Hyacinth
My fiancé, Alpha Rowan, hated waiting.
If a pack council ran late, he walked out. If a priest kept him waiting ten minutes, he canceled the blessing.
For six years, I made sure he never waited for me. I waited for him instead.
At the Full Moon Celebration, his assistant Celine wanted moon-laurel wine that was served only when the moon reached its highest point.
Rowan stood in line with her for twenty minutes without checking the time once.
While I watched from across the hall, he texted me.
[The celebration is over. Go home. Do not wait for me.]
I typed, “Okay,” then deleted it.
In the end, I sent only one sentence.
[I'm not waiting anymore.]
That night, I submitted my application to leave the Blood Moon Pack.
This time, I meant it.