CHAPTER FIVE
By the third morning, the Alpha House had settled into a routine that nobody had planned.
Visitors arrived just after breakfast. Council meetings filled the late morning. Healers checked on Mara before noon. Elodie spent the afternoons wandering the gardens with Agnes or asking Damon impossible questions that somehow left the Beta laughing every single time.
Life continued.
Only it no longer felt like their life.
Iris stood in the library, returning a stack of old journals to the shelves when Lucien stepped through the doorway carrying another folder beneath his arm. He paused the moment he saw her, as though surprised they had managed to occupy the same room without a dozen people standing between them.
"I've been looking for you."
She smiled faintly.
"I was easier to find before everyone started scheduling my day for me."
A trace of guilt crossed his face.
"I know things have been..."
He searched for the right word.
"...unexpected."
She waited.
When nothing followed, she closed the final journal and brushed a layer of dust from her fingertips.
"I made tea."
"For us?"
"I was hoping."
His shoulders relaxed.
"I can spare a few minutes."
The answer was well meant.
It still hurt.
Once, he would have said he wanted to stay.
Now he measured their time together against everything waiting outside the door.
They carried their cups onto the small terrace overlooking the gardens. Autumn had begun painting the trees in muted shades of gold and copper, and the fountain at the center of the courtyard sent a steady stream of water into the cool morning air.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn't hostile.
It was simply unfamiliar.
Years ago they could spend an entire afternoon talking about nothing. They had invented stories about passing clouds, argued over which cook baked the best bread, and laughed until Damon threatened to ban them both from council meetings because neither could keep a straight face afterward.
Now they sat across from each other searching for something safe to say.
Lucien rested his cup on the table.
"I've been thinking about the eastern suite."
Iris looked up.
"It will probably need another bedroom if Mara remains with Elodie for a while. The healers believe the child shouldn't lose another familiar face so soon."
"That sounds reasonable."
"I also thought we could move Father's old books into storage. The room would feel less formal."
She nodded.
"I can help with that."
"I knew you would."
There it was again.
Useful.
Always useful.
Lucien continued before noticing the change in her expression.
"The council also wants recommendations for tutors, but I've delayed that conversation. Elodie has already been through enough."
"I agree."
"I thought you would."
He smiled, relieved they had found common ground.
The smile faded when he realized she hadn't smiled back.
"What is it?"
She wrapped both hands around the warm cup, letting the heat settle into her palms.
"Do you know what we've been talking about for the last five minutes?"
He frowned.
"The house."
"No."
"The arrangements?"
She shook her head.
"Logistics."
He looked genuinely confused.
"Iris..."
"I'm not criticizing you."
"It sounds like you are."
"I'm trying to tell you something."
He leaned forward, concern replacing confusion.
"Then tell me."
She drew a slow breath.
The words had lived inside her for so long that speaking them aloud felt strangely difficult.
"Do you remember our first winter after we married?"
His brow softened.
"Of course."
"The roof leaked over the bedroom."
A quiet laugh escaped him.
"You insisted it sounded romantic."
"You told me dripping water would help us sleep."
"It didn't."
"No."
For the first time in days, they laughed together.
It lasted only a moment.
Still, Iris held onto it.
"Do you remember what we did instead of calling builders?"
"We moved the bed."
"Three times."
"You claimed every corner leaked."
"It did."
He smiled.
"I'm still convinced you exaggerated."
"I absolutely did."
The warmth between them returned so naturally that it almost frightened her.
This was who they had been.
Two people who could make ordinary problems feel small because they faced them together.
The silence that followed wasn't empty anymore.
It was full of memory.
Lucien reached across the table, almost touching her hand before stopping himself.
"I miss that."
"So do I."
His expression softened with relief.
"We'll find our way back."
She looked at him for a long moment.
"You think this is about finding time."
"Isn't it?"
"No."
He frowned again.
"I've been overwhelmed."
"I know."
"The council hasn't stopped."
"I know."
"Elodie needs stability."
"I know."
Every answer came gently.
Never accusing.
Never raising her voice.
Lucien mistook that gentleness for agreement.
"We'll get through this. Once things settle..."
She interrupted quietly.
"They won't."
He blinked.
"What?"
"They'll never settle."
The words hung between them.
"There will always be another meeting."
She looked toward the courtyard where two guards escorted another visiting delegation through the gates.
"There will always be another problem to solve, another Alpha requesting advice, another border dispute, another ceremony, another crisis."
"I can't ignore those responsibilities."
"I'm not asking you to."
"Then what are you asking?"
Her fingers tightened around the cup.
"I'm asking whether you still see me before you see all of them."
He stared at her.
She continued before courage failed.
"When you wake in the morning, what is the first thing you think about?"
"The day ahead."
"And after that?"
He hesitated.
"The council schedule."
She nodded slowly.
"I know."
"Iris..."
"When was the last time you looked at me before looking at your responsibilities?"
The question settled over the terrace with astonishing weight.
Lucien opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
His gaze searched hers, as though the answer might somehow be written there instead.
He tried once more.
Nothing came.
Not because he didn't love her.
Because he genuinely didn't know.
The realization crossed his face in slow, painful stages.
Confusion.
Understanding.
Regret.
"I don't remember," he admitted quietly.
She lowered her eyes.
"I know."
He reached for her hand this time.
She let him take it.
His thumb brushed gently across her knuckles, exactly as it always had.
The gesture should have comforted her.
Instead, it reminded her how long it had been since he had reached for her without first being prompted by guilt.
"I've failed you."
She shook her head.
"No."
"I have."
"You've been trying to be a good Alpha."
"And not a good husband."
She didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
The silence spoke with painful honesty.
A knock interrupted them before either could continue.
Damon stepped onto the terrace, stopped immediately, and looked from one to the other.
"I can come back."
Lucien didn't let go of Iris's hand.
"What is it?"
"The council has gathered."
His voice was apologetic.
"They've received another message from Blackwater Ridge."
Lucien closed his eyes briefly.
"I'll be there."
Damon lingered for a heartbeat before quietly retreating inside.
Lucien remained seated.
"I don't want to leave like this."
"You already have."
He looked at her, confusion clouding his features.
She offered him a sad smile that never reached her eyes.
"You just don't realize when it started."
For the first time in six years, Alpha Lucien Hart found himself without an answer.
And for the first time in six years, Iris understood that love alone could no longer carry the weight of everything they had left unsaid.