Dress for War

Tiago was the first to break the silence, his voice breaking and his eyes shining with tears.

“You're annoying! You never let me do anything!”

The scream cut through me like a knife. The spoon still in my hand, the ice cream dripping onto the floor, I felt like the worst mother in the world—in front of my son... and theirs.

Maura flashed that kind of smile that pretends empathy, but only oozes venom—sweet on the surface, acidic on the inside.

“Don't talk to your mother like that, Tiago. Mothers are like that... sometimes annoying.”

She didn't have to say it. I heard it between the lines: that I was annoying, inconvenient, out of place.

And, worse, I believed it.

Carlos took a deep breath. His jaw locked before he spat out the words with contained anger.

“Don't make a scene, Camila. Once won't kill the boy.”

I didn't answer, not because I didn't want to, but because I no longer had the strength to do so.

Tiago looked at me as if I had ruined his perfect day. The pain burned inside me, hot as acid.

 I raised the glass, handing it back. My voice came out soulless.

“Okay... if that's what you want.”

I turned my back. I just wanted to leave. Get out of there before I broke down in front of everyone. But Carlos wouldn't let me.

 His hand held my arm firmly. His eyes tried to tame my escape.

“Aren't you going to say hello to Maura?”

I stopped walking, as if my feet had been  put in place.  

I took a deep breath and slowly turned my face, staring at him. The disappointment was so great that it didn't even hurt anymore, just... empty.

Carlos loosened his grip. His voice changed. He tried to sound sweet. He almost begged.

“Honey... please. Sit down. This is Maura. A childhood friend. You two haven't met yet.”

Maura leaned in as if she were my best friend, with that smile of someone who never loses their composure.

“Really, Camila. You're beautiful. Just like Tiago described.”

That killed me, because I knew exactly how he described me. Pretty... but dressed like a grandmother.

I swallowed hard and smiled. A fake smile, the kind that tears you up inside but looks polite on the outside.

“Nice to meet you.”

I turned to Carlos, unable to hide the exhaustion in my voice.

“I'm not staying. I came to buy something. See you guys at home.”

And then I left. With my head held high, because if I stopped for a second... I would break down.

I went into the first store I saw. I didn't even look at the name, the window display, nothing. I just went in like someone running away from the world.

My fingers ran through the hangers as if they knew what they were looking for, but that wasn't true. I picked up three or four dresses at random, without looking at the color, size, or fabric. I just needed to hide. To crawl into somewhere and disappear.

The fitting room felt like a prison cell—small, cold, cramped. A place tailor-made to break those who were already broken. I closed the curtain tightly and, as soon as I was alone, I broke down.

I held back the tears as long as I could. But inside that cramped cubicle, the weight I was carrying exploded.

The first tear rolled down my cheek even though I fought against it. The ones that followed burned like acid. It wasn't just sadness. It was anger—at him, at them, at myself.

How did I end up here?

When I was able to breathe again, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I forced myself to stand up. I took a deep breath and stared at the dresses hanging on the rack.

 

Almost all of them looked like the clothes I wear today — modest, straight, nothing special. But one... one of them was different.

Black, form-fitting, with a low back and a slight slit up the side of the leg.

 It was the kind of dress I used to wear.

From when I was still just me. Before Carlos molded my gestures, censored my clothes, silenced my inner wolf.

I picked up the dress without thinking twice and left the dressing room, heading straight for the cash register.

 I paid. I didn't want a bag. I folded it and carried it in my hand.

I arrived home still in silence. I walked through the living room, through the kitchen, went straight up to my room, took off my shoes on the way.

 I closed the door behind me as if closing my whole life.

I threw myself on the bed and hugged the dress as if it were a symbol. It wasn't just a piece of cloth. It was a choice.

 

Either I reacted now, or I lost everything. Carlos, Tiago, my life, my position.

It was Thursday. Dinner at the Pack's headquarters.

 I hadn't been there in a long time. Carlos said I needed to rest, take care of my health. 

 And I obeyed,  as I always did. But tonight I was going.

I got out of bed and went into the bathroom. I turned on the hot shower and let the water run until my skin turned red.

 It was as if each drop washed away a little of the submissive Camila I had forced myself to be.

After my shower, I put on my new dress. I adjusted the neckline with my hands. I looked at my reflection and, for a second, I almost didn't recognize myself. But I was there, more alive than ever.

I let my hair down. I put on perfume—the one Carlos always said was too strong, but I didn't care. Tonight I wanted to be different. I wanted to go back to doing only what I liked.

 

I put on heels. Makeup, red lipstick. The same one I wore on our first date.

I went downstairs with my heart beating like a drum.

I was going to that dinner. I was going to show everyone — especially him — that I was Luna.

 That I was still here.

I left the house as if I were going back to war, but for the first time... with the right weapons.

The Pack's headquarters was full. As soon as I walked in, all eyes turned to me. A whisper or two, some wide-eyed stares.

Admiration in some, surprise in others. And maybe... respect.

I stood up straight. Shoulders aligned, chin up. Inside, the hurricane threatened to tear me apart. Outside, every step was calculated. Every gesture said: here is Luna.

I walked slowly to the area where the children were playing, and there he was: Tiago, laughing loudly, with a doll in his hand, sweaty and happy.

 

I stood still, just watching, afraid of breaking that moment. But he saw me.

He stopped running. He narrowed his eyes.

“Mommy?”

I approached him, smiling. His eyes widened.

“Mom... you look really pretty! Now you do!”

And that was it. He turned his back and ran away, as if he hadn't just stabbed me with the most innocent compliment in the world.

But it hurt in a good way. Because for a second, I felt alive. Now I was ready, I took a deep breath, adjusted my dress, and went to look for Carlos.

Deep down, I dreamed that he would have the same reaction. That he would get up when he saw me, walk over to me, and say that I looked beautiful.

I walked straight to the game room. That corner of the house where the men of the pack feel like gods.

The half-open door let out the smell of alcohol and smoke. Then, his voice, Carlos, and right after that... hers, Maura.

Sitting next to him as if she had always belonged there. Her hand on his arm possessively, marking a territory that was  supposed to be mine.

I trembled. I trembled so much that my lipstick seemed to  smear all over my face.

I wasn't going to let it go like that, no, I was going to take what was mine. I got ready to pull her away, but then...

The voice of Carlos's beta, Bernardo, echoed with laughter:

“It's a shame that Carlos has already made plans with someone else... you two were perfect together.”

My body froze.

But before Carlos could respond, a woman's voice cut through the air.

“Luna... how different you look today. You look beautiful.”

It was Bernardo's partner, and all eyes turned to the door, including Carlos's.

For a moment, Maura froze. Her impeccable expression faltered before reappearing forced—and venomous.

“Yes, Camila looks really beautiful,” she said, with that little smile trembling at the corner of her mouth. “Wearing a sexy dress like that... it's not for everyone.”

The provocation came like a slap.

I took a deep breath. I prepared to respond, but...

A low growl escaped Carlos' throat.

The entire room fell silent.

Carlos moved away from Maura with a sharp movement. He crossed the room with his eyes fixed on me and stopped in front of my body as if... he wanted to hide me.

As if he wanted to cover up what the others were seeing.

“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly, tensely, his voice laden with something I couldn't decipher.

For a second, the old insecurity bit at my heels. The instinct to run away knocked on the door. But I stayed.

I lifted my chin.

“I thought today was the pack dinner... and, as Luna, I thought I had the right to be present.”

Surprise passed like a cloud over his face. But it soon disappeared. Carlos relaxed his shoulders, softened his expression—and said, more kindly:

“Of course. I only asked because you never like to come.”

Before I could say anything, he took off his own suit and placed it over my shoulders, slowly, as if the fabric could protect me from everything.

“It's cold. I don't want you to catch a cold.”

I looked at him.

And again I was overcome by that feeling... the certainty that he still loved me.

There he was. Caring. Protecting. Claiming.

Carlos turned back to the room and said loudly, firmly:

“We're leaving. See you tomorrow.”

And he didn't even give me time to react.

He took my hand and pulled me away from there. We passed the children's ward, he picked up Tiago as if nothing had happened, and we walked to the car.

I was smiling. Secure. Almost happy.

But then...

Bernardo's words echoed in my head again.

“Too bad Carlos made another appointment...”

I swallowed hard.

For the first time, I doubted what I wanted so badly to believe.

My smile faltered.

And inside my chest, something began to crumble—again.