Eileen
Professor Ward’s office felt smaller than usual, the afternoon light casting long shadows across her desk. I sat with my hands folded, trying to steady my breathing as she set down her reading glasses.
“Miss Wylde,” she began, “your work on the parasite infection has drawn considerable attention. The Healing Department chair specifically asked about you.
My heart jumped.
“Dr. Hawthorne runs the Eastern Border Advanced Treatment Center. He needs an assistant—normally a position for fourth-years.” She paused, studying me. “He’s willing to take you. Three months. If you pass his evaluation, you can graduate early. This is the first time in a decade we’ve offered this to a second-year student.”
The words seemed to echo. Three months. Early graduation. The border.
“I…” My voice came out small. “Are you certain, Professor? I’m still—”
“You proved yourself with Marcus,” Ward cut in gently. “Don’t waste your gift doubting it.”
Something warm expanded in my chest. Before I could overthink it, I said, “Professor, there’s someone who helped. Nina Grey. She pointed me to the right research when I was stuck.”
Ward’s eyebrows rose. “Miss Grey?”
“Yes. Without her, I might not have found the answer. If there are other positions, or if she could interview…”
“I’ll arrange it.” Ward made a note. “But the border isn’t forgiving, Eileen. You’re certain she can handle it?”
I thought of Nina’s sharp precision. “I’m certain, Professor.”
“Good. I’ll send details tomorrow. Congratulations.”
I left in a daze, my feet carrying me toward the healing wing where Mira would be. The silver badge on my collar caught the light.
Mira saw my face and dropped her armload of bandages. “What happened? Is it the baby—”
“Professor Ward offered me an apprenticeship,” I said, unable to stop smiling. “At the Eastern Border Treatment Center.”
She stared, then shrieked and threw her arms around me. “That’s incredible! That’s—wait.” She pulled back. “How long?”
“Three months.”
Joy drained from her face. “Three months. You’ll be gone…”
“Mira—”
“No, I’m being selfish. This is amazing.” She forced brightness. “Just… I’ll miss you.”
Then her expression shifted—calculating. “Unless I came with you.”
“Mira.”
“You’ll need an assistant! Someone to help with supplies, records. I could do that.” She gripped my shoulders demonstratively. “See? Excellent grip strength.”
I laughed despite myself. “You just don’t want to study for finals.”
“Partly,” she admitted, grinning. Then serious: “But also, Eileen, I don’t want you alone there. You’re pregnant. What if you need someone who knows?”
My throat tightened. “You’d really spend three months at a border station for me?”
“It’s leaving you alone I can’t handle.” She squeezed my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s ask Ward.”
Professor Ward looked unsurprised when we returned. She listened to Mira’s rambling pitch about field assistance, expression neutral.
Finally, she turned to me. “Miss Wylde, you’re willing to take responsibility for Miss Thornwood’s performance?”
The weight of that settled on me. Not just myself anymore, but my best friend’s future.
“Yes, Professor Ward.”
Mira vibrated with restrained excitement. I pressed my hand on her shoulder.
Will Regis agree to this?
Can I handle three months without him?
And there was the baby to consider. The healers said I had about four months until birth. If I spent three of those at the border, I’d return with barely a month to prepare. What if something went wrong? What if the stress affected the pregnancy? What if Regis thinks I’m choosing my career over our child?
The fear struck deep. I thought of my mother, Lydia, who’d never truly wanted me. Who’d seen me as a burden, a disappointment. Would Regis think I was making the same choice? Parting myself from family, abandoning what mattered?
Would I become that kind of mother?
“Stop,” Mira said sharply, gripping my arm. “I know that look. You’re thinking terrible things about yourself.”
“What if I’m being selfish?”
“You’re not.” She turned me to face her. “Listen to me. Wanting to use your gifts, wanting to save lives—that’s not selfish. That’s who you are.”
But was it? Or was I just running from the terrifying responsibility of motherhood, hiding behind my work because I was too afraid to fail?
The thought came fierce and sudden. I pressed my hand more firmly against my stomach, feeling that small warmth expand.
I want this child to see a mother who’s strong. Not someone who hides behind an Alpha’s protection, but someone who stands on her own.
I wanted this baby to grow up knowing that being wolfless didn’t mean being worthless. That their mother had earned her place through skill and determination. That she hadn’t given up on herself just because the world said she should.
And I wanted Regis to see that he’d chosen well. That I was worth the faith he’d taken, the battles he’d fought for.
This wasn’t about choosing between my career and my child. This was about showing my child what it is to be worthy.
“There he is,” Mira said, pointing toward the gates where Regis’s carriage waited.
I could see him through the window, his profile sharp against the fading light. Through our bond, I felt his attention turn toward me, the warmth of recognition.
“You’ve got this,” Mira whispered, squeezing my hand one last time. “Go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and walked toward the carriage.

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