Once inside, I took a hot shower, trying to wash away the lingering chill. Wrapped in a towel, I sat on the edge of my bed and scrolled through my social media. Tracy’s latest tweet appeared on my feed, accompanied by a picture. It showed Roan sitting beside her and her child, their faces illuminated by the warm, golden light of their room. The scene was a striking contrast to the cold rain outside, a painful reminder of the life he chose to share with them over me.
The next morning dragged on as I waited for my mate to return home. When he finally did, he launched into an explanation immediately, his voice laden with exhaustion and concern. "Tricia had a high fever all night. It wouldn't go down."
"Is everything okay now?" I asked, trying to maintain a semblance of interest. The name 'Tricia' felt foreign and unwelcome in my ears. Yet, I knew that she was Tracy's daughter.
Funny how my mate cared about another woman's child better than his mate.
He paused mid-motion, annoyance flickering across his features. "Are you being sarcastic again?" His sigh was heavy with weariness, whether genuine or feigned, I couldn't discern. "Look, I didn't sleep all night. I'm very tired."