He stepped out of the room without a second glance, leaving me alone with the ache in my chest—and the quiet knowledge of the life growing inside me, a life he sure didn't treasure as his own.
Dinner was quiet, almost too quiet. I sat across the table, forcing myself to eat, though each bite felt like it might stick in my throat. Across from me, my mate ate peacefully, almost oblivious. After his call earlier, he had settled into dinner as if nothing had happened.
But everything was wrong.
"So," he spoke between bites, "how was the meeting with the healers?"
I took a slow breath, steeling myself. "It was... fine." I reached for my glass and took a long drink, hoping to calm the swirl of emotions beneath my words.
He smiled, genuine warmth in his eyes.
"Of course it was. They’re lucky to have someone as sharp as you, my Luna. Rest assured, everything’s in good hands." His tone was sweet, like honey—and for a moment, I wanted to believe it. How could he say these things so earnestly, as if there wasn’t anything else weighing us down?
His eyes twinkled as he looked at me, amused. "What?" he chuckled, wiping his mouth. "Got something on my face?"