Forgotten Vows Under the Moon

I couldn't bring myself to shatter their happiness.

A cold numbness settled over me as I watched them—my mate Ethan, the pups, and her. Empty and resigned, I let the weight of the moment wash over me, then lifted the provisions and walked back to the den without looking back.

The two little wolves were clamoring for Beef Wellington—a dish that required precision and care, much like the fragile balance in our bond.

No matter what happened between Ethan and me, I was still their Luna.

I kept telling myself that. Over and over.

As if repeating it could make it feel true.

The beef sizzled in the hearth as I turned to prepare the side herbs and roots.

In a careless moment, the knife slipped, slicing into my palm.

While tending the wound, a sharp thought struck me—Lucas didn't even like the smell of beef.

I froze.

It was like frost blooming inside me, petal by petal, cold and silent.

Then whose hunger was this dish meant to satisfy?

Lost in thought, I heard Lucas's bright voice from the hallway.

"The sports trials today were so much fun! If we could have them every day, Aunt Isla could come be our mom all the time!"

His sister, Mia, shushed him.

"Quiet, it’s our secret. Mom can't know."

Ethan smiled faintly, a trace of resignation in his voice.

"Kids speak without filters. Lucas and Mia just love Isla too much."

"I know your spirit longs for freedom, not to be chained by domestic ties. Let Isla handle those mundane things."

My wolf let out a low, broken whine, her chest heaving as if something inside her had been torn apart.

She didn't snarl, didn't fight, just sank inward—silent and shaking.

Before I could respond, the front door clicked open.

The four of them appeared.

Isla’s face lit up when she saw me, arms wide open as she rushed forward.

"Cousin! It's been so long! Have you missed me?"

Her fingers almost touched me, but Ethan stepped between us, barely frowning.

"Don't touch her. She reeks of smoke and grease."

"Dirty."

His words hit me like a sharp blow—an invisible slap that left me utterly humiliated.

Noticing my discomfort, Isla punched Ethan lightly.

"Is that how you talk about your mate? Shameless."

"Cousin, don't mind him—he’s had this bad temper since we were pups. You know I love him."

"I know you’re the most patient one. Cut him some slack."

Ethan held his hand to the spot she hit, no anger, only a fond smirk flickering in his eyes.

Behind them, Mia wrinkled her nose.

"Mom's so petty."

From the sofa, Lucas shouted without looking up, munching on wolfberry chips.

"Why isn't the Beef Wellington ready? Mom’s so lazy."

I looked at the mess—the crumbs scattered like ash, the spilled water soaking into the rug—and felt the weight of it all settle in my bones.

Not anger.

Not sorrow.

Just a quiet certainty, cold and final:

This was what I had become to them.

A ghost in my own home.

Lazy.

I slipped off my leather apron and bent to wipe the bloodstain from the floor.

"Let's order from the restaurant," I said slowly, "My hand's hurt. I can't cook."

Ethan helped lift the injured hand, displeased.

"Takeout isn't healthy."

I replied flatly, "Neither is ice-cream cake."

He was momentarily speechless.

To my surprise, a flicker of something sharp and ugly curled in my chest—something like satisfaction.

Then his expression darkened as he grabbed Isla’s hand and headed out.

"Mom's having another episode. Lucas, Mia, your father will take you and Aunt Isla out to eat."

The two pups leapt up instantly, gathering around him in delight.

"Yay! Aunt Isla's back! She's a thousand times better than Mom!"

Isla glanced at the pups, then at me, awkwardly trying to ease the tension.

"Don't mind the pups—they don't mean it. Come join us."

"No," Ethan interrupted quickly.

"If she goes, none of us will be happy."

I nodded slowly.

Something inside me went still—so still it almost felt like peace.

Looking at a picture of four wolves, I said quietly:

"You're right. So…"

"Ethan, we should break the bond."