Page 29 of Knotting else Matters

“It’s mostly good.” Sophie giggled, sliding into the chair beside Ada, her excitement practically vibrating off her. “I told you Ada’s company is doing the catering for the ceremony, right? She’s been an absolute lifesaver.”

Ada’s smile softened, her gaze shifting to Sophie with a fondness that was almost sisterly. “Sophie’s too sweet. I’m just doing my job.”

For the next hour, the two of them fell into a rapid-fire discussion of menus, guest lists, seating arrangements—all the intricate, glittering details of a perfect ceremony. And me? I became a spectator, a silent bystander nodding along, swirling my iced tea with the straw, trying to pretend I wasn’t drowning in a sea of floral arrangements and wine pairings.

“Liv, what do you think? Chicken or lamb?” Sophie asked, her eyes wide, practically sparkling.

“Uh… both?” I mumbled, trying to keep my smile in place.

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Sophie chirped, launching into a debate with Ada about a dual entrée option.

I sipped my tea, watching the two of them, my chest tightening just a little. Ada was so… perfect. Elegant, poised, effortlessly fitting into this world of perfect weddings and fairy-tale romances. And me? I was the chaos, the messy sister in jeans and a faded band tee, pretending I wasn’t completely out of my depth.

“So, Olivia,” Ada’s voice broke through my thoughts, her warm, curious gaze shifting to me. “How have you been?”

“Fine,” I replied automatically, my smile a little too tight. “It’s my sister’s mating ceremony. I’m happy for her.”

“No, I mean…” Ada’s expression softened, a hint of something almost sympathetic in her dark eyes. “I heard about the divorce. Sophie mentioned you were married to a human?”

Of course, she did.

My smile faltered, my fingers tightening around my glass. Wolves and their insatiable need to know everything about everyone. Nothing stayed private for long.

But Ada’s expression wasn’t prying, wasn’t judgmental. In fact, there was something else there—something softer, sadder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” she continued, leaning back slightly. “It’s just… I know a bit about loss.”

A faint, bitter laugh slipped from me. “Loss? You mean… oh.” I trailed off, watching as her gaze drifted to the lake outside, a soft, distant sadness settling over her.

“I was twenty-four,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “We’d only been mated for a year when… when Adam died.”

Her voice wavered, just for a second, but she held it together, her smile a little too perfect, a little too forced.

I went still, a strange, quiet ache twisting in my chest. I didn’t know this woman, didn’t know her story beyond what she’d just said, but I knew that look—the hollow, empty ache of loss that never really went away.

Mating wasn’t what I wanted. I’d spent my whole life avoiding it, running from the idea of forever, of being bound to someone by a force I couldn’t control. But here, looking at Ada’s face, I remembered the stories—the whispered legends of wolves who lost their mates, of souls torn apart, of grief so raw it could drive you mad.

“I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you,” I whispered, my voice softer than I intended.

“It was… hard,” Ada admitted, her fingers still tracing the glass, her gaze still lost in the sunlight on the lake. “I’m better now. I built something for myself, something I can be proud of. But sometimes… sometimes it still feels like there’s this empty space.”

I swallowed, my own chest tightening, a bitter, aching laugh slipping out of me. “Yeah. Empty space. I know what that feels like.”

Ada’s gaze snapped to mine, warm and gentle, a quiet understanding settling between us.

“My ex-husband,” I continued, feeling the words slip out before I could stop them. “He wasn’t a wolf. Just a human. But gods, I loved him. I thought he was everything. And then… then I found out he wasn’t.”

A soft, sympathetic smile touched Ada’s lips, and Sophie reached over, giving my hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“It’s different, I know. Divorce isn’t… it’s not the same as losing a mate. But it still hurts like hell. Still feels like something’s been ripped out of you.”

“Pain is pain, Olivia.” Ada’s voice was soft, warm, a gentle reassurance. “No matter the shape it takes.”

She took a slow sip of her drink, her gaze still fixed on the lake outside. “Even after all this time—eleven years now—I still feel like I can’t fill that void. Some days it’s just… there, like a shadow I can’t shake. But I found joy in my work. It keeps me moving forward. And I love seeing other couples find the happiness I once had. It’s bittersweet, but it’s also beautiful.”

Her words hung in the air, and for once, I didn’t feel like saying something sarcastic or biting to break the tension. I just smiled—a real, genuine smile that felt a little strange on my face.

“You’re stronger than most people I know,” I said softly.

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