I turn on my heel and step toward the bathroom door, my wolf howling in protest. At the threshold, I pause, some part of me hoping she’ll call out to me, that she’ll show even the smallest sign that this indifference is merely an act.
But when I glance over my shoulder, she has already turned away from me, struggling with the tangled curtain as if I have ceased to exist entirely.
The main room feels suffocating as I cross it in quick strides. My hand is on the door handle when I hear her voice, so quiet that I almost miss it.
“Close the door behind you.”
Not a request. A dismissal.
I step into the hallway and pull the door shut with more force than necessary. The sound echoes in the empty corridor like a gunshot.
My wolf is frantic now, pacing and whining, unable to understand why ou
