COLD DINNER, COLDER HEART

Elena Rivers pushed her thick glasses up her nose for the tenth time that evening. They never stayed one place, always sliding down whenever she bent over the stove, and tonight, she didn’t mind. Today was special, she'd been cooking for three hours straight. The kitchen smelled amazing - roasted lamb with rosemary, garlic mashed potatoes, and Damien's favourite chocolate cake cooling on the counter. The kitchen of the Silvermoon Pack house was massive, built to feed hundreds during pack gatherings. But tonight, Elena had claimed a small corner for herself. She'd spent the entire day preparing Damien's birthday dinner.

"Perfect," she whispered, arranging the plates just right. "He'll love this." The meat was golden brown, cooked exactly how Damien liked it. Medium-rare, seasoned with rosemary and thyme from the pack garden.

Her oversized grey sweater hung loose on her thin frame as she moved around the dining room. She'd found their best dishes, the ones they'd gotten as wedding gifts six years ago. The crystal glasses sparkled under the chandelier light. Two candles flickered on the table, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

"Luna Elena?" A young omega girl peeked into the kitchen. "Do you need any help?"

Elena turned, offering a gentle smile. "No, thank you, Sarah. I've got everything under control."

Sarah nodded quickly and disappeared. Elena heard her whispers to someone in the hallway. "She's still cooking. Poor thing thinks he's actually going to show up."

The words stung, but Elena pushed them aside. Of course Damien would come. It was his birthday. She'd reminded him twice this week, and he'd grunted acknowledgment both times. That was practically enthusiasm from her mate.

Her mate. The word still felt strange after six years of marriage. Weren't mates supposed to be inseparable? Weren't they supposed to love each other desperately? Elena had grown up hearing stories about fated mates who couldn't bear to be apart, who completed each other like two halves of a soul.

She glanced at the clock. Seven-thirty. Damien's office work should have ended an hour ago, she texted him.

"He's just running late," she told herself, adjusting the table settings for the hundredth time. The dining room looked beautiful. She'd found candles in storage and borrowed the good china that was usually reserved for Alpha ceremonies. The bottle of wine had cost her entire monthly allowance, but Damien was worth it.

Elena caught her reflection in the window and winced. Her mousy brown hair was escaping from its messy bun and there was flour on her oversized sweater. She looked exactly like what she was…a small, plain woman trying too hard.

She sat down at the table, hands folded in her lap. The food steamed invitingly, but she wouldn't eat until he arrived. That's what good mates did…they waited.

"Maybe I should change," she muttered, but footsteps in the hallway made her freeze. Heavy, confident steps that could only belong to one person.

Her heart raced as she smoothed down her sweater and hurried to the dining room. "Damien! Happy birth…"

But the footsteps continued past, heading toward the Alpha's office wing. Elena's words died in her throat. She stood there, hands clasped in front of her, staring at the empty doorway.

"Luna?" Another pack member, James, passed by and paused. "Everything alright?"

"Yes!" Elena forced brightness into her voice. "Just waiting for the Alpha. Would you mind letting him know dinner is ready when you see him?"

James's expression shifted to something Elena hated…pity. "Sure, Luna. I'll let him know."

She sat down at the table, hands folded in her lap. The food steamed invitingly, but she wouldn't eat until he arrived. That's what good mates did - they waited.

8:00 PM came and went. Then 9:00. The roast grew cold despite Elena's attempts to keep it warm. The candles burned lower, wax dripping onto the tablecloth she'd spent an hour ironing. Her wolf, usually her constant companion, remained utterly silent. It had been years since she'd heard her wolf's voice, felt her presence as anything more than a hollow ache.

Other pack members passed by the dining room, glancing in with expressions ranging from sympathy to disgust. Elena heard their whispers, pretending she didn't.

"Pathetic."

"You'd think she'd learn by now."

"No wonder the Alpha doesn't want her."

Each word was a small cut, but Elena had learned to endure them. Love required patience. Love required sacrifice. If she just tried harder, if she was just good enough, Damien would see her worth. He had to. They were mates.

Elena's stomach growled. She pressed a hand against it, ignoring the hunger. The candles had burned down an inch. The lamb wasn't steaming anymore.

Her wolf hadn't spoken to her in years. Sometimes Elena forgot she even had one. Other wolves could communicate with their inner animals, draw strength from them. But hers remained silent, like it had given up on her too.

At 10:00 PM, Elena finally stood up. Her legs had gone numb from sitting so long. She walked to the window and peered out at the pack house grounds. No sign of Damien's black SUV.

"Maybe there was an emergency," she said to the empty room. "Maybe rogues attacked the border."

But she would have heard the alarm howls. The pack link would have buzzed with warnings. No, everything was quiet tonight. Peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Elena returned to the table and blew out the candles. Smoke curled up, making her eyes water. At least, that's what she told herself caused the tears.

"Happy birthday, Damien," she whispered to his empty chair.

She began clearing the table, each movement mechanical. Scrape the lamb into containers. Pour the potatoes into Tupperware. Wrap the cake in plastic. Maybe he'd eat it tomorrow. Maybe he'd notice she'd made all his favorites.

The front door slammed at 11:47 PM.

Elena's heart jumped. She quickly wiped her face and tried to smile. "Damien! I was worried about-"

"Not now, Elena." His deep voice cut through her words like a knife.

She watched him stride past the dining room without even glancing inside. His tall frame filled the hallway, muscles visible even through his black shirt. His dark hair was slightly messed, like he'd been running his hands through it.

"I made dinner," Elena said, her voice small. "For your birthday."

Damien paused at his office door. For a moment, hope fluttered in Elena's chest. Would he turn around? Would he finally see her?

"I already ate," he said.

"It's... it's your birthday dinner." Elena hated how small her voice sounded. "I made your favourite. Roast with…"

"I told you I had work tonight."

"No, you said you'd be home by seven. For dinner. I texted you to remind…"

"Elena." He said her name like it exhausted him. "I don't have time for this. The Moonshade Pack is pushing at our borders again. I have real problems to deal with."

Real problems. As if she wasn't real. As if this…them…wasn't real.

"I just thought... it's your birthday. I wanted to do something nice."

Damien's jaw tightened. "I didn't ask you to do this. I specifically told you I'd be busy this week."

"That was last week. You said this week…."

"I don't have time to keep track of every little thing I say to you." He turned to leave. "Clean this up. I'll be in my office."

"Damien, please." The words tumbled out before she could stop them. "Just... just sit with me for five minutes. The food's cold now, but we could have some wine, maybe talk about…"

"Talk about what?" He spun back to face her, and for the first time, there was emotion in his eyes. Irritation. "What could we possibly have to talk about, Elena? You spend your days doing... what exactly? Cooking meals I don't eat? Planning dinners I don't attend?"

Each word was a dagger to her heart. "I'm trying to be a good wife. A good Luna."

"A good Luna?" He laughed, but there was no humour in it. "A good Luna is strong. Powerful. Someone the pack can respect. You're..." He gestured vaguely at her. "You're playing house."

Elena felt tears burning behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not in front of him. "I'm doing my best."

"Your best isn't good enough." He said it so simply, like it was just a fact. Like saying the sky was blue or water was wet. "It never has been.” He left without another word. His footsteps echoing down the hallway. A moment later, she heard his office door clicked shut. The decisive click of Damien's office door closing echoed through the house like a gunshot.

Elena, frozen stood alone in the hallway, staring at the closed door. Then, mechanically, she began clearing the table. She scraped the untouched food into containers, blew out the candles, washed the dishes, scrub, rinse, dry. Scrub, rinse, dry. The repetitive motion kept her hands busy while her mind raced.

When had it gotten this bad? When had her mate stopped seeing her as anything more than furniture in his house?

"Why?" she whispered to the empty kitchen. "Why isn't it enough? Why aren't I enough?"

The tears came then, silent and steady. They dripped into the soapy water as Elena scrubbed the roasting pan. She didn't make a sound, she'd learned to cry quietly. Alphas didn't like weakness, and tears were the ultimate weakness.

"I just have to try harder," she whispered to herself. "Be better. Be stronger. Be more."

But deep down, a tiny voice wondered: What if she was never enough?

Elena finished the dishes and turned off the kitchen lights. The house was dark except for the thin line of light under Damien's office door. She could hear him on the phone, his voice low and businesslike.

She climbed the stairs to their bedroom - though it hadn't felt like "theirs" in a long time. The king-sized bed seemed to mock her with its emptiness. She'd sleep alone again tonight while her mate worked late.

Or did whatever he did behind that closed door.

Elena pushed the thought away. She couldn't think like that. Damien was her mate, chosen by the Moon Goddess herself. The sacred bond meant something. It had to.

She changed into her plain nightgown and crawled under the covers. The bed was cold. Everything in her life was cold.

"Tomorrow will be better," she whispered into her pillow. "Tomorrow he'll see me."

Tomorrow would be another day. Another chance to try. Another opportunity to make Damien see that she could be the Luna he wanted.

She had to believe that. Because if she didn't...

Elena shook her head, banishing the thought. Love could fix anything. She just had to love him harder, better, more. Eventually, he'd love her back the way he was supposed to. The mate bond meant something. It had to.

But as sleep finally claimed her, Elena didn't hear the soft female laughter coming from Damien's office. She didn't smell the floral perfume that wasn't hers.

She didn't know that tomorrow would only bring more heartbreak.