I didn’t respond. He muttered something about going to the bathroom and said we’d leave together after, but I hardly heard him. His phone buzzed, lighting up the desk beside me. A message from Fiona flashed across the screen:
You silly! Sending me a lot of milk teas at once! Trying to make me fat, huh?
I stared at the screen for a moment, then turned my attention back to my computer, my heart ice cold.
When we got home, I went straight to the bedroom and started packing. I wasn’t staying here any longer. Ethan came in, freshly showered, and noticed the changes immediately—my things missing from their usual places.
He frowned but didn’t ask. “Hey, I’m going to Paris for a business trip next month. If you want anything, just make a list.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Nah, I don’t need anything.”
He dropped his towel onto the bed, a chill entering his voice. "What’s wrong? You mad because I bought you the wrong ?"
I blinked at him, confused, but before I could respond, he scoffed. “You know I can’t stand women being dramatic. Skylar, you’re being ridiculous. It's just a milk tea.”
That old, familiar disgust was in his eyes. The same look he gave me when I showed the slightest hint of emotion. Without waiting for an answer, he stormed out, slamming the door to his study behind him.
Seven years. Seven years of silent treatments, of me always apologizing, groveling to make things right. But this time, I wasn’t going to do that. I cocked an eyebrow, switched off the bedside lamp, and didn’t knock on the study door.
The next morning, I made breakfast as usual, ate alone, and got ready to leave for work. Ethan came out of his study, still on his phone, barely sparing me a glance.
“Take the day off,” he ordered, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “I need you to make me an identical fondant cake by 5 p.m.”
I stared at him, the absurdity of it almost making me laugh. There I was, trying to hold my world together, and he was focused on some cake.
I lost my child, the future Alpha of this pack, and yet, he didn't care that much.
So, I gave a noncommittal nod, but my mind was already elsewhere.
Ethan was still lost in his phone as he turned away, probably messaging Fiona.
I was leaving. Soon. I wouldn’t have to pretend anymore.