Leaving the pack’s training grounds, Lilia wandered through the forested paths where she and Dax used to meet as pups. These familiar trails now felt foreign, as if the trees themselves whispered of a past she no longer belonged to. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the path, before she finally turned toward the packhouse.
As she pushed open the heavy wooden door, Buddy bounded toward her, his tail wagging furiously. Lilia’s heart warmed despite the heaviness in her chest. She knelt to unlace her boots, scratching the wolf companion behind the ears. “Missed me, huh?” she murmured softly.
A soft scoff from the living room drew her attention. She looked up to see Dax and Viviana standing side by side. Dax, still wearing an apron splattered with sauce, raised an eyebrow casually. “Where have you been, Lilia? The sun’s nearly set.”
She ignored his question, her gaze shifting to Viviana. The Gamma stood with a faint smile, her eyes lingering on Lilia for a moment before she crouched down and called Buddy over with a soft, coaxing voice. “Buddy, come here, boy.”
Buddy turned instantly, trotting over to Viviana, who wrapped her arms around him, scratching his neck. She didn’t bother to acknowledge Lilia, who stood frozen at the doorway, feeling like an intruder in her own home.
After an awkward silence, Dax seemed to notice the tension. He slapped his forehead, as if remembering something. “Right, I should introduce you. Viviana, this is Lilia. Lilia, Viviana. She’s my best friend from high school. Just got back from her pack up north.”
Lilia’s chest tightened. She and Dax had grown up together, inseparable since they were pups. The three years of high school were the only time they hadn’t been in the same pack. And during that time, Dax had found someone to fill the space she thought was hers. Perfect.
Viviana nudged Dax playfully, her voice light but laced with authority. “Alpha, why don’t you help Lilia with her boots and bag? Where’s your sense when you need it?”
Dax chuckled, the sound warm but distant, and moved to do as she suggested. Watching him fumble with her bag, Lilia felt a pang of sadness. When had he ever been this attentive to her?
“Enough grinning, Alpha,” Viviana called over her shoulder, her tone teasing but firm. “Check the stove before you burn dinner.” Dax obediently trotted off toward the kitchen.
Lilia stood rooted in place, unsure of where she fit in this new dynamic. Viviana approached her, linking their arms together as if they were old friends. “I’m three days older than the Alpha, so I like to act like the big sister,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You don’t need to be formal; call me Viviana, like he does. The Alpha can be scatterbrained sometimes. If he ever messes up, just let me know, and I’ll set him straight.”
Her words were friendly, but the underlying assertion of dominance was clear. Lilia forced a smile and nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
This was the first time Dax had ever cooked for her. In the four years they’d been together, she hadn’t even tasted canned soup prepared by him. Yet here he was, effortlessly whipping up Viviana’s favorite dishes. The sight made Lilia’s stomach twist. She couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if they were mates instead of her.
After dinner, Lilia retreated to the kitchen to clean up. Dax stayed in the living room with Viviana, their laughter carrying through the house as they watched a comedy show. The sound was cheerful, but to Lilia, it felt like a dull ache in her chest. She didn’t know how long she spent scrubbing dishes, but when she finally stepped out, they were both gone.
The living room was a mess—apple peels scattered on the floor, potato chip crumbs coating the couch. Lilia tidied up silently, her movements mechanical. As she bent to gather the trash, her eyes caught on the small potted plant she’d cared for over the past four years, now resting in the garbage bin.
It had been the only gift Dax had ever given her, back when they’d first started dating. A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she tied up the trash bag and tossed it away. The plant was dead now, just like whatever bond they’d once shared.
