Chapter 55

We started having dinner together three nights a week.

It was awkward at first. We'd sit across from each other in a private corner of the dining hall and struggle to find things to talk about. Pack business felt too formal. Personal topics felt too raw. We mostly ended up discussing the school or the weather.

But it was something.

After two weeks of stilted dinners, Drogo finally broke the pattern.

"This is ridiculous," he announced halfway through our meal. "We're sitting here talking about grain supplies when there are actual things we need to discuss."

"Like what?"

"Like how you're really doing. Like whether I'm making this worse by pushing for dinners you clearly don't want to have. Like anything real instead of this surface level nonsense."

I set down my fork. "You want real? Fine. I'm exhausted. I spend all day teaching and pretending I'm fine when I'm not. I go back to Rosa's place and lie awake wondering if I'm making a mistake trying to fix things with you. And these dinners feel like a test I don't know how to pass."

Drogo looked surprised by my honesty. "A test?"

"Yes. Like you're watching to see if I'm softening. If I'm ready to forgive you yet. And I don't know the right answer so I just keep showing up and hoping I'll figure it out."

"I'm not testing you. I'm just trying to spend time with you."

"It doesn't feel like that. It feels like you're waiting for some magic moment when everything goes back to normal."

"What would you rather I do?"

"Stop waiting for normal. It's not coming back. We need to figure out what comes next, not try to recreate what we had."

Drogo was quiet for a moment. "You're right. I keep thinking if I just do everything right, we'll eventually get back to how things were before I screwed everything up. But that's not realistic."

"No, it's not. Too much has changed."

"So what do we do instead?"

I thought about it. "We start over. Not completely, but mostly. Figure out who we are now instead of trying to be who we were."

"How do we do that?"

"I don't know. But maybe we start by actually being honest instead of careful. You asked how I'm really doing. I told you. Now you tell me something real."

Drogo shifted uncomfortably. "I hate sleeping alone. The quarters feel empty without you there. I keep waking up thinking you're next to me and then remembering you're not."

"That's your own fault."

"I know. But you asked for honesty."

We finished dinner in less awkward silence than usual. When we stood to leave, Drogo stopped me.

"Can I walk you back to Rosa's place?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to. And because we used to walk together all the time. I miss that."

I agreed. We walked slowly through the fortress. People nodded as we passed but didn't interrupt.

"The pack is talking," I mentioned. "About us having dinner together."

"Let them talk. They've been talking for months anyway."

"Does it bother you? What they're saying?"

"Some of it. The ones who think I should just order you to come back, that bothers me. The ones who understand why you're angry and think I deserve worse, that I can handle."

"Cole told me some of the older pack members think I'm being difficult."

Drogo's jaw tightened. "Who?"

"Doesn't matter. They're entitled to their opinions."

"Not when their opinions involve criticizing my wife for having standards."

We reached Rosa's door. I turned to face him.

"Thank you for dinner. And for being honest."

"Same. We should do this again."

"We're already scheduled for three nights a week."

"I meant the honesty part. Not just the dinner."

After he left, Rosa poked her head out of the main room.

"How was it?"

"Better than usual. We actually talked about real things instead of pretending everything's fine."

"That's progress."

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just setting myself up to get hurt again."

"Do you think he's really changed?"

"I think he's trying. Whether that's enough, I don't know yet."

The next few weeks followed the same pattern. Three dinners a week where we talked honestly about how we were doing. It was still hard but it got easier.

Drogo started including me in pack decisions again. Not because he had to, but because he actually wanted my input. He'd seek me out and ask my opinion before making final calls.

"The northern border needs reinforcement," he told me one afternoon. "I'm thinking we send fifteen warriors. What do you think?"

"Why fifteen specifically?"

"It's enough to handle any small skirmishes but not so many that we leave the fortress vulnerable."

"What about the eastern border? If we pull fifteen from the north, does that create a gap?"

Drogo pulled out a map and we went through the patrol routes together. Adjusted the numbers. Made a plan that accounted for all the weak points.

It felt like old times. Like we were actually working together instead of him just informing me of decisions.

"This is good," I admitted when we finished. "Working together like this."

"It's how it should have been all along. I'm sorry it took me destroying everything to figure that out."

Two months after we started having regular dinners, something shifted.

We were walking back from another meal when Drogo suddenly stopped.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing's wrong. I just realized something."

"What?"

"I've been so focused on proving I've changed that I haven't asked what you need from me. Not in a general sense, but specifically. Right now. What do you need?"

I thought about it. "Honestly? I need to know you won't shut me out again. That when things get hard or scary, you'll include me instead of trying to protect me by making decisions alone."

"I can promise that. What else?"

"I need to feel like an equal. Not just in words but in actions. When other Alphas are around, when pack members question something, I need you to back me up as your partner, not just as your wife."

"Done. Anything else?"

"I need time. I know I keep saying that, but I need you to be patient while I figure out if I can really trust you again."

"I can do that. As long as you need."

We started walking again. Drogo reached for my hand hesitantly. I let him take it.

It was the first time we'd had physical contact beyond accidental touches in months. His hand felt familiar and strange at the same time.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. It's okay."

We walked the rest of the way in silence. When we reached Rosa's door, Drogo didn't let go right away.

"I know we're not there yet," he started. "But I want you to know I'm committed to this. To us. For however long it takes."

"I know. I'm committed too. Scared, but committed."

"Scared of what?"

"Of letting my guard down and getting hurt again. Of wanting this to work so badly that I ignore red flags. Of never being able to fully trust you no matter how hard we both try."

"Those are valid fears."

"I know. But I'm trying anyway."

Drogo squeezed my hand gently. "That's all I can ask for."

That night I lay in bed thinking about how far we'd come. We weren't fixed. We weren't back to normal. But we were actually trying and that counted for something.

Rosa knocked on my door around midnight.

"Can't sleep?" she asked.

"Just thinking."

"About Drogo?"

"About everything. About whether I'm doing the right thing by trying to fix this."

Rosa sat on the edge of my bed. "Do you want to fix it? Really?"

"I think so. But I'm still so angry sometimes. I'll be fine and then something will remind me of what he did and I want to scream at him all over again."

"That's normal. Healing isn't linear."

"When does it stop hurting?"

"I don't know. But it does get easier. You just have to decide if he's worth the effort it takes to get there."

"Is he?"

"Only you can answer that."

I fell asleep eventually. Dreamed about Drogo and me training together like we used to. Before everything got complicated. Before the betrayal and the pain.

When I woke up, I realized something. I wanted that back. Not exactly how it was, but something close. Something where we were partners again in every way that mattered.

The question was whether we could actually get there. Or if we were just delaying the inevitable end of something that was already broken beyond repair.

I didn't have an answer yet. But I was finally willing to find out.