The last night

Mauve,

His hands were cold, his knees were shaking as his golden eyes watched the woman he had loved, declared and recited her love for the new Alpha of the Pack.

Alessandro—a man who never lowered his head, a man who was true to his nature—looked shattered, as if he had lost everything.

The realization of her betrayal hit him so hard that he could no longer remain on his knees.

I knew he was heartbroken and distraught. That was why I didn’t say anything when he almost pinned me against the wall forcefully.

My wrists were bruised. But more than that, I was terrified he would find out. The pregnancy would be discovered by him.

After running away from him, I hadn’t closed the door completely. I loved that man, just like he loved her. Maybe I loved him a little less since I was already making up my mind to leave.

However, despite everything between us, my heart refused to leave. He was in pain—and I was there.

Standing behind the door, I watched him grab a bottle of whiskey from the bar. He sat there, pouring a whole glass.

His expression was blank. Lifeless. Too quiet.

He chugged the entire glass in one breath and then started coughing.

But that didn’t stop him from having more. By the time I realized my feet were hurting from standing too long, the counter was littered with empty bottles and his head rested on the edge of it.

I didn’t know what to do anymore. What if he didn’t pass out? What if he came at me? In that fragile moment, any intimacy with a drunken Alpha, one with such stamina, was a risk for the baby.

I had decided to keep it. I would protect it. But I couldn’t leave him passed out in the cold.

Against my better judgment, I moved toward him. With a safe distance still between us, I gently stroked the side of his neck.

He stirred a little. The neck had always been a sensitive spot for wolves. He opened his eyes slightly, let out a soft moan, then drifted back into slumber.

"Alessandro, you should go back to your room," I whispered, gently stroking his cheek.

Maybe this would be the last time I’d see him this close. Tomorrow, we’d divorce and part ways.

I pulled up a chair and sat next to him. The strong scent of alcohol wasn’t helping my morning sickness, but how could I sleep when he was hurting like this?

I rested my head on my arm on the counter, facing his breathtakingly handsome face. The trimmed beard framed his features perfectly. That sharp, long nose. His dry lips from all the drinking. Thick eyebrows and long eyelashes. Disheveled hair that made him look even more magnetic.

He was everything a woman could dream of in a man.

"I'm sorry, Alessandro," I whispered with a bitter smile. "Love hurts, doesn't it? I wonder what will happen after I leave. Will you find someone new? Someone who makes you fall again?"

I reached out, gently tracing the angles of his face—the sharp jawline that made him look so powerful.

"I have so much to say. So many moments I wanted to share throughout our marriage. I broke the third rule of our relationship three months after our wedding," I chuckled softly, though guilt clung to every word.

"Honestly… From an outside perspective, people would call me crazy. How could I fall in love with a tormentor who played with my emotions more than anything? But in the end, it was me who forgot the rules and turned them into torments for myself," I sighed, breathing deeply.

My hand lingered on his cool, calm face. "I’m proud of you. For loving someone so dearly. Evelyn was lucky to have a man love her like this. At least she won’t be able to blame you for not giving your best. So forget about her. Move on. Find your mate and..." My voice cracked as tears dripped onto the counter, "Be happy with her."

Maybe I was never meant to be the one beside him. Maybe loving him silently was all I could ever offer in return for everything he'd done.

For the first time, I dared to kiss him—only because he was too drunk to realize. My lips brushed his gently, lingering there as my heart pounded against my ribcage. I stayed quiet, trying to memorize the feeling.

After a while, I held his hand, locking it with mine. We had never held hands. Never done anything a couple should do.

"I wish we could go out just once. Before the divorce. Have a cup of coffee with lots of macaroni. Talk about anything but us. No contract, no rules. Just two humans having a good time. It’s silly, right? How could I, a human, dream of something so ridiculous?" I chuckled, pinching his cheek gently. Even in this state, he looked so damn handsome. It made me jealous.

"Why not?" a voice whispered.

I jolted upright, panic rushing through me. Alessandro was staring at me. His blazing golden eyes were locked on mine—dark, hollow, but focused.

"Alessandro!" I gasped. My chest tightened. The air left my lungs. I staggered back, realizing the danger I was in. His red-rimmed eyes followed my every move, and my heart thudded louder with each passing second.

He had heard everything. Every word I thought he slept through. My body trembled, sweat breaking across my skin.

But I couldn’t move far when he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his arms. Too tightly. I struggled to breathe.

"Let’s do it," he whispered against my neck, his lips pressing gently to my skin. "Let’s enjoy a cup of coffee before the divorce. That’s the least we can do after three years of marriage."

Wh-What? He wasn’t upset? He wasn’t angry or yelling about broken rules? He still wanted this?

"I..." I tried to speak, but he pressed his finger to my lips.

"Let’s enjoy the last night of our marriage," he said, lifting me into his arms.

Last night.

My heart bled at those words. He knew I loved him, and still, he wouldn’t consider it. He wouldn’t even punish me for breaking the rules. But he was ready to let go of me.

When he placed me gently on the bed, I gave up on any hope. He was being sweet now, but I knew how he’d react to broken promises. I braced myself, closing my eyes tightly. I was scared of the baby. I didn't know what I would do if he became aggressive.

But then—to my surprise —he covered me with a blanket and lay down next to me. His face buried into the crook of my neck as he whispered,

"Good night, my beautiful wife."

He kissed me—slow and tender, full of unspoken things—and then pulled away just enough to murmur, "They’re beautiful without those hideous red lipstick. I regret ever letting you wear that stupid color. You look gorgeous just like this."

I froze. Was he too drunk to remember the dynamics of our relationship? There was no way he'd talk to me like this unless he was confused.

"Sleep tight," he whispered again, pressing a kiss to my forehead and pulling me into a warm embrace. "It’s been a long night. Good night."