~ 2: Fake a Smile

~ 2

~ Mia ~ 

I left the hospital in a daze, the doctor's words echoing in my skull louder than any headache.

Six months. And somewhere behind me, in the maternal wing, my husband was smiling at the woman carrying his pup.

The streets of East Lake territory carried on around me. Warriors jogging patrol routes. Pups chasing each other outside the school. Everyone so alive, so ordinary, like the world hadn't just handed me a death sentence.

My phone buzzed.

‘Where are you? You've been gone for hours. The West Mountain delegation dines with us tonight. Come home NOW. The table settings won't choose themselves.’

My mother in-law. No "how are you feeling." No "where did you go." Just the next demand on an endless list.

I was standing on the corner, staring at the message, when something across the street caught my eye.

A café. The trendy kind with floor-to-ceiling windows and overpriced pastries, the kind I'd asked Darian to take me to exactly once, two years ago.

"Are you serious?" he'd said. "The Alpha family doesn't lounge in public cafés like common pack members, Mia. We have a dignity to maintain. Everything we do is watched."

Apparently the dignity of the Alpha family had a different standard today.

Darian sat at the window table. Fanny beside him. And between them was my son, Nick.

Nick was laughing at something Fanny said. She had her arm around his shoulders, pulling him close for a photo while Darian held up his phone, angling for the best shot. Fanny fed Nick a bite of something, and he giggled, and Darian — my husband, the Alpha who couldn't be seen in public places captured it all with a warmth I hadn't seen on his face in years.

They looked like a family. A perfect, happy family, on display in a window for the whole pack to see.

When was the last time my son laughed like that with me?

I couldn’t contain my emotions. I pulled up Darian's contact and pressed call.

Through the glass, I watched him glance at his phone. Watched his expression curdle from content to irritated. He declined the call.

The rejection stung really bad, but I called again.

This time he answered but after saying something to Fanny and walking toward the back of the café, phone at his ear.

"What?" Sharp. Impatient. "I'm busy, Mia."

"I…" My voice cracked. "I need to talk to you. It's important."

"Everything is always important with you. Can it wait? I'm in the middle of something."

"No. Darian, please. I went to the hospital today, and…"

"The hospital." I could hear the eye roll. "Let me guess. They told you to rest and stop reading your own scans. Like I said." He didn't wait for an answer. "Listen, since you're out, did you go by Fanny's apartment like I asked?"

The question hit me like a slap. "What?"

"Fanny's apartment. It needs organizing. For some reasons, she can't be lifting and bending right now. So help put together a meal plan for her. Light, nutritious. You studied all that, didn't you? Make yourself useful with it."

Can't be lifting and bending? Meaning she is really pregnant and he was already rearranging my life around her pup.

"Darian, the doctor found…"

"Mia, I don't have time for this." His voice hardened into the tone he used on disobedient warriors. "Fanny has done more for this pack in a year than… just do this one thing without turning it into a scene. She's family."

"Darian…"

"I have to go. We'll talk at home."

The line went dead.

Through the window, I watched him walk back to the table. Fanny said something; he laughed, shaking his head. Probably telling her I was being dramatic again. Nick tugged his sleeve, and Darian pulled our son onto his lap in a gesture so natural, so affectionate, my chest ached.

I should march in there. I should push open that door and ask my Alpha husband what happened to the dignity of the Alpha family.

Instead I turned and walked to the bus stop, because that was who I was. The Luna nobody would recognize, taking public transport home to cook for her own replacement.

…

"Where have you been?"

My mother in-law's voice hit me before the front door had even closed.

"Do you have any idea what time it is? West Mountain arrives in four hours! Their Alpha, their Luna, their Beta… and the flower arrangements are still in boxes because you weren't here to choose them!"

"I'm sorry, Mother. I had an appointment at the…"

"I don't care if you had an appointment with the Moon Goddess herself!" She jabbed a finger toward the dining room. "Do you understand what tonight is? West Mountain is offering East Lake technological partnership — medical equipment, communications, security systems. Things this pack has needed for a decade. And the Luna of this house vanishes all day like a sulking pup!"

The headache came roaring back. I pressed my fingers to my temple.

"Mother, I really wasn't feeling well. The doctor said…"

"Oh, enough." She waved a hand. "You're always 'not feeling well.' Always some ailment. And now go… the kitchen. Everything must be started within the hour."

"Mother, please. Tonight is too important to risk on one pair of hands. Let me call the pack hall chefs… they cater for the Elders, they're excellent…"

Her laugh was harsh. "Are you insane? I've already told the West Mountain Luna that our Luna personally cooks for honored guests. Do you know what that story is worth? The humble Luna of East Lake, serving with her own hands." She stepped closer, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "If you ruin this — if your food or your pathetic appearance costs Darian this alliance… then you deserve to die. Do you understand me? You deserve to die."

The words should have shocked me. But I'd heard variations of that speech so many times they'd lost their power.

Today was the first day they were also a prophecy.

"I understand," I whispered.

…

Roasted venison was the West Mountain Alpha's favorite, according to the notes left on the counter. I prepared it from scratch, hands trembling as I worked, stopping twice to lean against the counter and breathe through waves of nausea.

I couldn't afford to rest. If dinner wasn't perfect, it would be my fault. It was always my fault.

By seven o'clock the dining table was beautiful, and I looked like death.

I'd caught a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror. Skin pale, dark circles under my eyes, hair limp despite my best efforts. The simple black dress hung off my frame… I'd lost so much weight without noticing.

The guests arrived shortly after. The West Mountain Alpha was a broad man in his fifties; his Luna was younger, elegant, wearing a diplomat's smile. Darian welcomed them with the easy authority he wore in public, guiding them toward the sitting room.

Then he saw me.

His smile froze. His eyes traveled from my face to my dress to my hair, and what I saw in them wasn't concern.

It was disgust.

"Mia." His voice stayed pleasant, but I heard the steel underneath. "Could you help me bring up the wine from the cellar? The vintage for our guests."

He followed me into the stairwell, and the moment we were out of earshot, he turned on me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

I flinched. "What?"

"Look at yourself!" His voice was a harsh whisper. "You look half-dead. Do you understand what tonight means? West Mountain's technology could transform this pack. Their Luna is out there measuring everything about us — and this is what East Lake's Luna looks like?"

"Darian, I've been cooking all afternoon. I'm not well…"

"Everyone gets tired, Mia. But they don't greet an allied Alpha looking like… like this." His hand cut through the air. "You're my Luna. Every flaw in you is a flaw in me. You already give the pack enough to whisper about."

Wolfless. He didn't have to say it.

The unfairness stole my breath. "I've been trying to tell you all day. Darian, at the hospital, the doctor found…"

"Not now." Flat and final. "Whatever drama you're manufacturing can wait until West Mountain leaves. Right now, go fix yourself. Change the dress. Do something with your hair. Make yourself presentable."

"Darian…"

"Now, Mia." He was already turning away. "And smile when you come down. I don't care if you have to fake it. Just don't ruin this for me."

He climbed the stairs without looking back.

I stood alone in the stairwell, one hand braced against the cold stone wall, and felt something inside me crack.

Maybe the six month death sentence is the only way to end this misery.