chapter 5

Simona wanted to refuse, but it felt pointless.

She decided to let Dorian do whatever he wanted. She didn't feel like wasting words.

But he really didn't need to soothe her like this—his heart clearly belonged to Rowena, yet here he was, speaking to her with such false gentleness.

What was the point of this halfhearted warmth? If he truly cared about me, would he trample my dignity and let others ridicule me?

If he truly valued our fated bond, would he ignore my refusals and insist on bonding with Rowena instead?

Thinking this, Simona simply nodded. "Fine."

…

The next morning, when Simona woke, she was surprised to see Dorian in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

"Up already? Come on, I made you a seafood chowder. Once we finish, we can head to that wolf pack totem art exhibit."

Seeing her hesitate, he urged, "Why are you just standing there? Come sit."

"Dorian," Simona said softly, her voice clear and firm. "I'm allergic to seafood."

Dorian froze mid-motion, the ladle still in his hand, his expression blank.

After a moment, he hurriedly cleared the pot and dishes into the kitchen, his voice tinged with awkwardness. "Then… then how about some bread? There's toast and milk in the fridge."

"Fine."

Simona sat calmly at the table, watching him fumble with the toast. Years ago, when she had accidentally eaten seafood and broken out in hives, Dorian had stayed by her side at the hospital, taking care of her.

But the moment Rowena returned, all of that seemed forgotten.

In the past, he had more than once mistaken Rowena's preferences for hers. Back then, she would break down in tears, demanding, "Why don't you care about my feelings? Is Rowena really that important to you? We're supposed to be fated mates!"

But now, not even a flicker of emotion remained.

She didn't even bother thinking about how many times he had cooked for Rowena over the past days—after all, according to his "Mate Journal," Rowena's favorite food was, unsurprisingly, seafood crowder.

Clearly, he had prepared it so often that making it for breakfast was now second nature.

During breakfast, Dorian's communicator buzzed at least five times.

"Aren't you going to answer?" Simona asked calmly, looking up at him.

Clutching the communicator, Dorian's eyes flickered with inner struggle. "I told you yesterday—I'm spending today with you."

Simona's expression remained serene. "Go ahead and answer. What if it's urgent?"

Dorian seemed relieved and immediately answered the call.

In the quiet living room, Rowena's voice, trembling with sobs, came through the communicator. "Dorian… I'm so useless… I tried to make you breakfast, and I burned my hand. It hurts so much…"

Simona didn't want to listen to their sappy drama. She got up, cleared her dishes, and went to the kitchen to wash them and rinse her hands under the faucet.

When she came out, drying her hands, she saw Dorian standing in the doorway, fidgeting nervously.

She smiled faintly. "Go. I'm not really in the mood to go out today anyway."

"I'm sorry, Simona," Dorian said, his tone apologetic. "Rowena's never really cooked before. She got scared when she burned her hand, so I just went to check on her. I'll be back in no time."

He paused, then added, "If you don't want to go out when I get back, I can stay home with you. How about that?"

Seeing the hesitation and guilt in his eyes, Simona nodded. "Fine, go take care of it. Oh, and bring that seafood chowder with you."

Dorian looked up sharply, surprised at her calm, unreadable expression. For a moment, he couldn't find the words.

Simona added, "Isn't it her favorite? Don't let it go to waste."

A flash of panic crossed Dorian's face, and he asked instinctively, "Simona… how did you know Rowena likes seafood chowder?"

Simona smirked inwardly. Of course, I had seen it in your "Mate Journal."

Outwardly, she smiled and said lightly, "Really? I was just guessing. Lots of people like it."

She nudged him toward the door. "Go on. I still have some tidying up to do at home."

Dorian's wolf, Ron, spoke in his mind. "She's finally understood it after all this time. This is how a future Luna should be—measured and sensible, not causing trouble. Let's go.

"Rowena is still waiting, and her time is running out. We'll grant her wish first. Once she's gone, you can hold a proper bonding ceremony with Simona. Nothing will be delayed."

Reassured by Ron's words, Dorian exhaled and quickly packed the chowder. Before leaving, he glanced back and said, "I'll be back soon."

Simona waved, but as the door closed, her smile faded.

She still had more to sort.

Six years of living here had accumulated far more belongings than she imagined. Even after two large boxes were thrown out yesterday, the apartment still felt full.

Rolling up her sleeves, she went from the bedroom to the balcony, carefully sifting through items connected to Dorian—matching's wolf-pattern bowls, embroidered pillows with their names, the first pheromone calming blanket he had given her…

By midday, two more large boxes were packed.

She kept only the essentials, planning to discard them when she left Ironclaw Pack. The rest, she carried downstairs and tossed into the dumpster outside.

Just as she turned to head back upstairs, a familiar voice called behind her. "Simona, what did you throw away? Two huge boxes? Why didn't you wait for me to carry them?"