I watched Deacon take care of this she-wolf while hiding behind a pillar. He hadn’t been to a single prenatal check-up with me this entire pregnancy, always claiming he was “too busy with pack duties.” But here he was, darting around the hospital, picking up medication, helping another woman in and out of appointments—like the perfect mate.

At that moment, I realized it wasn’t that he was busy. He just didn’t want to make the effort for the mate he’d been bound to for seven years.

Deacon held her close in the bustling hospital lobby, his voice gentle as he reminded her, “The doctor said you need to eat less tonight and stay active. Early pregnancy digestion can be tough, so let’s try to follow their advice this time, okay?”

“Aww, fine,” she replied with a playful pout. “But it’s your fault! You got me all those desserts!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll take the blame,” he said, smiling as he brushed a stray lock of her hair back. “It’s all on me for making my sweetheart eat too much, okay?”

“That’s better.” She smirked and tugged at his arm. “Fine, I’ll forgive you... this time.”

They were so casual, like a true mated pair, their bond seemed inseparable as they stood there laughing together. Watching them, I felt like a stranger in my own life, invisible under the harsh, cold lights of the hospital.

With a heavy heart, I cradled my belly and turned to leave. Outside, the rain had started up, falling in cold sheets against the pavement. The chill autumn wind whipped around me, stinging against my face. As I stepped out into the rain, I witnessed Deacon draping his coat over his lover's shoulders, shielding her from the downpour as he helped her into the passenger seat.

She grinned up at him, grabbing his tie to pull him in for a kiss. He leaned down and kissed her deeply, standing there with the rain coming down on them both. When they finally pulled apart, Deacon tapped her nose playfully. Tara tugged on his tie again in retaliation, biting his lip just a little too hard.

I thought Deacon would blow up at her because he never liked that kind of needy gesture when I did it, but Deacon just smiled, looking pleased. He climbed into the car, looking like the very picture of bliss, as if this was all perfectly natural for him. Just before the car pulled away, Tara rolled down her window, locking eyes with mine.

She smirked at me, with smugness as if to say, “Annette, you’ve lost.”

I felt a strange calm settle over me. I shook my head slowly. “It’s okay, Annette,” I whispered to myself. “He’s just a man, nothing more.”

As the car turned the corner, I raised my hand in a wave, as if bidding farewell to a ghost. “Deacon, I don’t want you anymore. You’re hers now.”

With that decision, standing alone under the hospital awning, I pulled out my phone. Calmly, I sent every piece of evidence I’d gathered to my friend, a respected lawyer known throughout the anthropomorphic society for her prowess in securing ironclad dissolution deals. I was going to carve out the best future I could for my child, no matter what.

By the time I finished, the rain had soaked the hem of my dress. But I barely noticed. Just as I slipped my phone back into my bag, it rang. It was Mom.

“Annette! Dean texted me so I made some soup for you and brought it to the house. Where are you and Dean? Why's nobody home?” Her voice was warm, full of love and concern.

Before I could answer, she kept going, “Oh, that Dean! You’re this far along, and he’s still taking you out? You really need to take it easy now. What if you ran into an accident?”

Hearing her voice felt like a punch to the chest. All the pain, the anger, everything I’d been holding back, threatened to spill over, tightening in my chest. I bit down on my lip, fighting the sob rising in my throat. My body shivered from holding it all in.

I forced a smile, even though she couldn’t see it. “Don’t worry, Mom,” I managed. “I was craving for something so Dean took me out.” I swallowed hard, struggling to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, we’re being careful. Dean’s right here with me.”

I couldn’t let her hear me cry. I had to keep it together.

“It’s raining, Mom,” I added, “so drive home safely, okay? Text me when you get there.”

I ended the call quickly before my voice could crack. As soon as the line went silent, I let out a shaky breath, and the tears started falling. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t hold them back anymore.

I stood there, clutching my heavy belly as I cried alone in the pouring rain, surrounded by strangers bustling in and out of the hospital. And in that cold, indifferent world, I cried until I couldn’t cry, no more.

Deacon didn’t come home that night. Instead, he texted me like the mate I thought he was.

[Hey Annette, work's holding me back. I'll be crashing at the pack mansion tonight. It’s getting cold and rainy, so don’t forget to close the window before bed. Love you always, your husband.]

I stared at the message without a single flicker of emotion. In the past, I would’ve worried and responded like the caring wife I was, maybe even stayed up late waiting for him. Now, I didn’t even feel the need to reply. I’d once thought I was the happiest woman in the world because I had the best mate, but reality had a brutal way of setting in. All that love I thought we had—it had just been a ridiculous facade—An illusion I chose to believe because I got too complacent and put my faith in our imprint.

A few days later, the imprinting dissolution papers arrived from my lawyer. I printed and signed them without a second thought, and started packing to move back to my mom’s place. Since he didn't like coming home to me, he'd return to an empty house.

Just as I was sealing the last box, my phone rang, displaying an unknown number.

It was Tara.

The demoness asked me out, and we met at a diner in the neutral zone. She arrived with airy confidence, parading a four-inch stilettos while carrying heavy shopping bags, and plopped across from me with a smug smile, her supposedly three-month-long baby bump pressing against the table with no concern.

She seemed to believe she had won—as if I'd let her get one up on me.

Her overwhelming perfume though, I think I'd faint If I breathed in it for too long.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” she began, her voice thick with triumph. “After all, you never replied to my messages.”

I stayed calm, my heart steady. “Why wouldn’t I come? I haven’t done anything shameful to hide from,” I replied, leaning back with a small smile. “Unlike some people who, no matter how hard they try, will always be the third wheel.”

“You—!” Her face darkened, but I cut her off before she could say more.

“Oh, thanks, by the way,” I said smoothly. “For sending all that evidence of your little affair with Deacon. Made collecting it a lot easier than doing it on my own."

She glared, her fingers clutching the edge of the table. "This coffee's on me. So, don't bother me again." I placed some cash under my coffee cup and stood up.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, her voice laced with tension, grabbing my arm as I turned to leave.

“Are you that slow?" I gently freed myself. "It means I don’t want him anymore. If you want him, he’s all yours.”

Her face twisted with anger. “What game are you playing now? Don’t think I’m falling for this act!”

“What part of he’s all yours can’t you understand? Why are you obsessed with winning over me, do you have a weird kink?” I mocked, which I shouldn’t have done.

Tara shoved me in a burst of anger. I lost my footing and stumbled backward, hitting the floor hard. Suddenly, a sharp, unbearable pain sliced through my hip encircling my belly. My body convulsed, and I felt something wet and warm pouring down my legs. Blood.

Panic took over, and I screamed, “Please, save my baby!”

In my shock and pain, I barely noticed Tara fleeing. The diner staff rushed over, and one of them called an ambulance. By the time the paramedics arrived, my dress was drenched in blood. They loaded me onto the stretcher, and as I began slipping in and out of consciousness, a nurse asked for my phone password. I unlocked it and watched as she dialed my husband's emergency contact.

She called six times before he finally picked up.

I could barely make out his words through the fog of pain and the steady beep of hospital machines. “Annette, I have a lot pack-business to deal with,” he said sharply, his voice irritated. “We’re having an important meeting. I’ll call you back later, okay? Be good.”

The line went dead, but I heard Tara’s voice in the background, clear as day. She sure got to him so fast. I miserably laughed at myself.

Turning away from the nurse’s pitying gaze, I took my phone from her with a trembling hand and dialed my mom. I knew I had to sound calm, but it was tough the second I heard her voice.

“Mom,” I said, forcing the words out. “I… I’m going into labor.”

“What?” She was alarmed, sensing all she had to know through my silence, and she quickly calmed her voice. “Don’t worry, honey. Just breathe okay? Mom will come to you, okay?”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll be fine,” I whispered, trying to assure both of us.

Then, a powerful contraction hit me like a lance, and I couldn’t hold back my scream. I broke out in cold sweat, trembling as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

With what little strength I had left, I gripped the doctor’s hand, my voice a desperate whisper. “Please, save my baby.”

Everything else in the world faded to nothing.

I couldn’t lose my child. Not now. Not again.