Her expression fell, concern flashing across her features. She had known me long enough to see the kindness in my heart and perhaps hoped my marriage might provide me the family I had never truly had.
As I explained the reasons, her face softened. “Sometimes letting go is the bravest act,” she murmured, patting my hands. “You have to walk your own path, Toni.”
I nodded, embracing her tightly. “Thank you.”
Evening came, and I drove home at a leisurely pace along the quiet roads. There was no urgency to return, no pressure to be on time for dinner, no fear of Lorenz’s displeasure. In the past, I would have pushed the car past every limit, ensuring I arrived precisely when he demanded, for the ritual of shared meals—breakfast and dinner—was one of the few rules he enforced.
I never understood why he clung to those routines when there was no love, no connection. Perhaps it was for show, proof to the pack and staff that we were a “proper couple,” though we lived apart, slept apart, existed apart.
But when I entered the manor, I was met with a sight that made my chest tighten.