When I fainted one night from dizziness, Carson rushed me to the infirmary. I thought, for a brief moment, I still mattered. But the next morning, when Alice called saying she couldn’t sleep, he left my bedside to sit with her until dawn.
The whispers in the pack grew louder. Wolves looked at me with pity I couldn’t bear. “Our Luna is abandoned,” they murmured. “The Alpha has returned to his first love.”
I tried to confront him. “Carson, I’m carrying your pup. I need you.” But he brushed me off. “Alice has no one else. She’s fragile, she needs me more than you do.”
Fragile. That word haunted me. Was I not fragile too? I bore the weight of our heir inside me, yet somehow, my suffering meant nothing.
I swallowed every insult, every humiliation, hoping—praying—that once our pup arrived, Carson would wake up. That he would finally see me again. But tonight, after hearing him promise Alice that he would sever our mate bond, I knew those prayers were wasted.
I had been fighting for a marriage that no longer existed. Carson had chosen Alice, and there was no place left for me in his heart.
As the pup shifted inside me, I whispered silently, Don’t worry, little one. You won’t grow up watching your mother beg for scraps of love. I will protect you, even if I have to walk away from everything.
That night, my decision crystallized. I would leave. Not tomorrow, not yet. But soon. Quietly, without warning, I would disappear from Carson’s life.