Not Yours to Ignore
1072 Words
Maeve
The Great Hall is already full when I step inside.
Dinner always draws more people. Wolves return from wherever they've scattered during the day, filling the long tables in loose hierarchies that shift just enough to remind everyone where they stand without ever needing to say it out loud. Voices overlap in a deeper rhythm than the morning. Laughter lands heavier. Plates scrape. Chairs shift.
It should feel familiar.
It doesn’t.
I feel it the moment I cross the threshold.
Not silence. Something quieter than that.
Attention.
Subtle, but present. It settles against my skin before I can ignore it.
I don’t hesitate. I move toward the serving table, picking up what I need with practiced ease, letting my focus settle on simple things. Bread, portions, movement.
Things that don’t change depending on who’s watching.
Because the room does.
People look. Not long enough to call it out. Long enough to register. Long enough that it still lands.
I don’t react.
I’ve learned not to.
I turn, letting habit guide me toward a place to sit rather than choice.
That’s when I see them.
A few seats down from the center table, where position matters more than anyone admits, Finn’s circle has already settled in. Thom leans back like the space belongs to him. David and Ezra sit on either side, half-listening to something Max is saying, while Eli and Daniel fill out the edges. Loose enough to suggest they aren’t trying to dominate the table, present enough that everyone knows they do.
Simon isn’t with them.
I notice that first. The second is that they notice me. Something small drops low in my stomach before I push it down.
It doesn’t happen all at once. Ezra glances, then looks again. Max follows. Eli goes quiet mid-sentence. David’s attention shifts just enough that Thom’s words lose their weight.
I don’t slow.
I walk past them the way I always have, like nothing changed.
That should be enough.
It isn’t.
“Well, look at that.”
Thom’s voice cuts through the noise, clean and deliberate.
“Careful,” he adds, leaning back slightly, his gaze settling on me with easy confidence. “Sit too close and she might pick you next.”
A few of them laugh.
Not fully.
Testing the ground.
I feel it land, light on the surface, heavier underneath.
David glances sideways, not quite smiling. Ezra looks down at his plate. Max watches with open interest. Eli and Daniel exchange a look that doesn’t land anywhere clear.
I keep walking.
I don't look at him.
“What?” Thom continues, louder now, pulling the moment further into the open. “That’s what we’re doing, right? Suddenly she’s...”
“Then I’d be doing better than you.”
The interruption lands clean.
Controlled.
I stop and turn.
Simon stands just behind me, one hand resting loosely against the back of a chair. His posture is relaxed.
His presence isn't. He didn't just step in. He chose to.
Thom blinks once, caught off guard.
“That supposed to impress her?” he mutters, trying to recover.
Simon tilts his head slightly, like he’s actually considering it.
“No.”
A brief pause.
“I just don’t like listening when you say stupid things.”
This time, the laughter comes differently.
David exhales a quiet breath he doesn’t hide. Max lets out a short laugh. Eli looks away, but not before it shows. Even Daniel’s mouth twitches.
Not with Thom.
At him.
The shift is small.
But it’s real.
Thom’s straightens slightly, the ease slipping. “She doesn’t need you stepping in,” he says, sharper now.
“She doesn’t,” Simon agrees.
Another beat.
“But you clearly needed someone to step in for you.”
That lands harder.
Because no one backs Thom.
Not one of them.
The silence stretches just long enough to make it clear.
He exhales sharply, glancing around for support and not finding it, then leans back with a short laugh that doesn’t hold, disengaging like it was his choice.
It isn’t.
I hold his gaze for a second longer than necessary. Not challenging, just present.
Then I turn away.
I don’t need anything else from it.
“I didn’t need help,” I say quietly as I move.
Simon falls into step beside me without hesitation.
“I know.”
I glance at him. He isn’t looking at me yet, his attention still tracking the table behind us.
“Then why?” I ask.
He finally looks at me.
“Because he did.”
That isn’t what I expect.
We move further into the hall, the noise folding back around us.
“You’re making it worse,” I say.
“No,” he replies. “It was already worse.”
That settles between us. I dont argue it.
I adjust my plate as we move toward a quieter section. “You don’t have to keep doing that.”
“I know.”
“But you will.”
A faint smile touches his mouth. “Probably.”
That almost makes me smile.
We sit down, and for a moment, nothing happens. The hall continues around us, conversations rising and falling, movement steady, familiar.
But the attention doesn't settle. It moves away and returns, again and again.
Not just on me.
On us.
I don’t look around, I don’t need to. But something else threads through it now.
Sharper. More familiar.
Wrong.
Finn.
He isn’t here, and still, the absence of him sits in the room like something misplaced.
Even his table feels it.
Thom talks louder than necessary. David doesn’t quite engage. Ezra keeps glancing toward the entrance without realizing it.
Beside me, Simon looks once across the hall, quick and assessing, before returning to his plate.
He doesn’t comment.
“You’re making enemies,” I say quietly.
“Already had them.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
The answer comes easy. Too easy. A brief silence settles between us.
“You don’t have to stay. Not for me” I tell him.
“I’m not.”
Simple. Uncomplicated. True.
I let it go.
Because it doesn’t feel like pressure.
It doesn’t feel like something I owe him.
Around us, the hall carries on as if nothing changed, but underneath it, everything has shifted.
People aren’t just watching me anymore.
They’re watching who stands next to me.
And who doesn’t.
- Writer
