ronan's scent. My eyes followed it to her door—her home.

Jasmine Bane. His childhood sweetheart.

Ronan had told me he couldn't escort me back, yet here he was, inside another she-wolf's den.

Jasmine had left our pack years ago to pursue a bond with an outsider. No one had heard from her until she returned last year, bondless and with a three-year-old pup. Rumors said she had failed to unite with her mate, her life derailing from what she had planned. And so, she had come back.

In Ronan's eyes, I had always been nothing more than a stand-in, a replacement for Jasmine after she left. Still, I had been foolish, hopelessly in love, clinging to the idea that his affection might one day be mine alone.

I was wrong.

At one point, I had even wished to give Ronan a child, believing it would bind us in ways words and promises could not. If not for the attack and the loss of our child, I wouldn't have awakened to the truth. I now understand that bringing a child into this fractured bond would only cause more pain—for both the baby and me.

The night settled around me as I entered our quiet home. The hearth crackled faintly, its warmth doing little to chase away the coldness in my heart. I took the medicine the healer had given me, my hand resting absently over my empty womb. The hollowness inside me was suffocating, but exhaustion eventually pulled me into sleep.

The creak of the door stirred me awake. Ronan entered quietly, his presence filling the room. He moved to my side and gently brushed his hand over my hair. A subtle floral scent clung to him—a scent that wasn't mine.

"What did the healer say today?" He asked softly, his voice feigning the tenderness of a caring mate.

I pulled away, letting his hand fall, and forced myself to respond. "Nothing of importance," I said, a hollow smile stretching across my lips. "All is well."

Ronan hesitated, his gaze shifting uncomfortably. He knew. Of course, he knew.

Finally, he muttered, "There was an emergency. I had to step away. You know my duties to the pack demand my time."

His excuse, as soft and practiced as it sounded, carried no truth. But I didn't have the energy to confront him. What would be the point? Instead, I rolled over, turning my back to him.

"Perhaps a wash in the river would help ease your weariness," I murmured. The words were calm, but their meaning was unmistakable.

Ronan paused for a moment, his silence heavy with unspoken truths. Then, I heard the soft rustle of his steps as he moved away. The door clicked shut behind him, and the stillness returned. I closed my eyes again, this time allowing the cold, hard truth to settle within me.

It was time to end this soon.

I usually deal with foraging tasks, but due to my injury, I was temporarily assigned to assist the village healer with drying and grinding medicine. I had started my tasks early that morning at the healer's hut.

Later that morning, I received a bond-link call from Ronan. His voice, groggy from sleep, carried a subtle annoyance. "Nyra, why didn't you wake me up? You left early without telling me, and I overslept. You know I'm on patrol duty this week."

Once, I had cared for him in every way imaginable, even more so after our marriage. I laid out his clothes, prepared his breakfast with love, and gently woke him each morning — a routine I had followed with devotion.

Now, his tone suggested he took those acts of love for granted. It was as though my care had become an unspoken obligation, a chore he simply expected me to perform.

But I wasn't his caretaker. I was his wife. And as his wife, I had the right to refuse.

"Well, since you're running late, you'd better get up soon," I replied calmly.

He pressed further. "What am I going to wear today?"

"Just pick whatever you want. Everything's in the closet," I answered, keeping my voice neutral.

"But I can't find it..." Ronan began to protest.

The old healer called for my help, so I quickly said, "I have something else to attend to. I need to go. Just find your clothes yourself."

Barely a moment passed before I heard Ronan's voice in my head again, sharper this time and laced with irritation. "I found my hide still unwashed, and the one in the closet isn't suitable for patrols. Didn't I tell you to prepare it beforehand?"

His complaints didn't stop there. Another message followed shortly after. "You haven't prepared breakfast either?"

Just then, the village chief called me over, his voice booming with authority. "Nyra, good news!" he announced. "After assessing the application you sent, it seems the elders wish to discuss your training as a lead forager. Oh, and it looks like you've made a full recovery from your injuries."

I had once planned to dedicate my life to Ronan — marry him, bear his pups, and create a family together. I had even declined the elders' offer to join another pack to gain experience, back when I thought building a life with him was all I needed. But now, the allure of those dreams has faded.

Staying by Ronan's side felt not just meaningless but outright foolish.

"I've thought about it, chief. I'll go," I said, my voice steadier than before, laced with newfound determination.

"Excellent choice!" His grin widened, his approval radiating like sunlight piercing through a dense forest. "Prepare yourself, and I'll let you know once the date for your journey is confirmed."

His enthusiasm was almost contagious, but this time, it wasn't his pride I cared about—it was mine. This wasn't just a chance for increasing my rank. It was my first step toward reclaiming a future that was truly my own.

The evening crept in unnoticed as I buried myself in grinding and mixing herbs for the healer. Before I realized it, the skies outside the hut had darkened into twilight. Just as I reached for another bundle of roots, Ronan appeared at the doorway, his expression taut.

"Why are you still here? Why haven't you come home? Where's dinner?"

A wave of distaste washed over me at the thought of returning to him, to the suffocating weight of his expectations. That was why I had stayed in the healer's hut, prolonging my tasks well past sundown.

"The healer needed help with something urgent, but his usual assistant isn't around, so I decided to cover for them. If you're hungry, you'll have to hunt or scavenge for yourself tonight," I replied, my tone calm but detached.

Ronan blinked, surprised. "Scavenge? Really?"

Once, the thought of him eating anything other than my cooking would have been unthinkable. I had poured my heart into every meal, feeding him with love three times a day. Yet, more often than not, he dismissed my efforts, criticizing the taste or complaining over trivial details.

"Is something wrong with that?" I asked, not bothering to hide the indifference in my voice.

He paused, then said hesitantly, "No. Just… I will wait for you to finish and come home together."

"It's okay. You can go ahead," I replied flatly, my gaze never lifted from the herbs I was sorting.

Ronan lingered, silent for a moment, then asked, "Nyra, are you upset with me?"

The question—late and utterly out of place—only stirred a faint flicker of resentment. But beneath it lay something colder: disappointment. Did he truly not see, or did he simply not care? It didn't matter anymore. Anger felt like too much effort to spare on him.

Instead, a sharp, sudden clarity struck me. I turned to him, my voice low but cutting.

"Why don't you stay at Jasmine's tonight instead?"

In a tone heavy with apology, Ronan took the initiative to explain, "Nyra, it's not easy for Jasmine to raise her pup alone. She doesn't know anyone else here. She only has me."

His words struck like a blow, sharp and unrelenting. How easily he seemed to forget that I, too, sometimes only had him.

"Of course, I understand. She must've been through a lot," I replied evenly, keeping my voice calm.

But my calmness must have sounded biting to his ears because his temper flared almost instantly.

"Nyra, what's that supposed to mean? What's with your attitude?"

"I said I understand," I repeated, my voice losing its earlier lightness. "Is that a problem?"

"Do you have to talk to me like that?" he snapped.

Frustration seeped into my tone as I countered, "Then what do you want me to say?"

His retort came sharp and defensive. "Stop being so jealous! We're just friends. Can't you understand that?"

I let out a bitter scoff, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Sure. Friends you'd rather accompany than your own mate to the healer."

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, like the air before a storm. Finally, he mumbled, defeated, "Just finish this task quickly, and we'll leave."

The irony was not lost on me. He once called me annoying for questioning his visits to Jasmine. When I reached out, asking when he'd be back from her den, I was also the annoying one. Now, even trying to understand him seemed to be grounds for his frustration.

With a heavy sigh, I tossed aside the herbal poultice I had been working on. There was no point dwelling on it, nothing I said or did would change anything.

Instead, I focused on my tasks, sorting and grinding the herbs on the desk in front of me. When the night shift ended, I deliberately lingered, taking my time to clean up the workspace. The thought of returning home held no appeal.

But I knew I had to. Asking the village healer for a place to stay would be shameless. Gathering my belongings, I started the trek back, deliberately ignoring Ronan.

He was furious—and hungry, no less—which only added to his temper. As his frustration boiled over, he kicked at a nearby tree to vent his anger. Unluckily for him, the disturbance roused a snake coiled in the branches. Without hesitation, it struck, sinking its fangs into his calf.

Ronan let out a strangled yell, grabbing the snake and flinging it into the bushes, where it quickly slithered away.

"Nyra," he called, his voice tight with pain, "I've been bitten by a snake! It's bleeding. Come check it out!"

I halted my steps, casting a disinterested glance over my shoulder.

"It's not venomous," I said flatly.

He limped closer, his disbelief evident. "How can you tell just by looking at it?"

Sighing, I crouched down to examine the bite more closely. I recognized the snake, it was a harmless species I'd seen many times before. Rising to my feet, I dusted off my knees.

"It's just a bite," I said. "Let it bleed out and it'll be fine. There's no need to waste medicine."

His expression twisted, a mix of frustration and hurt. "What do you mean?" he demanded. "Nyra, why don't you care anymore? You used to fuss over me when I was sick, making porridge, giving me medicine."

That was the old me. I remembered it all too well. But those days felt like a distant memory now, belonging to someone else entirely.

Once, Ronan had a stomachache, so I requested leave from my duties to bring him medicine to the pack hall. Unfortunately, rain caught me on the way, leaving my fur and clothes drenched, a dripping mess by the time I arrived.

But the day only worsened. His packmates chuckled at my soaked appearance, their laughter echoing through the hall. Ronan didn't so much as defend me amd instead, he joined in their amusement. To add insult to injury, he scolded me after, saying, "Don't ever come here again. You're an embarrassment."

Now, as Ronan stood before me, his irritation clear, I couldn't help but remember that moment.

"You look perfectly fine," I said, my tone clipped. "And you don't seem to be in any pain. We might be out of medicine, though, so you'll probably have to fetch some yourself."

I turned away, rolling my eyes out of his sight.

Ronan's jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling over. He grabbed my arm, his voice a harsh growl. "Nyra, how long are you going to punish me over Jasmine? I told you, there's nothing between us!"

"Oh, okay," I replied. My voice is steady, almost bored, a sharp contrast to his escalating anger.

My indifference only stoked the fire further. He let out a frustrated snarl, releasing my arm before storming off. I didn't need to ask where he was going. I already knew.