That old, familiar disgust was in his eyes. The same look he gave me when I showed the slightest hint of emotion. Without waiting for an answer, he stormed out, slamming the door to his study behind him.
Seven years. Seven years of silent treatments, of me always apologizing, groveling to make things right. But this time, I wasn’t going to do that. I cocked an eyebrow, switched off the bedside lamp, and didn’t knock on the study door.
The next morning, I made breakfast as usual, ate alone, and got ready to leave for work. Ethan came out of his study, still on his phone, barely sparing me a glance.
“Take the day off,” he ordered, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “I need you to make me an identical fondant cake by 5 p.m.”
I stared at him, the absurdity of it almost making me laugh. There I was, trying to hold my world together, and he was focused on some cake.
I lost my child, the future Alpha of this pack, and yet, he didn't care that much.
So, I gave a noncommittal nod, but my mind was already elsewhere.
Ethan was still lost in his phone as he turned away, probably messaging Fiona.
I was leaving. Soon. I wouldn’t have to pretend anymore.