I began packing at dawn, sorting through years of memories and belongings with a newfound clarity.
Though Lorenz and I had separate dens, we shared a closet—one I had once meticulously stocked with his tunics, his belts, his every possession. It had been my daily ritual, preparing his things, a small way to maintain peace in a marriage that had always been distant. But now, it was time to release it all.
As I folded my own clothes, my gaze fell on the gifts I had given him over the years—birthdays, anniversaries, full moons, celebrations of every kind. Each lay untouched, still wrapped or tucked away as though meaningless.
My chest tightened. I had poured thought and care into each present, hoping they might remind him that I had once tried to be a devoted mate. But instead, they would go to someone who might truly value them. I bundled them for donation, a small act of reclaiming my power.
Alongside those, I left behind every token Lorenz had ever given me—jewelry, trinkets, garments meant to silence me or keep me in place. I only packed what I had earned with my own labor: the modest yet steady earnings from selling my paintings.
When the donation box was ready, I loaded it into the car and set off for the orphan den where I had grown up. On the way, I stopped at a small market and grabbed some treats for the children—no matter how far I went, they would always be a piece of my heart.
Upon arriving, the woman who had raised me, my mother in all but blood, greeted me with open arms. We settled into a quiet corner, speaking like mother and daughter.
After a pause, I exhaled and shared my plans.
“I’m going to Italy to continue my studies,” I said, a small, determined smile on my lips. Her eyes lit up, and she grasped my hands warmly.
“Oh, Toni! I knew you were destined for greatness,” she said. “You deserve every bit of happiness coming your way.”
Her words soothed the knot in my chest, giving me the courage to continue. “I’m also… I’m divorcing Lorenz.”
Her expression fell, concern flashing across her features. She had known me long enough to see the kindness in my heart and perhaps hoped my marriage might provide me the family I had never truly had.
As I explained the reasons, her face softened. “Sometimes letting go is the bravest act,” she murmured, patting my hands. “You have to walk your own path, Toni.”
I nodded, embracing her tightly. “Thank you.”
Evening came, and I drove home at a leisurely pace along the quiet roads. There was no urgency to return, no pressure to be on time for dinner, no fear of Lorenz’s displeasure. In the past, I would have pushed the car past every limit, ensuring I arrived precisely when he demanded, for the ritual of shared meals—breakfast and dinner—was one of the few rules he enforced.
I never understood why he clung to those routines when there was no love, no connection. Perhaps it was for show, proof to the pack and staff that we were a “proper couple,” though we lived apart, slept apart, existed apart.
But when I entered the manor, I was met with a sight that made my chest tighten.
Gritte, Lorenz’s younger sister, lounged on the couch with Emily, shopping bags from high-end boutiques piled around them.
“Oh, you’re finally back, Toni,” Gritte sneered, her tone dripping with entitlement. “Why so late? We’re hungry. The chef didn’t come. Go cook for us.”
Her words stung, a reminder of all the thankless service I had rendered for them. Emily avoided my eyes, fussing over a new handbag as though I weren’t even there.
Lorenz appeared from the hallway, as if materializing from the shadows. “No need to worry about cooking tonight. We’ll eat out,” he announced, his voice softening instantly when he glanced at Emily. “What do you feel like, Lily?”
Her face brightened. “Steak! Can we go to our favorite place? The one from college?”
Without hesitation, he grabbed the keys. Watching them together, so at ease, I slipped toward the door, hoping to avoid witnessing this little reunion.
Lorenz’s voice cut through the space, sharp and commanding. “Come with us. You must be hungry, too.”
I hesitated, keeping my tone steady. “No, thanks. I’m not.”
“That wasn’t a question, Toni,” he said, his voice darker now, laced with irritation.
I exhaled, the weight of his presence pressing down, and relented. “Fine,” I murmured.
In the car, Lorenz and Emily sat up front, laughing, sharing memories, while I was pushed to the back with Gritte. She kept as much distance as possible, treating me like a stranger.
The city blurred past the window as they reminisced, their comfort and connection stabbing at my chest.
When we arrived at the restaurant, my stomach twisted at bitter recognition. The same steakhouse Lorenz had taken me to countless times, a place I once thought was ours—it had always belonged to him and Emily.
Everything I had believed about us had been an illusion.
