The moment Drew stepped out of the car with Laura and her daughter, Anne, I knew this trip had just taken a sharp, irreversible turn.
Laura looked radiant in a flowing white dress, her fingers gently wrapped around Anne's tiny hand as they approached. Her smile was sweet—too sweet—but her eyes? They sparkled with quiet triumph.
"Sienna," she said softly, "Drew told me you personally invited me. Thank you so much for including us."
A flawless performance. She knew as well as I did that I would never have invited her.
Drew, oblivious—or perhaps pretending to be—hoisted her luggage into the trunk. But when he opened the rear door, he suddenly froze.
Two unfamiliar young werewolves were already seated inside.
One of his friends scratched the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, Drew. These are my younger brothers. They wanted to tag along. I didn't know you were bringing extra guests."
Drew's jaw tightened. He didn't speak. His silence said everything.
The friend moved to make his brothers get out, but Laura stopped him with one graceful motion.
"Don't," she said, her voice warm but firm. "They're at the perfect age for a trip like this. Let them enjoy it."
Then she hesitated, lowered her gaze slightly, and added with theatrical grace, "Anne and I will stay behind. It's alright. I hope you all have a wonderful time."
She took a few slow steps away before pausing, turning back with a soft, almost wounded expression.
"Drew," she said gently, "Anne was really looking forward to the fireworks at the amusement park. If we can't come, could you send her some photos? Maybe a video?"
Anne looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.
And just like that, Drew caved.
He walked over to my side of the car, opened the door, and—without warning—pulled me out.
"Sienna," he said, avoiding my eyes, "there aren't enough seats. Laura has Anne with her. Just let them go first. I'll come back for you. I promise."
I froze. Was he really asking me to stand by the side of the road… so she could ride beside him?
"There's no time to arrange another car," he added sharply. "Just wait here. I won't be long."
He couldn't even look me in the eye.
Maybe the shock on my face said more than words could. The two young werewolves exchanged glances, then stepped out.
"Sienna," one of them said gently, "take our seats. We'll wait instead."
I turned to Drew, hoping—begging—for a flicker of doubt. A flash of guilt. Anything.
But there was nothing.
His expression was calm. Unmoved. As if it didn't matter whether I stayed or left. As if I didn't matter.
I swallowed hard, forced a smile that barely held, and reached for my suitcase.
"It's fine," I said quietly. "You all go ahead."
I guided the two boys back into the vehicle and stepped back, the weight of my luggage nothing compared to the weight in my chest.
As the car pulled away, Laura smiled and waved from the window, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. Anne sat on her lap. And Drew—he didn't even glance back.
To him, I was nothing more than an afterthought. Disposable.
The three-hour journey passed in silence for me. For them, it was a stream of curated moments.
Laura flooded her Instagram with updates—sun-drenched landscapes, candid shots of Drew driving, a carefully chosen angle of Anne's laughter.
One comment read:
"Is that your mate? He's so handsome!"
Laura didn't reply. She simply dropped an emoji: 😳
Halfway through the trip, my phone buzzed. Drew.
"Stay where you are," he said. "I'll come back."
But the sun was relentless. My skin began to burn, my throat dried to dust. Hours passed, yet I stood there, silent and waiting.
Because I had to know—
Would he come back for me at all?