When he turned to her, I simply chose to leave

On the night of the pack's full moon gathering, my boyfriend Kyle Wilson walked toward Lina Morris for the ninety-ninth time in front of everyone.

He carried two drinks, handing one to her. Then he looked back at me.

"Why are you still standing there? Come here."

I froze, my nails digging into my palms.

That tone again. As if me standing there waiting for him was an unforgivable slowness.

Ever since Lina joined the pack six months ago, Kyle had never once approached me first in public.

The first time was at the pre-hunt toast. He was supposed to stand next to me to receive the elders' blessing, but his gaze went right over my shoulder to Lina.

"She's new here alone. We should take care of her."

So the couple's blessing became a trio's blessing, and the vows before the hunt turned into instructions for looking after the newcomer.

Then there was the border patrol mission. I twisted my ankle and asked him to pick me up. He said he was already in the western woods. "Lina thought she heard an intruder. I'm checking it out with her. Walk back yourself."

The next day, Lina posted a photo on social media — Kyle's jacket draped over her shoulders by a campfire. The caption read: "Feels good to be protected."

I scrolled down the comments and saw someone ask, "Isn't that Selina's boyfriend?"

Lina replied with an innocent emoji. "He's just being nice to the new girl."

Just being nice.

I let that one slide.

What really broke me was the night my fever hit 104°F. I called him, my voice barely a whisper. He paused for two seconds, then said, "It's Lina's first patrol tonight. I don't want her to feel lost. Drink some water and sleep it off."

At two in the morning, burning up and delirious, I crawled out of bed looking for medicine. The cabinet was empty. I sent him seventeen texts. I got one reply: "I'll take you to the hospital tomorrow."

The next day, he took Lina to the hospital. She had a stomachache.

I took a cab to the ER alone, so dehydrated the nurse asked if I had any family to call. I said no.

That was the moment I finally understood.

It wasn't that he wasn't attentive. It was that he didn't want to be attentive to me.

Now, watching him walk toward Lina without looking back, I turned away coldly and pushed open the doors of the gathering hall.

He had already forgotten.

Today was the day I moved out of the Wilson territory.

Since he chose to walk toward her, let him stay by her side forever.

I reached the parking lot. The moving truck's engine was already running.

"Ms. Brooks? Everything's loaded," the driver said.

I pulled open the door. My phone buzzed.

Kyle: Where'd you go? Don't wander off.

I stared at the message, my fingers trembling slightly.

I scrolled up. Our chat history was a wall of green on my side.

Kyle, are you coming home for dinner tonight?

Kyle, I made that roast you said you wanted.

Kyle, it's raining. Should I pick you up?

His replies were always short. Dismissive.

Working late.

Eat without me.

No need.

The longest message he'd ever sent was an order to help Lina move furniture: "You're free this afternoon, right? Go help Lina move her mattress. She can't do it alone."

I hadn't replied to that one.

Because that afternoon I had a doctor's appointment — my back injury had flared up again, and the doctor ordered bed rest.

But he didn't know that. Or rather, he'd never asked.

Now this "Where'd you go" wasn't concern. It was just him realizing the shadow that always followed him was gone.

Before I could reply, his next message appeared:

Stop by the supply store on your way back and pick up Lina's patrol gear. She didn't make the gathering. Drop it off for her.

I stared at both lines for a full ten seconds.

He wasn't suddenly worried about me.

He just needed someone to run errands.

I tossed my phone into my bag and said to the driver, "Let's go."

The truck rolled slowly out of the parking lot. The moonlight on the windshield was a sickly white.

As the truck left Wilson territory, tears finally fell.

Not from sadness. From relief.

Seven years.

I had loved Kyle Wilson for seven years.

I joined the pack for him. Learned to hunt for him. Endured the snide remarks of other she-wolves for him.

And at the end of it all, I meant less to him than a woman who'd been here six months.