Without looking up, he waved a hand as if swatting away an insect. “Do as you wish,” he muttered, eyes never leaving the screen.
I drew in a deep breath, forcing myself forward. “And since I’ll be gone for a while…what about dissolving our bond?”
I expected him to pause, to glance at me, perhaps ask why. But he didn’t even flinch.
“No problem,” he murmured, still scrolling, utterly indifferent.
A mixture of relief and sorrow washed over me. There it was: the undeniable truth that I had been nothing in his life, a fixture easily removed.
He hadn’t noticed I had ceased preparing his things, or drawing his baths, handing all tasks to the den staff instead. The demands he once placed on me had vanished, and he hadn’t even blinked.
“Very well,” I said, pushing back my chair. My breakfast sat untouched. I could no longer summon an appetite.
My eyes fell on his communicator, glowing with a message thread labeled “My Lily.” The name burned like a brand—everything in his world, his devotion, his loyalty, it all belonged to her.
A call came through, and he answered without hesitation. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he said, voice smooth, obedient, entirely devoted.