Waiting, not waiting for him

Waiting, not waiting for him
Seraphina curled up on the couch, pulling the thick knitted blanket over her legs as the movie played.
The cabin was dim, the flickering light from the screen casting soft shadows on the wooden walls.
She had no idea how much time had passed, but she was completely absorbed.
The film transported her somewhere else—somewhere far from this town, far from the pack, far from her own complicated reality.
The characters laughed, cried, fought, and loved, and for the first time in a long while, she let herself be pulled into a world that wasn’t her own.
Her heart clenched at an emotional scene—a woman standing in the rain, waiting for a man who might never come back.
Seraphina felt that. The uncertainty, the silent heartbreak. She hugged the blanket tighter.
Just as the music swelled, a sharp knock resounded against her door.
She startled, sitting up so fast the blanket slipped off her shoulders. The knock came again, firm but not urgent.
She didn’t even think—she just moved.
She practically rushed to the door, fingers grasping the handle before she could even consider her own eager behavior.
Adolphus.
Her heart thumped. He was back?
She swung the door open, only for her face to fall slightly in disappointment.
Not Adolphus.
His mother.
The older woman stood there, holding a wooden bowl filled with freshly popped popcorn. The scent of butter and salt drifted toward her, warm and tempting.
“I thought you might like a snack,” Adolphus’s mother said with a soft smile, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
Seraphina swallowed her disappointment and quickly masked it with a small, grateful nod.
“Thanks,” she muttered, stepping aside to let the woman in.
She glanced back at the television, the rain-soaked woman on the screen still waiting, still hoping.
Seraphina sighed, taking the bowl. Maybe she wasn’t the only one.
Adolphus’s mother lingered at the doorway, her sharp, knowing eyes sweeping over Seraphina as if searching for something.
“Do you need company?” she asked, voice calm, almost too neutral.
Seraphina hesitated for a second, then shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”
The woman raised an eyebrow but didn’t push.
“Well,” she said, shifting the bowl slightly in her hands, “if you change your mind…”
Seraphina exhaled, forcing herself to soften. “If you want to watch, you can stay.”
Adolphus’s mother smiled, but it was brief. “No, dear. Enjoy your movie.”
Without another word, she turned and stepped back into the dimly lit hallway, her presence fading into the house’s stillness.
Seraphina closed the door and returned to the couch, settling into the soft cushions. The movie played on, and she scooped a handful of warm popcorn, the buttery taste melting on her tongue.
Outside, Adolphus’s mother stepped onto the porch, only to be greeted by a small group of children lingering by the steps. Their wide, innocent eyes flickered between her and the closed door.
“We want to greet Seraphina,” one of the little ones piped up, shifting on their feet.
Adolphus’s mother gave them a firm but gentle look, shaking her head. “Not tonight. Let her rest.”
The kids pouted but didn’t argue, reluctantly shuffling away under her watchful gaze.
Inside, Seraphina remained oblivious, too absorbed in the unfolding drama on the screen. She curled deeper into her blanket, munching on sweet popcorn, momentarily forgetting the weight of the world outside.
The credits rolled across the screen, the soft hum of the ending soundtrack filling the quiet room. Seraphina sat motionless, her hands buried in the blanket draped over her lap, her brows furrowed in a deep frown.
She wasn’t bored. Not in the way that made her want to seek out company or talk to someone—no, it wasn’t that. It was the gnawing, unsettled feeling in her chest. A restlessness she couldn’t shake.
Where was Adolphus?
Her fingers curled tighter around the fabric, a huff escaping her lips. She didn’t want to be here. Not in this house. Not in this life. And yet, here she was—stuck, waiting.
Waiting?
Her scowl deepened. No, she wasn’t waiting for him. She didn’t care where he was.
Does he not care? He just left me here. Alone.
Her gaze flickered to the door. She wanted to lock it. She should lock it. But then…
Is he coming back? Will he not come back?
Her chest tightened, and she shot up from the couch, pacing toward the window. The night was dark, the trees swayed slightly in the wind, but there was no sign of him. No approaching car, no footsteps in the distance.
She ran a hand through her messy blonde hair, yanking it into a loose ponytail as she continued pacing, her bare feet soundless against the wooden floor.
“Oh, fuck this,” she muttered under her breath.
She didn’t care. He could stay out there forever for all she cared. She wasn’t some prisoner who needed his presence. She was fine.
But then…
Who’s going to cook?
The thought slipped in before she could stop it, and she gritted her teeth. Not that she needed him to cook, but he was the one making sure she didn’t starve.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
But he’s their Alpha. He’s busy. He doesn’t have to be here.
She hated the way that thought settled in her stomach. It was the same kind of reasoning she’d told herself as a child, waiting for her father to come home after long nights.
He’d leave at dusk, slipping into the shadows of the trees, always saying it was for something important. Some hunt, some meeting, something he couldn’t tell her about. And she’d wait. Sitting at the window, knees hugged to her chest, watching the darkness swallow the path outside.
Sometimes, he returned before sunrise. Other times, days passed. She always told herself not to care. That he’d come back when he wanted to. That she didn’t need him.
But she always looked out the window anyway.
Now, years later, she found herself doing the same damn thing.