Chapter 129
Chapter 129
Trista’s POV
The following night, in France, after a long, grueling day at the healing center, I walked back to my apartment alone.
Finished
The night wind brushed against my neck; I instinctively pulled up my scarf, as if trying to shield myself from a certain hollowness.
Today was my birthday.
I’d been on the phone with my parents the entire walk back.
They had said, “We’ll let you go now,” several times, but they clearly couldn’t bring themselves to actually hang up.
Their voices were careful, as if they were afraid one wrong word would cause me to collapse here in the night of a foreign land.
That restrained concern made my eyes sting.
I suddenly felt homesick–a sharp, physical ache in my chest.
I forced my tone to stay light, like I was recounting the most mundane detail. “Mom, Dad, my colleagues already celebrated with me. Don’t worry. I’ll be back by the end of the year p>
The moment the screen went dark, a piece of my heart went with it.
In the past, my birthdays were never quiet.
Because my birthday is November 8th and Cassian’s is October 28th.
I’m a November Scorpio, and he’s an October Scorpio.
Cassian hated socializing and almost never celebrated his birthday, so from the time I was a teenager, I would drag him into my celebrations. I insisted he blow out the candles and make a wish with me.
Gradually, everyone around us assumed the same–we shared a zodiac sign, and we always spent our birthdays together.
Now, that “assumption” felt like a thin layer of sugar coating; once the sweetness dissolved, the bitterness underneath was razor–sharp.
Back in the apartment, I washed my hands and went into the kitchen to fix a simple birthday snack.
Suddenly, the comm–stone flickered to life.
It was a message from Cassian.
Only two words, “Open up p>
I stared at the text, my hands freezing mid–motion.
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My fingertips were still wet, the cold water clinging to my skin, but it couldn’t dampen the sudden heat surging in my chest.
I knew Cassian too well.
He did everything with a clear objective; he never wasted energy on “meaningless tenderness p>
I had already submitted my evidence to the Werewolf Council’s arbitration office. Once the process started, the next hearing would be scheduled soon.
There could only be one reason Cassian flew to France in the middle of the night: he wanted to suppress the fallout. He wanted to keep this termination dispute within the Ironthorn borders–at least until the Shadowfang deal was signed. He wouldn’t allow any scandal to leak, and he certainly wouldn’t let his beloved she–wolf’s name be dragged into the Council’s permanent records.
I stood there for a few seconds, using my logic to crush that message.
Then, I left the kitchen, turned off every light in the apartment, and went to my bedroom.
I thought that if I just didn’t respond, he would retreat silently, just like he had for the past three years.
Cassian was used to being in control; he was used to pulling back his hand when it was no longer needed. He never stayed where he wasn’t certain of his welcome.
But the stone buzzed again.
It was a female colleague from next door. She asked if I was home, saying someone was downstairs looking for me.
I sat silently on the edge of the bed for a long time, my chest tightening as if an invisible hand were slowly squeezing it.
My wolf stirred beneath my skin, letting out a low whine of resistance. It didn’t want to be near that scent; it didn’t want to be dragged by that mangled mating bond anymore.
That bond hadn’t been whole for a long time.
It was still there, but it felt like a fractured chain–a reminder of who I used to belong to, and who had abandoned me.
Still, I got up and walked to the door.
Everyone in this building worked at the healing center.
It was late; I couldn’t let my private drama affect my colleagues.
Besides I wasn’t the one in the wrong. Running away wouldn’t solve anything.
I took a deep breath and opened the door.
The next second, I collided with Cassian’s deep, searching gaze.
My breath hitched.
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The jagged bond felt violently yanked. The pain radiated from my chest all the way to the scent gland on my neck. My wolf was forced awake, my pores tightening, nearly raising invisible hackles beneath my skin.
I hated that.
I had left him; I had decided on the termination. Yet my wolf still remembered his scent–remembered the old ache of being marked.
We stared at each other in silence.
The girl who used to be bubbly and clingy, who couldn’t stop talking whenever she saw him, was now standing silently inside the door.
And the man who used to be stoic and cold, who was always passive and distant, was now standing outside holding a cake.
One inside. One outside.
He looked at me and said softly, “Happy birthday p>
My gaze traveled down to the cake in his hands.
He followed my eyes, glancing at the box as if confirming the contents were still intact.
In that instant, images of the seaside, flowers, fireworks, and blueberry cake flooded back like a tide.
I didn’t even need to try to remember the details; the look of triumph on Samantha’s face played on a loop in my head.
My heart felt like it was being wrenched. My fingertips went numb, and my throat tightened.
Cassian spoke, his tone so gentle it felt like he was performing a late act of compensation. “Your favorite matcha cake. I brought it specifically for you from LA p>
I looked at him, my face becoming a mask of stone. I pointed toward the hallway, my voice as cold as a blade against bone. “Take the cake and get out p>
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Sara Lili
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.