Chapter 3
When Bran left, I ordered emergency
crates online. At dawn, I entered his study, taking the last thing I bought for him–a wolf–patterned blanket.
The moving crew arrived quickly, only to be blocked by Elena at the door.
“Leaving already? That’s it?” she sneered.
I shot her a glare, telling her to move. She stepped inside, surveying the place like a queen.
“You’re not planning to empty Bran’s house, are you? Anything that’s not yours, leave it.”
She ripped open the crate, dumping its contents onto the floor–an old compass, a
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cracked watch, and scattered sketches of hunting maps.
“These are mine. Stay out of it.” I shoved her aside and bent to gather them, only for her to kick them further away.
“Yours?” She smirked.
“Women like you never leave empty–handed after splitting with someone wealthy. You paid for these? As if.”
She’d forgotten she was the one who fled when Bran’s pack hit rock bottom. Now, with Silvermoon thriving, all she saw was his glory, forgetting who stood by him in the ashes.
Anger surged. I shoved her against the wall.
Heavy footsteps approached, and a strong
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grip wrenched my arm.
Elena teared up instantly, her voice trembling.
“Bran, don’t blame her. I was just worried she might take your things and asked too many questions…”
Bran sighed.
“Laura, what are you doing this early? Can’t you let me have some peace?”
I didn’t want to care anymore, but his scolding still stung like a claw to my chest.
Keeping my tone steady, I replied, “I’m leaving and taking what’s mine. Is that a problem?”
Bran hesitated.
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Then, like a storm cloud about to break, he growled, “Stop playing games. Don’t joke about breaking up.”
Elena, clutching her head dramatically, whimpered.
“Bran, I’m feeling dizzy. Could you take me to the hospital?”
Without hesitation, he swept her into his arms and left.
The house fell silent.
Back at my small, rented apartment, I discarded everything unnecessary, paying extra for the movers to dispose of the rest.
Before they left, one of the workers hesitated at the door.
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“Miss, be careful who you trust next time.”
Even an outsider could see Bran wasn’t worth it.
Yet I’d wasted the best years of my life on him.
Half a month later, my phone rang. It was a friend.
“Hey, I heard you and Bran broke up?”
I nodded.
“You chased him for so long. Just like that, you’re done?” she teased.
I chuckled.
“I once left him a perfectly roasted deer
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flank. He gave it all to Elena. What else was I supposed to do–eat the scraps?”
Her laughter was cut short by a low, familiar growl.
“You told me you weren’t hungry.” Bran’s voice snapped through the line.
My heart clenched, but I masked it with indifference.
“What do you want, Bran?”
A pause.
then, s
“I just wanted to ask… Where did you put my old talisman? My head’s killing me…”
Bran’s headaches were a lingering curse, a pain like claws raking through his skull.
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I told him it was on the fireplace mantel.
He grumbled.
“Next time, don’t move it. It’s important. You should’ve thought of that.”
This wasn’t the first time.
He’d scolded me before for shifting it, saying it should always be in its rightful place.
I hung up mid–sentence, severing the connection.
Then I quietly removed that “NAME” from my life, too.
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