The Anniversary the Luna Walked Away

I handed him to the nanny and drove away without looking back.

When I returned to the pack estate, exhaustion weighing on my bones, the first thing I saw was the moon-harp piano dumped on the lawn like scrap.

Inside, Ronan stood at the entrance, hauling several large travel trunks inside.

“Mother,” he said coolly, “Aunt Corinne will be staying within our territory for some time. She dislikes noise, so I cleared out your music chamber and turned it into a sculpting hall for her.”

I stared at him. In that moment, I understood—I no longer belonged. I was an eyesore, a remnant left behind, stubbornly occupying a place where I was no longer wanted.

That piano had been his eighth naming-day gift to me, bought with every coin he had saved that year.

He once sat beside me in the sunlight, laughing, fingers tapping the keys, clinging to my arm and saying he loved me most. That cub was gone.

Swallowing the ache, I forced a smile through the tears pressing at my eyes.

“So this is how you treat your mother now.”

Unease flickered across his face—brief, awkward—when soft footsteps sounded behind him.

Emric stepped into the yard with Corinne at his side. His gaze was as cold as Ronan’s as it landed on me.

“Corinne fears the dark. Your chamber receives the most sunlight. Move out and let her stay there.”

I lowered my eyes and nodded. “Alright. I’ll take my things and leave.”

They had expected protest, perhaps tears. My calm answer clearly startled him.

“Amarise—”

“Oh, Amarise, you’re far too kind,” Corinne interrupted with a sweet smile. “Let’s live in harmony during this time.”

I didn’t look back. I turned and went upstairs.

One by one, I dragged out heavy storage bags. Each held years of silence, endurance and unspoken sacrifice.

When I tossed thirty years of memories into the disposal wagon, Emric followed, his brow furrowed.

“Why are you throwing away so much?”

“Just things I’ll never need again.”

My tone unsettled him. He reached into a bag and froze.

“These… these are the things I gave you.”

I smiled faintly. “Things from decades ago should’ve been discarded long ago.”

Just like certain people.

His expression darkened. “You used to cherish them.”

I had. Anything from him once made my heart light, clutching it as if it were the world itself.

But forever was too long. A heart soaked in betrayal couldn’t bear it.

I brushed past him. “There’s someone new in this house now. You never liked crowded spaces, did you?”

He seemed about to explain that Corinne’s stay was temporary, but I was already loading the last of my belongings into the carriage.

He sighed. “There’s a banquet tonight. You haven’t attended one in years. Come along with Corinne.”

He hadn’t brought me to a formal gathering in a long time. Since I aged and gained weight, I no longer fit beside him.

At the banquet grounds, they stepped out first.

The host smiled brightly. “Alpha Blackspire, your Luna is as radiant as she was in her youth.”

Emric didn’t correct him. He simply took Corinne’s hand.

“Thank you.”

“And this lady is…?”

Only then did he glance my way. A brief pause—then indifference. “She’s our aide.”

I stood rooted in place. I had expected it, yet it still felt like my chest had been split open.

Holding back the burn in my eyes, I lifted my head and walked inside with the last of my dignity intact.

Corinne clung to Emric’s arm, swirling her wine as they moved through the noble packs with ease, every inch a bonded pair.

I stood apart, a shadow watching from the edge. The laughter, the splendor—none of it belonged to me.

Then, without warning, sharp agony tore through my injured right calf.