Ever since Harvey and I became mates, I had baked his birthday cake every single year with my own hands. No bakery orders, no pack chefs, no shortcuts. I mixed the batter myself, watched it rise, waited by the oven like a ritual guardian. It had become a habit so ingrained that I never once stopped to ask whether he noticed the effort or simply took it for granted.
This year was no different—except it wasn’t for him anymore.
The moment my eyes drifted to the glowing screen of his phone, resting casually in his palm, I already knew who the cake was meant for. I didn’t need to read the name. I recognized the little cartoon wolf avatar instantly. I’d seen it too many times by accident, flashing across his screen when he thought I wasn’t looking.
Sofia.
I said nothing. The living room of our den fell unnaturally quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against the ears. Even the low hum of the air purifier felt too loud.
Harvey didn’t notice. Or maybe he didn’t care enough to notice.
He looked up at me with the same calm, expectant expression he always wore when he asked something of me—already assuming my agreement. As if my consent had never been optional in the first place.
I stared at him for a long second. Then I nodded.
“Send me the photo reference,” I said evenly, pushing myself up from the couch. “I’ll head out to buy the ingredients.”
There was no surprise on his face. No hesitation. He simply forwarded the image, his attention already drifting elsewhere.
As I slipped on my shoes, a memory surfaced uninvited.
Seven years ago, at a welcome dinner for new city pack recruits, I learned how dangerous being young and unmated could be. It was my first job after joining, and a client decided I was easy prey—cornering me with smiles that didn’t reach his eyes, his words slipping from polite to threatening while the crowd looked the other way. I was already planning my escape when the air shifted.
Harvey walked in.
He didn’t shout or make a scene. He simply stepped between us, his Alpha presence cutting through the noise like a blade. The man backed off instantly, all his courage draining away. I remember standing there, heart hammering, realizing I’d just been saved.
If Harvey hadn’t come when he did, I wouldn’t have left that dinner unscathed.
That night had been the beginning of everything.
I paused by the door and glanced back at him one last time.
Once this cake is finished, I thought quietly, I’ll finally be done with him.
The door closed behind me with a soft click, but the weight in my chest followed me all the way down.
Inside the elevator, I leaned against the wall and pulled out my phone. My thumb hovered before opening our message history. I hadn’t looked at it properly in years.
The number at the top made me exhale a hollow laugh.
5,363 messages.
That was how many times I’d texted him—updates, questions, worries, mundane details of my life I’d once believed a mate should share.
He’d replied to twenty-five.
The realization didn’t hurt anymore. Caring had exhausted itself somewhere along the way. All that was left was a dull, distant amusement.
I imagined Harvey upstairs, frowning when his phone buzzed with the notification that the transfer he’d sent for the ingredients had been rejected. I could almost see his fingers tightening around the device, irritation flickering across his face as he wondered why.
That evening, a little past eight, my phone rang.
His name lit up the screen.
“Where are you?” Harvey asked. His voice carried something unfamiliar—hesitation, maybe even concern.
I was seated in a booth at a small diner near my apartment, absently poking at food I had no appetite for. “What’s wrong?” I asked instead, sidestepping his question.
“Nothing,” he replied after a pause. His tone softened. “I just wanted to tell you… the cake tasted great. Same as always.”
Silence stretched between us.
Then, quieter, “Thanks. I know it must’ve taken a lot of work.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but another voice cut in before I could.
“Liora!”
Sofia’s voice was bright and sugary, loud enough to carry clearly through the phone. “Harvey told me you baked my birthday cake today. That’s amazing! You’re seriously so talented.”
Her laughter followed, light and carefree. “I could never do something like that. I’m way too clumsy. Harvey’s always teasing me, calling me his silly little wolf.”
I could picture her expression perfectly—slightly pouting, eyes wide, leaning just close enough to him.
She invited me to the party before I could react.
But Harvey interrupted her almost immediately. “You don’t need to come,” he said, firmer now.
The line went dead.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed again.
A pinned location appeared, followed by a message.
[If you do stop by, grab tomato-flavored chips for Sofia from the convenience store.]
I stared at the screen for a long moment before letting out a quiet, humorless laugh.
When I pushed open the door to the private room, I spotted Harvey instantly. He was seated beside Sofia, holding a fork. He fed her a bite of cake while she looked up at him with wide, shining eyes, like he was the center of her world.
The moment he noticed me, his expression shifted.
Annoyance darkened his gaze.
Why did you come?
