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?"
