The sharpness in my tone makes them both go quiet.
"We'll get through this," Tyler says eventually.
I want to believe him. Can't quite manage it.
Three days pass.
Day one: Greenhouse. I wait for two hours. He never shows. His usual spot by the east window stays empty.
Day two: Dining hall. He's there but might as well be a ghost. Sits three tables away, won't look at us, leaves the moment Tyler approaches. Julian watches him go, jaw tight.
Day three: Class. Calder in the back row instead of near me. Maximum distance. He leaves the second Professor Reed dismisses us. I try to catch him but he's too fast.
The pattern repeats.
I'm not sleeping well. Lila notices, leaves tea outside my door with notes that sayI'm here if you need me.
My appetite is gone. Julian notices, tries to manage it with protein bars and concerned looks that I avoid.
Heat symptoms are intensifying. My body stressed by emotional turmoil, scent shifting in ways that make other students give me more space than usual. Distress markers bleeding through despite my attempts at control.
Tyler and Julian close ranks around me. More attentive, more protective. But they can't fill the Calder-shaped hole in our pack.
Every day I think maybe today he'll come back.
Every day hope wears a little thinner.
End of the week finds me alone in the greenhouse.
Working mechanically, repotting winter herbs that don't really need it, trimming plants that are fine, staying busy to avoid thinking.
It's not working.
Heat's a week away now. Maybe less. I need to decide what I want. Alone or with pack. Except the pack feels fractured and I don't know how to want something that might not exist anymore.
The door opens.
Lila. She takes one look at me and her expression softens. "Oh, honey."
I don't realize I'm crying until she's there, arms around me, holding while I break.
"I thought we were strong enough," I manage between sobs.
"You are. He's just scared."
She stays with me while I cry myself out. Doesn't offer platitudes or false hope. Just presence, solid and real. Even when she starts sniffling with her allergies.
"What am I supposed to do?" I ask when I can speak again. "I wanted all three of them. For everything." My voice breaks.
"You can't put your life on hold waiting for him to figure his shit out."
"I don't want to give up on him."
"Not giving up. Just... deciding what you need. With or without him."
The grief hits fresh. Not just losing Calder. Losing the version of pack I imagined—three alphas who coordinated, who chose me together, who built something new.
That might be gone.
