2:41 pm
3
Leaving wasn’t a snap decision–it was the slow unraveling of years spent in quiet agony., gradual erosion of trust built on moments I tried to dismiss, on hopes I desperately clung to. kept telling myself he’d come back to me. That the way he looked at Marcella wasn’t what seemed. That his attention would eventually return to where it belonged–with me. But dee down, I knew I was only fooling myself.
Every stolen glance between them, every time he stood by her side instead of mine, chipper away at the love I had for him. I watched myself shrink in the space where I once stood proudl as his mate. I remained quiet, watching the man who vowed to protect and cherish me give th best parts of himself to someone else. For so long, I had refused to see the truth. I believed th strength of our bond would be enough. But it wasn’t.
The night of the attack forced me to look at reality without the veil of denial. What I witnesse then couldn’t be undone. That single moment confirmed what I had been unwilling to accept fo years: Martin had already left me in every way that mattered. The only thing still binding us wa memory–and even that was fading.
I sat in our room that evening, beside the wide window where moonlight spilled across the floo My eyes drifted over the shadows, but all I could see were the memories. Not of one majo betrayal, but of countless tiny ones. Little things that added up until I could no longer carry thei weight.
It began slowly, almost innocently. Marcella was a newcomer then, the daughter of anothe pack’s Alpha. Martin had welcomed her with the kind of attentiveness he’d once reserved for me I brushed it off, telling myself it was part of his duty–diplomatic courtesy, nothing more.
But then came the nights he didn’t show up for dinner. The mornings I found them training alone laughing like old friends while I lingered in the background. Meetings that were postponed o forgotten altogether, replaced with vague reasons involving “pack strategy” or “inter–pack relations.” Each excuse gave me another reason to swallow my disappointment. Each time, I tol myself this was temporary. That he still loved me. That I was overreacting.
But that lie shattered during the ambush.
In the middle of chaos, instinct should have guided him. And his instinct drove him toward her Not me. Not the Luna. Not the mother of his unborn child. He didn’t even glance in my direction He didn’t hesitate. His choice in that moment said everything. And something in me–something vital–fractured.
I understood then that I had become background noise to him. A presence, a duty, but no longe a priority.
Now, seated in silence and staring at the half–packed bag on the floor, I knew what I had to do. couldn’t keep surviving in a space where I was invisible. Where love was an afterthought and loyalty a fading promise.
I moved toward the desk, my footsteps muffled by the thick rug beneath my feet. My chest ached, but it wasn’t grief anymore–it was clarity. Strange, how that realization brought a sense of freedom. Not peace, exactly. But release.
With a trembling hand, I picked up the pen. The blank paper before me seemed to mock the
212
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2:41 pm D
years I’d spent trying to fix something that was already broken. What words could ever express the quiet devastation of being forgotten?
Still, I wrote.
Martin,
spent so long holding on, believing we could find our way back. That all this–your distance, your silence, your choices–were temporary. I convinced myself that your heart still belonged to ne, even when all the signs pointed elsewhere.
But it’s clear now. You’ve been slipping away from me for years. And I’ve let it happen, telling nyself that love meant patience. That it meant staying, even when staying hurt.
know now that love doesn’t mean becoming invisible. It doesn’t mean standing in the shadow of another woman while my mate looks through me like I was never there. You’ve chosen Marcella in ways you won’t admit. And maybe you think you haven’t. Maybe you’ll deny it. But
‘ve seen the truth in your actions.
can’t continue to exist in this bond, not like this. Not when it’s one–sided. I deserve to be seen.
To be valued.
This is where I end it.
-Ella
signed it with steady hands, my decision made. There was no turning back now. And for the irst time in a long while, I wasn’t afraid.
