A grumbling, groaning little half-sigh breaks from Daphne’s lips as she stirs from her sleep. Because no, she does…not want to be awake right now.
Please, she begs her wolf, who is shaking out her fur, turning towards the door with interest. You’re imagining it – you always are. It’s not real – he’s not here, he’s not ever coming here again. Just…let’s go back to sleep. It’s better when we’re not conscious.
But the little rap comes again and Daphne stills, realizing that…she didn’t imagine it. That there is a knock at the door.
It’s real, her wolf whispers, awed and a little afraid.
Daphne sniffs the air because…it’s her boss, or one of her co-workers. Not…not…
But the scent on the air. She’s not imagining that, is she? She can’t. The hundred times she’s tried to conjure it in her mind recently she’s failed.
But there it is now in the air, undeniable.
“Daphne, please.”
A squeaky little sob breaks from her as Daphne sits up and wraps her arms around her knees, staring at the door. Her shoulders start to tremble as she wars with herself, her gentle copper wolf whining and urging her forward, wanting desperately for her to open the door, to throw herself into his arms.
But…she knows better than to do that.
It’s done. The whole thing is done, it’s over.
And her life will be better if she just…lets it go. A clean break.
“Daphne, please!” he says, knocking hard on the door twice with his fist. His voice breaks on her name this time. “…please.”
Daphne looks down and to her right, to the little grey shadow cat curled against her pillow, looking up at her with big sad eyes. The kitten who hasn’t left her side for a moment, who always sleeps curled beneath her chin.
She sighs, knowing it’s no good. That no matter what she knows is most logical, and safe, and healthy…that she hasn’t let him go. That she won’t. Can’t.
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