The Luna’s Rejection

Days blended into each other like the unending fog that wrapped our territory in a suffocating embrace. Lucian had been absent from our den for what felt like an eternity, and I didn’t bother to ask where he had gone.

On the third day, my phone buzzed to life with a message from him, casually informing me he was on a “mission for the pack” and sharing his location deep in the woods near the border.

[Stay safe,] I typed back, a dry laugh escaping my lips at the hollow sentiment.

Moments later, a notification lit up from the pack’s message board. Ivy had posted, [First break in forever. Never thought I’d miss honeyed berries. Someone insisted on picking them for me.]

Her post was accompanied by a photo showing Lucian’s hand, our binding ring still snugly in place on his finger. The location tagged in her post matched the one Lucian had sent me.

Suddenly, the ring on my own finger felt more like a shackle than a symbol of our bond, so I pulled it off and tossed it into a drawer, trying to silence the ache in my chest. Work became my escape, an ever-present refuge that kept me too busy to dwell on the gnawing emptiness left in Lucian’s absence. The question of when he would return faded into the background, buried beneath the weight of responsibilities.

Then, unexpectedly, he showed up one evening, leaning against his truck outside the clinic. His eyes held a hint of something—was it regret?

“Why are you here?” I asked, struggling to mask my surprise. The day had already drained me.

“Did you forget today is our mating ceremony anniversary?” he said, opening the passenger door for me as if it was a casual request.

“Oh,” I muttered, sliding into the seat, “sorry. I’ve been swamped. It slipped my mind.”

His frown deepened, disappointment flickering across his face as though my lack of enthusiasm had cut him. “Rowan, you used to care about these occasions. How could you forget?”

In the past, I had never let these days go unnoticed. Whether it was the anniversary of our bond or his birthday, I had orchestrated special celebrations—moonlit dinners, flowers adorning our den, and heartfelt gestures. Yet, each time, my efforts were brushed aside, dismissed as excessive or unimportant.

I recalled the time I arranged a surprise gathering in the heart of the forest, filled with laughter and joy. Lucian had turned to me, his expression flat, and said, “Rowan, you’re making a scene. It’s embarrassing in front of the pack.”

I had thought he’d appreciate the effort. Instead, he’d led me away, leaving me feeling like a fool, humiliated and unvalued. So now, I believed there was truly nothing left to celebrate.

“Let’s just have dinner,” he suggested, motioning for me to follow him toward a secluded cabin by the river that he’d reserved just for us.

The silence that enveloped us was oppressive, punctuated only by the soft murmur of the river flowing outside. I could feel his glances darting towards me, searching for any hint of the affection I used to offer so freely.

“Rowan, what’s wrong? Are you upset with me?” he finally blurted, his voice edged with concern.

“No,” I replied, shaking my head firmly.

“No?” he echoed, incredulity bleeding into frustration. “Then what’s with the coldness? I made an effort! I brought you to this beautiful place. Can’t you at least pretend to be happy?”

“I’m not angry, Lucian,” I insisted.

“Fine!” He let out a heavy sigh, pressing his palm to his forehead in frustration. “I swear, I won’t contact Ivy again. I’ll stop helping her, alright?”

I studied his face, looking for sincerity. Did he really believe that one empty promise could erase the months of hurt and deception?

“Are you satisfied now?” he pressed, his tone sharp, almost accusatory.

I remained silent, choosing instead to gaze out at the river, lost in thought. We drove to a nearby lodge he had arranged, complete with a small table set for two. He had even placed flowers on the table, as if hoping to rekindle a connection that had long since faded. But just as I was about to unwrap the small gift he had brought, his phone rang, cutting through the fragile atmosphere.

“Fever? Do you have any medicine on hand?” he asked urgently into the receiver. “I can’t take you to the healer’s hut tonight, I’m—what? That high? Alright, I’ll be right there.”

When he hung up, Lucian turned to me, guilt flickering in his eyes. “Rowan, it’s Ivy. Jesse’s running a high fever. I need to go—”

I swallowed my anger, forcing myself to keep my tone steady. “It’s fine,” I said, though each word felt like sandpaper against my throat. “Go ahead, Lucian. The pup needs you more than I do.”

He hesitated, as if waiting for me to change my mind, but I maintained my blank expression, watching him leave in a hurry, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alone in the lodge, I stared at the untouched meal laid out before me. Rain began to patter against the window, a muted echo of the tears I refused to shed. I sighed heavily, then quietly finished my meal before slipping out of the lodge.

I flagged down a truck to take me back to the pack’s territory. Without an umbrella, I braved the rain, each drop penetrating my clothes and chilling me to the bone.

Once I arrived home, I took a hot shower, hoping to wash away the remnants of the day’s disappointment. Afterward, I checked my messages and saw a new post from Ivy. She had shared a picture of Lucian holding Jesse, their cabin glowing with warmth around them.

I stared at the screen, my heart heavy with a mix of anger and sadness. The image felt like a dagger, twisting painfully within me. They looked so happy, so at ease, and I was left feeling like a ghost in my own life, haunting the corners of what used to be a shared existence.

Tears threatened to spill as I turned away from the screen, but I refused to let them fall. I had spent too long being second to Ivy, living in the shadows of Lucian’s choices.