Chapter 42: Realization
LUCIAN P.O.V.
The ache was unbearable. Three months had crawled by, each one more painful than the last, as if something was clawing at my chest from the inside. Rylan had warned me several times that breaking the mate bond was the deepest pain a werewolf could endure, but I hadn’t listened. I thought I could ignore it, bury it beneath my own trauma, the grief, the hatred I bore for my parents for taking away my childhood; it was a bitterness I wore like armor. But the emptiness she left behind was different. It was both physical and emotional, and it was slowly driving me to the edge. Now I could understand a bit how my father felt, although that didn’t excuse his actions.
I’d kept myself away from anything that had to do with Teresa, thinking I could move on, thinking that being with her would make me weak. But when the longing for her presence, even her voice became too sharp to ignore, I realized late that she didn’t make me weak, I did that to myself all alone. The saying: time heals all wounds was nothing but a big false. I thought adding a month to my two months of pain and longing would somehow help the pain be easier but if anything, it made it worse.
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Sitting in the packed dining hall, I couldn’t ignore the thick hum of voices around me, the low laughter echoing off the walls like they had the right to enjoy themselves. It wasn’t that they shouldn’t—it was that I couldn’t. Every laugh, every smile, each glimmer of contentment around me felt like a slap to my face. They all had lives that moved forward, that found joy, while mine remained locked in a cycle of anger and regret. I couldn’t even breathe well, let alone swallow my food and here they were laughing their hats off.
My fists clenched as another burst of laughter shattered my thin patience. I didn’t know whose laugh it was, didn’t care. It sounded so happy that the sound crawled under my skin, and before I knew it, I was on my feet, hand slamming onto the table hard enough that it shook. Heads whipped around, conversations died mid-sentence, and all eyes were on me in an instant.
I didn’t bother with pleasantries."What’s so funny?" I snapped, my voice a low growl. "Answer me! Is your life so perfect that you’ve got time to laugh at the misery of others?!"
The silence was thick, suffocating. I could see them shrinking under my gaze, feeling the weight of my anger, my authority. None of them dared meet my eyes. And yet, instead of satisfaction, all I felt was this deep, churning anger and shame. I didn’t wait for an answer. I didn’t need one. Instead, I turned on my heel and stumped out of the hall, leaving a stunned, silent pack in my absence.
The minute I reached my office, Rylan was right behind me, a shadow and a friend I didn’t deserve but had anyway. I threw myself into my chair, feeling the weight of guilt settle heavily onto my shoulders. It wasn’t their fault. They deserved their laughter, their moments of joy. I just...I couldn’t bear to be around it.
Rylan crossed his arms, looking at me with a familiar, assessing gaze. "Lucian," he started gently, "Are you...alright?"
I scoffed, looking away. "Do I look alright to you, Rylan?"