The Alpha King’s Broken Luna

Azelea’s Pov

It was my birthday, the one day I had made a foolish wish; a night with my husband and nothing more.

The clock ticked almost as if mocking me for believing that he would return. “He is busy… the pack needs him,” was the story I had fed my mind until there was nothing more to say. The air in the kitchen reeked of burnt cookies and a hint of vanilla.

He had promised and told me he would be home before nine, and now, three hours later, there is no sign of him. My eyes watered as I stared at the cookies, the excitement had died now, now all that was left were burnt cookies and a flickering hope.

He is working.

Maybe I am just being paranoid.

The more I tried to counter the truth, the more the alternative hurt more than it should.

But even before this day, I had been walking with a ticking time bomb in my hands, his smile had gone, the loud boisterous laughter that reverberated through my soul had become a myth. The only thing waiting was for him to find a reason not to touch me anymore.

“Happy birthday, Azelea,” I mumbled to myself.

“Happy belated birthday,” I added to sound more fitting as I picked up the burnt cookie and took a large bite. I laughed, my eyes watering as I tasted the burnt taste on my tongue.

It was just fitting, just like my marriage, an ash to the tongue.

The door slid open and my heart leapt in my chest, the fickler of hope that I thought I had killed suddenly ignited.

“You are still awake?”

Amara walked in, I tried to hide it, but I knew she could see through me, just like she has seen me hide my twisted ankle when we were six.

Maybe our first meeting wasn't how most people met their best friends… but each day, I thank the goddess that she found me.

I sank back to my chair, my fingers trembling to hold back from shaking. “Hey, I couldn’t sleep, thought I should bake… looks like I burnt them again,” I let out a dry laugh.

Amara stared at me her eyes filled with pity and a nervous smile on her lips, “Are you eating a cookie?”

I shrugged, biting more into the poison that burned my throat, “needed to know what the fuss had been all about,”

“Azy…” she paused; the frown plastered heavily on her face. “You don’t even like sweets... what is…”

Was this the reason life handed me lemons at each turn?

“Trying new habits, seeing what fits,” I said in a soft tone. “Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to see how long my patience for these things would last,” I said, half joking and half broken.

She heaved a sigh, “You are waiting for him, aren’t you?”

I didn’t miss the way she referred to him, with a little bite to her tone. I could question her but then she would just shrug it off as nothing. Amara has never been one to admire Noah, just like the cynical person that she was, his smiles and charms did nothing to sway her.

They had swayed me. Goddess, the smiles had moved me so hard that I had lost myself in becoming a version of what I thought he wanted. And in the end, I still wasn’t good enough.

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the thought that slipped in, a Luna without an alpha. Pathetic, isn’t it?

She didn’t wait for me to say anything, my silence was the loudest answer she would ever get.

“Azy…”

“Amara,” I cut in, the stiff smile forming on my lips. “Noah is my husband…. And you know how demanding these few days have been, he is busy,”

Yet you sit here every night, eyes fixed to the door like a puppy waiting for its master.

She could have said that, but she was too pure for that. She wouldn’t even breathe the word to life, no matter how blaring they were.

“Maybe you should retire for the night, and in the morning, I will have fresh batches ready,” she said in a calm tone. This was how it always goes; I defend and she deflects.

I couldn’t help it, my eyes darted towards the door, the hopeless wish echoing at the back of my mind that he would walk through with those smiles that literally chase my fears away. That he would hold me in his arms and tell me he was sorry.

But hopes are nothing but a cruel torture to believers. The last nail that hits before death comes into place.

“Azalea,” she called out, her voice drawing me back to the present. “You need to rest… You are looking pale... the people… they are worried,” she whispered.

I nodded my head absent-mindedly, of course, I was the figurehead that shouldn’t be scarred, the exact replica of perfection. Nobody cared if I bled. They just needed the perfect Luna, someone to make this town a perfect home.

“I am fine, I guess the hours I spent burning the cookies really wore me down,” I said, the smile hurt as it curled on my lips.

She didn’t believe me, but she didn’t call out my lie. She never does. I think most times she just pities me so much that she lets me dwell in my deluded thoughts.

“Goodnight,” I murmured, walking up the stairs, I couldn’t stay down there, not when the pity in her eyes was close to making me weep.

As I walked past our room, the one that I share with Noah, a lone tear slipped down my cheek, has he even noticed that I don’t sleep here anymore?

Once, I had been complacent with the decisions he made, but now? All I have left is fear.

Why was I still here?