The pack apartment was swallowed in darkness when I returned. No lamps glowing. No welcoming heat. Just thick, unmoving air and the sour, decaying scent of something forgotten in the sink. I didn’t bother searching for the switch. I let my bag slide from my shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud, then shut the door behind me with my heel. The echo felt too loud in the stillness, like the walls were listening.
I didn’t change out of my clothes. The hospital gown was still clinging beneath my hoodie, thin fabric brushing against the fresh wrappings around my ribs. I didn’t care. My body moved on autopilot until I reached the couch, then gave out completely. I fell forward, facedown, arms hanging uselessly over the edge as if my bones had turned to water. The bandages pulled against my skin, stinging, but fatigue crushed the pain into something distant and tolerable.
Sleep took me without mercy.
And sleep, as always, was cruel. Because dreams never lie—not when the heart is still too afraid to speak the truth aloud.
I don’t know how long passed. Hours, maybe. I woke with my throat dry and my limbs heavy, blinking against the dark as my senses slowly sharpened.
Then I heard it.
Metal striking metal.
Soft at first. Then clear.
The unmistakable sound of cooking.
I pushed myself upright with effort, my body cold and aching as if I’d been abandoned in the snow. Bare feet met the floor and carried me toward the noise. For a second, I wondered if I was still dreaming—if the TV had somehow turned on by itself, or if someone had broken in. But when I rounded the corner into the kitchen, reality stood waiting.
Asher was at the stove.
The Alpha of our pack moved with familiar authority even in something as ordinary as cooking, his broad shoulders relaxed as he flipped a steak in a sizzling pan. The scent of seared meat filled the air. Kieran stood nearby at the counter, slicing vegetables with quiet precision, every movement neat and controlled. The dining table was already prepared—plates aligned, cutlery placed perfectly, glasses waiting. Even the napkins were folded.
Like I had never left.
Like nothing had happened.
Both of them looked up when they noticed me standing there.
Asher spoke first, his voice casual, almost puzzled. “We thought you were staying at your aunt’s place,” he said, as if that explained why they were acting like this was just another ordinary night. “Didn’t want to wake you if you were resting.”
Kieran’s grip tightened slightly around the knife. His gaze flicked to the floor, then back to me. “We… didn’t know you were hospitalized,” he murmured.
I said nothing.
I simply walked past them and took a seat at the table. I didn’t reach for the food.
Asher frowned, turned off the burner, and set the pan aside. “You need to eat,” he said. “You just got out of the infirmary.”
That was when I finally lifted my eyes to him.
My voice was steady. Emotionless. “You didn’t come looking for me for an entire week.”
The silence that followed felt violent.
Even the air seemed to freeze, thick enough to choke on. No one moved. No one spoke.
Then the doorbell rang.
Both of them turned instantly.
Kieran moved first.
When he opened the door, Veyla stood there beneath the dim hallway light.
She looked small and breakable, wrapped in soft fabric, her wrists hidden beneath delicate sleeves where fresh white bandages peeked through. Her skin was pale, her eyes wide and glassy, like a porcelain doll that had been cracked but not completely shattered yet.
The moment they saw her, everything changed.
Asher crossed the room in two quick strides and lifted her into his arms like she weighed nothing at all. He carried her inside and placed her gently on the couch, his forehead nearly touching hers as he brushed her hair back with shaking fingers. “You shouldn’t be walking around,” he said softly. “What if something happened to you?”
“I was alone in the hospital room,” she whispered, her voice trembling just enough to sound fragile. She looked up at him as if clinging to his soul. “I kept thinking… what if I never woke up again? What if I opened my eyes and no one was there this time? I got scared. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.”
Concern poured over his scent immediately.
He leaned closer, but she weakly lifted a hand. “If it’s too much trouble, I can go back,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not a burden,” Asher replied without hesitation. “You should’ve called earlier. We’ll take care of you.”
Kieran stood behind him, hesitant for only a moment before saying quietly, “We’ll return to the hospital after we check on Aurora. And then we’ll stay with you tonight.”
I never responded.
Instead, I reached for my fork and began to eat.
The steak was overcooked around the edges and still raw in the middle. Dry. Tough. Bitter. I hated the taste immediately—but I chewed anyway. Every bite felt like swallowing dust and regret and something dead. I forced it down because stopping would mean they’d notice.
He cooked steak.
The one thing I hated most.
They didn’t even remember.
A laugh left my throat before I could stop it—small, sharp, nearly silent. I washed it down with water. Across the room, Asher and Kieran were already pulling a chair for her, adjusting pillows behind her back, urging her to eat carefully, like she might shatter if she moved too fast. She accepted their attention without resistance. Every so often, her gaze flicked toward me.
And every glance said the same thing.
You lost.
My phone vibrated on the table.
I looked down.
Mom.
More than a dozen photos followed—wedding gowns in lace and satin, heavy with beading and stitched with dreams that no longer felt like mine. Grand trains. Flowing veils. I scrolled numbly until one stopped me. A soft off-the-shoulder satin dress with a cinched waist and layered ruffles.
Before I could second-guess myself, I called her.
She answered on the third ring, her voice warm with excitement. “Aurora, sweetheart, did you see the dresses? I think the third would suit you wonderfully. Though if your fiancé prefers—”
“I love it,” I cut in quickly, forcing brightness into every word. “The third one is perfect. I can already see myself in it. I’m really… excited.”
She went still for a moment. “Oh,” she said softly. “I’m so glad. I knew you’d find one you liked. You always had good taste for classic styles.”
I smiled even though she couldn’t see it. “Yeah. I think it’s beautiful. I’m really looking forward to my wedding.”
Across the room, movement stilled.
I didn’t look.
“How much longer will you be there?” she asked.
“Just one more week,” I replied. “Then I’ll come home.”
“That’s good. Everything here is almost ready.”
The call ended.
The moment I lowered my phone, I felt it.
That charged quiet.
Heavy. Watchful.
I lifted my head.
Asher and Kieran were staring at me. Veyla’s fork hung suspended halfway to her lips. Her expression was still soft, still fragile—but her eyes had sharpened.
Asher moved first.
His voice was low and dangerous. “Wedding?”
Kieran stepped beside him, tension tight in his frame. “What wedding?”
