Days blurred together into an endless haze. After leaving, Ronan didn't return to the den for several nights, and I didn't bother asking where he was. On the third day, his voice brushed faintly against our bonded link.
"I'll be out on patrol for a few more days. Don't expect me back tonight."
"Stay safe," I replied, my tone devoid of warmth. A bitter chuckle slipped past my lips as I severed the connection.
With my injuries healed, I turned my attention back to work. Carrying a heavy basket strapped to my back, I joined my colleagues for a foraging trip. The pack's reserves were running low, so we ventured to the nearby meadow to restock.
As we trekked the familiar path, faint laughter floated through the trees. The sound guided my gaze to a wide, sunlit meadow where wildflowers stretched endlessly.
There, amidst the blooms, stood Ronan. He held a young pup in his arms, their laughter mingling in the air. They picked flowers, the child's giggles echoing his deep chuckles. Nearby, Jasmine handed them drinks, her voice soft and affectionate.
The scene looked picturesque, a perfect little family enjoying a serene day. My colleagues whispered amongst themselves, their glances darting between the "family of three" and me.
But I didn't care anymore. The fire of anger or sorrow had burned out long ago, leaving only hollow indifference. When Ronan might return ceased to matter. The question no longer lingered in my mind.
Later that evening, I stepped out of the pack healer's lodge to find Ronan unexpectedly waiting for me. His silhouette leaned casually against a post, holding a bouquet of flowers—wildflowers I'd seen him pick with Jasmine and her pup earlier.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, exhaustion weighing down my voice.
"Did you forget?" he said softly. "It's our bonding anniversary."
"Oh." My gaze dropped to the ground. "I've been busy. It must've slipped my mind."
Ronan's expression darkened, his disbelief palpable. "Nyra, you used to care about this more than anyone. How could you forget?"
Had I forgotten? No. I remembered every detail of past anniversaries—the carefully planned dinners, the thoughtful surprises. Yet, my efforts had often been dismissed as "too much" or "embarrassing." The memory of him pulling me aside during one celebration, whispering harshly, still stung.
Now, as he stood before me, searching for a spark of the old me, I couldn't summon the energy to pretend.
"Let's go have dinner," he said, his tone an attempt at levity.
I followed silently. He stole glances at me along the way, clearly uncomfortable with my indifference.
"Nyra, what's wrong?" he asked finally. "Are you upset?"
"No," I replied flatly.
"No?" he echoed, his voice rising in frustration. "Then why the attitude? Here I am, putting in the effort, picking you up for dinner. Can't you at least pretend to appreciate it?"
"I'm not angry, Ronan."
"Fine!" He let out a long sigh. "I promise, no more contact with Jasmine again, okay?"
I stared at him. Did he really think a simple gesture could erase months of lies and betrayal?
"Are you happy now?" he asked again.
I didn't answer and remained silent for the rest of the trip.
When we arrived at our den, it was decorated with flowers, a meal carefully laid out on the table. The scene was picturesque; the effort was clear.
Before I could say anything, Jasmine burst through the doorway, her voice frantic.
"Ronan!" She cried, ignoring my presence. "Kyle has a fever!"
"A fever?" Ronan's brow furrowed, worry etched on his face. "Do you have any medicine?" His concern was palpable until his gaze flickered toward me. Noticing my silent presence, he hesitated, swallowing his words. "I... I have plans today. I can't—"
"Please, Ronan!" Jasmine interrupted, desperation in her voice. "He's burning up, and it's so bad he's delirious. I don't know what to do!"
Ronan flinched, his posture stiffening as he glanced at me. His amber eyes carried guilt and unease.
"Nyra," he said hesitantly, "you see… her pup is sick. I need to—"
"It's fine," I interrupted, my voice cold. "Go. The pup's health is important."
He hesitated, torn between his obligation to her and me. "Wait for me," he murmured. "I'll be back soon."
With that, he grabbed his cloak, the faint scent of his familiar musk lingering in the air as he hurried out into the night.
Left alone, I stared at the untouched meal on the table, my appetite fading like the warmth of his presence. Sudden rain slammed against the windowpanes, echoing the tears I stubbornly refused to let fall.
With a deep sigh, I picked up my fork and ate in silence, finishing the meal alone in the hollow echo of the empty den.
