Alpha, Let's End This Bond!

- Luca

Aria stumbled back, rubbing her wrist and clutching her pale face.

"I've been serious," she replied calmly. "You just never cared to listen."

Those words cut deep, sharper than claws.

She walked past me, grabbing her pillow from the bed.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm sleeping in the guest room."

"No," I snapped. "You're not."

She blinked. "We don't need to share a room, Luca."

"We're married."

She let out a dry, tiny laugh. "Are we? Because it hasn't felt like it in a long time."

"Aria-"

"I'm not staying here tonight."

It pissed me off more because I could see it-she was done with me. She had even made careful plans and calculations.

It made me more furious as I had no idea how long she'd been planning all this.

"Aria, we can talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," she said softly. "You don't love me. You don't even like me most days."

"That's not-"

"And that's fine," she cut in. "But I'm not staying trapped like this. I'm tired."

She moved past me, still clutching the pillow tightly. "I'm sleeping in the guest room."

"Aria."

She paused at the doorway, just for a breath, just long enough to look back at me.

Her eyes weren't angry, just completely worn out.

"I don't want to fight anymore," she murmured. "Goodnight, Luca."

Then she disappeared down the hall.

I stood there in our bedroom, in the cold quiet she left behind, feeling that hollow ache expand in my chest.

My mate was slipping away.

And for the first damn time.

I realized I didn't want to let her go.

But I didn't go after her right away.

I stood in the dark hallway like an idiot, breathing hard, trying to decide if I should let her cool off. or drag her back into the room and finish this fight before it rotted between us.

But Aria never let things rot.

She walked away before I even knew there was a problem.

I exhaled sharply and followed her.

She was in the guest room, pulling a blanket out of the cabinet like she was used to this-like this wasn't the first time she'd packed her things and gone.

"Aria," I said from the doorway.

She didn't turn. "Don't start."

That hit harder than it should have.

So I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. "No. We should really talk."

Her shoulders tensed. "We already did."

"Not enough."

She tossed the blanket on the bed. "Luca, I'm tired. I want to sleep."

I wasn't letting her escape this time.

"Who were you talking to?" I asked.

Her head snapped toward me. "Are we seriously doing this?"

"Yeah," I said, heat rising up my neck. "We are."

She crossed her arms. "It was Nova."

"Sounded like more than Nova."

The words came out before I could stop them.

Her jaw literally dropped. "Excuse me?"

"You've been acting weird," I said. "Avoiding me. Smiling at your phone like-"

"Like what?" she shot back. "Like someone actually makes me feel human for five minutes a day?"

That stung.

She didn't stop. "You think I'm cheating on you? Is that it?"

I clenched my teeth. "I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

"I asked a question."

"You accused me," she corrected sharply. "Because in your head, I can't want a divorce unless I already have someone else lined up. Right?"

She wasn't wrong.

But I hated hearing it out loud.

"That's not what I-"

"Because spirits forbid I'm leaving you," she said, her voice shaking with anger, "simply because I don't want to die slowly in a marriage where you look through me like I'm air."

I stepped forward. "Aria-"

"You're not suffering?" she cut in. "You're miserable too, Luca. You think I don't see it? You think I want to trap you? You think I enjoy this?"

My chest tightened. "Then why leave now?"

"Because we're hurting each other," she said, and her voice cracked just a bit. "Because I'm so tired. Because staying feels worse than leaving."

Something ugly curled in my throat. "Yeah? And that's why you're suddenly looking for apartments? Jobs? A new life? A new man?"

"Luca!" she shouted. "Stop putting a man in this! I just want my life back!"

We stared at each other, both breathing hard.

She was the first to look away.

I hated how she shrank back, acting like I was about to break her.

"So," I said quietly, "all of this. it goes back to the pregnancy, doesn't it?"

Aria froze.

Yeah. There it was.

"That night," I said, voice rough, "you told me you took the morning-after pill. But you got pregnant anyway. That's why you think I blame you."

She turned slowly, eyes sharp. "Luca, I... took... that... damn... pill."

"I know you said-"

"I did," she insisted. "I walked to the bathroom myself. I swallowed it. And I still got pregnant. No scheme. I didn't set you up, and I didn't force anything."

Her voice cracked, as if releasing all the hurt she'd been holding in for ages.

"And you," she whispered, "spent months avoiding me like I'd stolen something from you."

I closed my eyes for a second as guilt punched me right in the stomach.

"I didn't know what to do," I admitted. "I didn't know how to deal with everything. I messed up."

"That's an understatement," she said softly.

Silence stretched between us.

I took a breath. "Last night. did you take it again?"

Her brows pulled together. "What?"

"The pill."

Her expression shifted, pain flashing before she hid it again. "No."

My stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't take it this time," she muttered. "Because I'm still breastfeeding. The hormones mess with my cycle. It's not recommended."

I blinked. "So you might be-"

"Pregnant?" she finished for me. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not."

Her last words cracked a little, and something in my chest tightened.

She shook her head. "I'm done fighting for now. Just let me sleep here."

"I don't want you in a separate room," I muttered.

"And I don't want to sleep next to a man who thinks I have another lover."

That shut me up fast.

She turned her back and pulled the blanket over herself.

I stood there for a long moment, swallowing the frustration, the panic, the stupid hurt clawing up my throat.

Then I backed toward the door.

"I wasn't accusing you," I said quietly.

She remained silent.

"I just. didn't like the way you smiled at your phone," I admitted.

She didn't turn or make a sound. She just curled up on the guest bed like that's exactly where she belonged.

I stepped into the hallway.

The silence hit me like a wall.

An ugly truth started to scream in my head.

Divorce? Absolutely not. She's not going anywhere.

And I especially didn't want anyone else making her smile the way she smiled tonight.

I closed the door gently behind me, then leaned my forehead against the cool wood.

"I'm losing her," I muttered under my breath.

And for the first time in a long time.

I felt genuinely afraid.