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Alora’s POV:

Last night was my wedding night, but my husband disappeared.

I woke up to the first rays of dawn spilling through the curtains of the room that was supposed to mark the beginning of my new life. The bed next to me was cold and untouched, a stark reminder that Alpha Mathias Darkwood, my husband, hadn’t even bothered to show up.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, only to hiss in pain as a sharp sting shot through my foot.

Looking down, I saw shards of glass scattered across the floor, blood pooling beneath my toes.

The mess from last night—the broken ceramics, the torn clothes were still there, a grim reminder of my frustration.

A knock at the door startled me, and Betty, my only friend in this life, stepped inside. Her face contorted in shock the moment her eyes fell on the blood.

Without hesitation, she rushed to me, grabbing my shoulders. “Alora, what are you doing?” she asked, panic evident in her voice.

“I’m fine,” I said, standing to my feet despite the sting in my foot.

Her soft sobs made me pause, turning back toward her.

“Come on, Betty. I’m okay,” I said gently.

She wiped at her tears, her gaze locking onto mine. “I can still remember the first day I saw you. You’d just been brought in as a slave. You were seven, the same age as me. So small, so fragile, like you might disappear if someone touched you.”

I chuckled faintly at her words, but her expression grew serious.

“What drew me to you was your eyes,” she continued, her voice soft. “That fire. I’ve never seen anyone with a fire like that before. I became your friend, and I wasn’t wrong. No matter what they did to you, what they put you through, that fire never left. You just kept surviving.” She paused, stepping closer and taking my hands in hers. Her tone deepened. “It takes someone strong to endure the things you have, especially in this household.”

Her grip on my hands tightened. “You’re strong, Alora. You gave me hope through your strength. That’s what I’ve always admired about you. But right now…” She hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I don’t see that fire anymore.”

Before I could respond, she pressed on.

"You’ve survived for 21 years. You can survive this marriage too. I know Alpha Mathias isn’t the husband you dreamed of, but think about it, you’re no longer a slave. You’re not below an Omega anymore. You’re the Luna. Yes, he might be a beast, but you’ve gained freedom in ways you never thought possible."

She inhaled deeply, her voice trembling. “So don’t, don’t ever try to take your own life again.”

It hit me then what this was all about. She thought I was trying to end my life.

"You didn’t survive all this time just to give up now," she added, her voice soft but firm.

I pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly. “Thank you for being such a great friend, Betty,” I murmured, pulling back to look at her. “But you’ve got it all wrong. I wasn’t trying to kill myself, I just stepped on some broken glass.”

Her eyes widened, relief and shock warring on her face. “Oh, I—I'm sorry, I thought…”

“Don’t apologize,” I cut her off with a small smile.

"But what happened? Why is this place such a mess?" she asked, her gaze darting around the room.

I sighed. "I did it," I admitted, watching her face twist in disbelief.

"You? Why?"

"I was angry, okay? My husband didn’t show up last night," I confessed.

Her brows furrowed. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It’s not that.” I hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “It’s just…”

I trailed off, sighing again. How could I explain it in a way that made sense?

“I’m going to take a shower,” I finally said, brushing past her and heading for the bathroom.

After bathing, I stepped back into the room, only to find Alpha Mathias seated on the edge of the bed.

His eyes lit up the moment he saw me. I didn’t acknowledge him and walked straight to the wardrobe. My hands sifted through the clothes when I suddenly felt his arm wrap around my waist.

I froze.

“I’m sorry, love, for not showing up last night,” he murmured, his lips grazing my neck as he planted soft kisses along the sensitive skin.

My stomach churned, and my skin prickled with unease. I closed my eyes, willing myself not to recoil, not to scream. Every fiber of my being felt repulsed.

Somehow, I managed to wriggle out of his grasp. “It’s okay,” I muttered, forcing a smile. “You can make it up to me tonight.”

“I can’t,” he replied, and my brows furrowed.

“Can’t?” I repeated, my voice tinged with confusion.

“Listen, love,” he began, his tone soft but firm, “I promise I’ll make it up to you when I come back.”

“Come back?” The words felt like a punch to my chest. “Where are you going?”

“I’m heading to the human realm. There are… things I need to take care of,” he said vaguely.

“For how long?” My voice was barely above a whisper.

“Three hundred and fifty-eight days,” he replied.