The space is adorned in white with sparse decor, featuring only a few plants scattered throughout. A substantial desk occupies the centre of the room, with a set of double doors directly behind it providing access to a patio. On the far right wall, a reading nook features a spacious, comfortable chair accompanied by a coordinating coffee table. The entire left wall features a bookshelf replete with substantial volumes and a wedding portrait of Ricky and Aldo.
Ricky occupies the desk, operating a calculator and recording information on a sheet of paper. Her brows are knitted in concentration as a soft knock on the door captures her attention.
“Enter,” she beckons, as an attractive woman and a sombre man enter the room.
The woman clutches a petite bouquet of flowers and a small red box, her lips adorned with a radiant smile.
“Mrs.” Kye! Ricky beams with joy, hurrying to embrace the woman.
“Laura, we have discussed this,” the woman admonishes her, her smile still unwavering. “Refer to me as Kay.” Mrs. Kye induces a sense of ageing in me.
Ricky laughs softly as she places the flowers on her desk and uncomfortably nods at the man next to Kay.
“Mister.” “Kye,” she states, feigning a grin for the taciturn man who merely offers her a brief glance and a nod of recognition.
Kay prods her husband in the abdomen to prompt decorum, but Mr. Kye merely growls in irritation. Deeply mortified, Kay clears her throat and jovially presents the small red box to Ricky.
“Happy Anniversary, my dear,” she exclaims, beaming like a schoolgirl. You have officially led this group as its Luna for two years, and you have performed exceptionally well. Indeed, my dear? she enquires of her hubby.
The man fixates solely on Ricky, his penetrating gaze instilling a sense of dread within me. Ricky appears unfazed by his aloof demeanour, directing her focus towards Kay.
“In any case, we have a present for you,” Kay persists, striving to alleviate the escalating tension. “I trust it meets your approval.”
Ricky opens the package and retrieves an exquisite bracelet adorned with stone beads.
“This is a fertility bracelet,” Kay elucidates, a hint of pain evident in Ricky’s gaze. “It is intended to enhance your fertility luck.” I deemed it worthwhile to attempt.
“Oh, I understand,” Ricky grins courteously, yet I observe the fury flickering in her cheek. Thank you. That was very considerate of you.
“Indeed.” “A few stones will resolve the issue here,” Mr. Kye mutters, while Ricky strives to maintain her composure. “Confront the reality, Kay.” She is a human masquerading as a she-wolf. An abject one, indeed. A genuine she-wolf would have already whelped an entire litter of puppies by this time.
“Christopher!” Kay reprimands her husband. “Retract that statement immediately!”
“Although she may be a Luna, she is a disgrace to this pack!” Mr. Kye growls.
Laura remains upright while Mr. Kye chastises her for her inability to bear an heir, however I observe a subtle trembling in her left hand as she clenches her fingers into a tight fist.
“Aldo will be 26 next month,” Mr. Kye states, his tone subdued and menacing. “He is not ageing favorably.” “You have one additional year, Laura, to provide him with an heir; otherwise, I will ensure your removal from your position.”
“Christopher!” Kay exclaims, while her husband merely glares at her in reply.
“I should never have sanctioned this marriage,” he mutters to himself before exiting the room in a fury.
Kay gazes at Ricky with embarrassment.
“I sincerely apologize,” she murmurs. “I did not anticipate that he would-”
“It is acceptable,” Ricky replies nonchalantly, returning to her work. “I am acclimating to it.”
Kay’s expression softens as she excuses herself to locate her spouse. I observe Ricky seated at her desk, her gaze fixed on the fertility bracelet. She manipulates the beads with her fingertips, as though urging them to function.
She fastens the bracelet on her left wrist, her lower lip trembling as she finally raises her gaze. She weeps as she shuts her eyes and inhales deeply. I approach her, hoping to alleviate her suffering. Ricky, however, requires no assistance, drying her own tears and sitting up more erect. I am astounded by her ability to immerse herself in her work, discovering the strength to concentrate on the spreadsheet before her.
Suddenly, Ricky doubles over, her exquisite face twisting in agony. She inhales sharply as the pain escalates, distancing herself from the desk. Her mouth is agape in a mute scream as she sinks to her knees, encircling her abdomen with her arms. She hesitates briefly before grasping her phone on the desk, her fingers trembling as she inputs a number.
“Jordan,” she gasps into the phone, her voice raspy. “He assists me.”
She reclines on the floor for some minutes until a man abruptly enters, kneeling alongside her.
