An entire world could be narrowed down to one person.

For Lucien, that person was Elain. His Cauldron given mate. She promised him forever. She talked about her garden, and how she wanted to have big windows in their future house. She said she wanted to marry him, in the human fashion. He would have agreed to anything, really, if she'd...

If she'd stayed.

He was worthless. Even the Mother knew- she'd dangled a mating bond in front of his nose only for it all to be fake. If the mating bond with Elain was deceived, how did it still leave a gaping hole in his chest? A panthom that would haunt his every moment. He'd heard that she'd moved on with someone new. He didn't ask. He didn't want to know.

You'd come over a lot, coax him into eating and forcing sips of water or warm tea past his trembling mouth. Sometimes, you'd sit quietly and let him cry on your shoulder. Somehow, your presence was enough.

You were so warm. Lucien wondered what he'd done to deserve your pity. He couldn't push you away. Would never snap at you. You felt like home, and he never wanted to leave.

With you, he could have a minute of peace. A minute without his mind forcing those horrid thoughts into his conscious, the thoughts that told him no one would care if he was gone. You'd never asked about what happened, which he was grateful for.

"She's not my mate," he said, voice hoarse from crying. His eyes were shining, cheeks flushed and tear-stained.

He stared down at his hands, curled around the fabric of his trousers, the skin around his knuckles raw and torn from his constant picking. His hair was down, though knotted and dirty. He'd been wearing the same blouse for two days. He was usually so good at caring about his appearance, back when he had a reason to. She was his reason. Now, what did he have left?

Lucien looked at you, sitting beside him. At your arms, your hands, the slope of your nose. You must think I'm pathetic, he thought, but you're the only one who hasn't left yet.