The Love That Slips Away Slowly

 

I couldn't stop staring at that message from the hospital.

“Dr. Rodrigo Sales requests that you come in as soon as possible to discuss your test results.”

Formal. Cold. But there was something about that urgency that turned my stomach.

I took a deep breath and put my phone in the dresser drawer. I wasn't going to freak out prematurely. Not again. Not today.

I went to the bathroom, washed my face, tied my hair back, and forced a smile in the mirror. It was just another morning. Tiago needed me to be present, not broken.

When I opened his bedroom door, I found the uniform war already underway.

“I don't want this shirt! It itches!” He threw it on the bed, wrinkling his nose.

“It's for school, sweetie. Come on, Aunt Gloria is already making your snack.” I pulled the shirt back and bent down to help him put it on.

He let me, sulking. And while I adjusted the collar, I tried to sound casual:

“Did you enjoy playing with Daddy's friend yesterday?”

“With Aunt Maura?” — he lit up as if he were talking about the tooth fairy. “She's sooo cool, Mom! She knows how to play that dragon game! And she has a giant tablet! She let me play several levels.”

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.

“She's pretty, isn't she?” I tried to smile, running my hand through his soft hair.

Tiago walked away with a serious expression, fixing his tiny tuft of hair.

“Aunt Maura said that handsome boys always have to be well-groomed. You're not supposed to mess up your hair.”

My chest tightened. He was repeating it.

“Do you think I'm pretty, son?”

He paused, thought, and made that know-it-all face that only six-year-olds can make.

“I do, Mom. But... you should dress like Aunt Maura. She wears pretty clothes, girl clothes. You wear... grandma clothes.”

It was as if he had thrown a bucket of cold water right on my chest. It wasn't malice, it was just childish sincerity. But it burned as if it were the absolute truth.

“Really?” I smiled, trying to sound lighthearted. “Then I'll show you that your mom can be pretty, okay?”

“Okay.” He shrugged, already distracted by the sneakers he was trying to put on wrong.

I helped him, kissed him on the top of his head—this time without trying to mess up his hair—and we left together.

In the car, he sang softly a song from his favorite cartoon. I held my cell phone tightly in my lap, as if that would prevent something bad from waiting for me at the hospital.

“Be nice at school, okay?” I said when I left him at the door with the teacher.

“Okay! Bye, Mom!” He ran without looking back.

I got back in the car, and before the driver could ask, I said straight away:

“Take me to the hospital.”

I needed to face what Dr. Rodrigo had to tell me. And quickly. Because if I didn't face it soon... I would end up exploding on the wrong side of the story.

Tiago's voice still echoed inside me when I got in the car. “You dress like an old woman.”

What child says that to their own mother? And on top of that, comparing her... to Maura.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I tried to swallow that sentence along with the lump in my throat, but it came back, hammering away.

Maura was “cool,” “pretty,” “played games.” And me? I was the one who told him to brush his teeth, make his bed, do his homework.

The boring one.

The one who had grown old.

I looked away at my reflection in the car window.

Beige midi skirt, blue turtleneck, hair tied in a loose bun because I didn't even have the patience to brush it.

I looked exactly like the kind of woman who dresses to look older—discreet, conservative, dull. Even I didn't recognize myself anymore.

It had been a long time since I had worn anything that really flattered me. And before...

Before Carlos, my wardrobe was different. Short, tight, daring—but he hated it. He said I didn't need to show off, that my beauty was his alone.

Little by little, I changed my clothes. Then my tone of voice. Then my perfume. Then myself.

The car stopped. The hospital.

I took a deep breath, adjusted myself in the seat, and went inside.

The receptionist recognized me right away. “Dr. Rodrigo will see you right away, Luna.” Her tone wasn't disrespectful, but it wasn't reverent either.

It was... too polite. Like someone who knows my crown has fallen, but still calls me majesty just to be polite.

I was led to the same room as before. The door closed behind me, and there he was.

Rodrigo Sales.

Tall, firm posture, dress shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders. His eyes were too dark for someone who was just supposed to be informing me of test results. When he looked at me, I felt a chill that shouldn't have been there. I swallowed hard and set my jaw.

“Has the injection arrived yet?”

I didn't want to chat, I just wanted to get it over with.

He looked away. “No. But I have something very serious to tell you, Camila.”

Camila. Again. No title.

Everyone now seemed to forget that I was Luna. The Alpha's mate.

His woman.

I widened my eyes and corrected him dryly:

“Luna Camila.”

He stared at me. And then, for the first time, he hesitated.

“Really?”

My heart skipped a beat.

“What do you mean by that?”

Rodrigo took a step back, softening his expression. “I'm sorry, Luna. I didn't mean to be disrespectful. It's just that... I consulted a bonding specialist. Your case intrigued me.”

I crossed my arms, irritated. “My case is simple. I just need the damn injection.”

“It's not that simple.”

His voice dropped a tone. Almost a lament.

“The specialist said that this situation only happens in two cases: clear rejection of the bond... or an unconsummated bond.”

I rolled my eyes and snorted. “Of course it was consummated. I was marked. Everyone knows that.”

“Did you see him mark you?”

The question hit me hard.

“What?”

“Did you see the teeth? Did you feel the bond exploding inside you? Did you feel the pain, the connection?”

His voice was firm. Medical. But also... personal.

My throat closed up.

“I... I had a little to drink that night.” Damn. Why was I telling him this?

“I was nervous. Everything was so intense. We... we made love. I passed out. When I woke up, he said he had already marked me.”

Rodrigo said nothing. He just looked at my neck.

I covered it with my hand, instinctively.

“Some marks aren't visible.”

My voice came out weak.

“Yeah.” He agreed, tense. “But the question remains: did Alpha Carlos really mark you? Or did you just believe he did?”

My head throbbed. His words hit me like shots inside my skull. The ground moved away. I felt like I was falling into an abyss, with nothing to hold on to. It was as if someone had ripped the truth from under my skin.

Rodrigo muttered a curse under his breath.

I looked up, trying to decipher what was coming next.

But inside, I already knew.

My body knew before my mind accepted it. A chill ran up my spine, cutting like sharp ice. Everything was about to fall apart—and all I could do was hold my breath, trying not to collapse right there.