Chapter 3 The Silence Between Us

Elena's POV

The morning after was strangely quiet.

I woke up in the large, empty bed I shared with Damien, only to find the other side untouched. He hadn't come in. Or maybe... he had, and left before I opened my eyes.

The space he usually occupied still smelled faintly like cedar and winter mint. But it felt colder now - like even his scent didn't want to linger too long around me.

I sat up slowly, the edge of the duvet bunching around my waist. My hand instinctively moved to my stomach, resting gently there. The baby was still so small. I hadn't told anyone yet. Not even him.

Especially not him.

I padded barefoot into the bathroom and let the water run until the mirror fogged over. As the steam curled around my skin, I closed my eyes and tried to wash away the ache in my chest. But no amount of soap or heat could remove the feeling of being slowly erased in my own home.

After dressing, I walked downstairs to find the dining table already set. Two plates. Warm food. And voices - soft ones - coming from the sunroom.

I didn't need to guess.

I moved quietly until I could see them through the archway. Vivian sat curled up on the chaise lounge, wearing a silk robe that looked far too familiar - one of mine. The pale pink one from the Lunar Market, the one Damien had picked out last year on our trip.

She wore it like it belonged to her.

Damien stood nearby, his back to me, pouring tea into a delicate porcelain cup. He handed it to her gently, and she smiled like they shared a secret.

I stood there in silence, unseen. Unwanted.

Until she spotted me.

"Oh! Elena," she chirped, like we were old friends. "I didn't hear you come in."

She sipped her tea, smiling behind the rim of the cup.

Damien turned, his eyes flickering in surprise.

"You're up early," he said.

"I live here," I replied, voice flat.

An awkward silence filled the space. Only the clink of Vivian's spoon in her cup dared to make a sound.

"I hope it's alright," she said sweetly, gesturing at her robe. "I didn't have anything cozy to sleep in last night. I found this in the wardrobe and figured it was just an old extra."

I said nothing.

Because what could I say?

I just looked at Damien. His mouth opened slightly like he wanted to defend her... or me... or neither.

"I was just going to head into the restaurant," I said instead, stepping back into the hallway.

"Wait," he said. "I wanted to talk."

I paused.

Vivian stayed seated, watching.

I turned slightly toward him. "Talk, then."

He hesitated. "I know yesterday was... strange. I should've prepared you better. Vivian's return caught me off guard too."

"Then why does it feel like she's always belonged here?" I asked.

He looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. "She doesn't. She's just here until she finds her footing."

"Funny," I said. "She's already taken my robe and my breakfast. At this rate, the Luna title might be next."

His eyes lifted sharply. "That's not fair."

"No," I whispered. "It's not."

I left before he could respond.

---

Back at Ember Flame, the world made sense again.

The sound of chopping, the scent of herbs, the rhythm of my team's movements. It grounded me.

For a while, at least.

Miriam stopped by my office during lunch rush with her clipboard, eyebrows raised. "You look like you haven't slept."

I smiled weakly. "Didn't."

"You want a coffee or a one-way ticket to the moon?"

"Both."

She snorted, then set a folder on my desk. "Reminder - the Culinary Council wants your final decision by tomorrow. You're one of five chosen for the Alpha Dominion Apprenticeship. That's not something you throw away."

I nodded, but my eyes lingered on the corner of the desk - on the tiny ultrasound photo I had hidden under a paperweight.

I wasn't ready to decide anything.

---

That evening, when I returned home, the front hallway smelled different. Sweet. Like vanilla, peonies, and something else I couldn't name.

Vivian's scent.

There were shoes by the door that weren't mine. A pink sweater tossed lazily on the armrest. And the bookshelf in the hallway - the one where I kept old pack history scrolls - now had a framed photo of Damien and Vivian when they were teens.

The picture wasn't there yesterday.

I stood frozen, one hand resting against the wall. My chest ached with the sudden, sharp realization:

She wasn't staying here.

She was settling in.

I walked upstairs without saying a word. Damien wasn't home yet. Good. I didn't think I could face him without breaking something - a glass, the silence, or my heart.

I shut the bedroom door and pulled the curtains.

I didn't want to see the moon tonight.