Tears filled my eyes. I had been nothing more than an object to him, a trophy in his world rather than a partner in life. I blocked his sigil, severing the last tether to him, determined to carve my own path.
Days later, word reached me through mutual pack members that Lorenz was frantically searching, sending messages I never received.
[Toni, I’m sorry. Return to me.]
Tomorrow marked my graduation after four cycles of grueling study at the Rhode Island School of Art, a day I had longed to share with Lorenz. But when I mentioned it at dinner, his response was cold as the winter wind in the northern forest.
“I have obligations tomorrow,” he said sharply. “I’ll send you a gift.”
He rose, already absorbed in his crystal communicator, leaving me staring at the empty space where he should have been, feeling as though I’d been erased from his life.
In recent moons, just as I thought he might be warming back to me, he withdrew again. The reason was obvious: Emily Javier had returned, ready to establish her den in Providence.
Since her return, Lorenz had devoted himself to her, as if she were his chosen mate. For a full cycle, I watched him attend to her every need, lavishing time, attention, and resources, while I received only passing words and empty gestures.
A cycle ago, I opened my own gallery, a labor of my heart and soul. Lorenz did not appear. Not a single moment was spared. Instead, he sent a bouquet with a note so generic it felt like an obligation rather than a celebration.
Yet, when Emily needed him at the airport, he was there instantly. For her den, he arranged every detail, as if her life eclipsed mine entirely.
I felt like a ghost in my own pack, invisible to the mate I had pledged myself to.
My frustration finally boiled over as I followed him upstairs, voice trembling but firm.
“Why are you so cruel, Lorenz? When I held my gallery, you stayed away. When you fetched Emily from the airport, I said nothing. You poured your time and resources into her den. And now, on my graduation, you can’t even spare hours for me? Is it all because of Emily?”
He looked at me, slipping his communicator into his belt, a mix of irritation and disdain on his face.
“What are you whining about now?” he sneered. “Your allowance isn’t enough? Do you want a luxury gift? Just say it instead of making a scene.”