r/EternalStoryBook

The day before school starts, Mom posted a screenshot of a money transfer in the family group chat.

I’d just gotten a thousand dollars, my heart leaping with hope, when Mom tagged me directly in the thread.

[Wallace, send that money over to your sister.]

I blinked, typing back: [Didn’t you send that to me?]

A voice note popped up immediately, sharp and clipped. “That money goes into both of Nana’s bank accounts so she won’t run short. How dare you think you deserve cash when your grades are garbage? Send it right back, or you’ll regret it.”

Tears stung my eyes, but I sent the full thousand back.

My account balance dropped to three dollars. I was about to ask if she could spare two hundred, only to find I’d been kicked out of the group.

Dad pulled me aside to comfort me. “Your mom’s just harsh but well-meaning, she means well. Take these three hundred. Don’t take it to heart. Pack your things; we’ll drive you two over to Duke University tomorrow.”

I wiped my eyes and loaded my luggage into the car that night. Yet when dawn broke, my suitcase lay discarded out on the driveway.

The heavy black hard-shell suitcase hit the ground, sliding across the concrete, its old lock cracking clean open.

Mom blocked the car door with one arm, her tone flat. “Nana’s got way too much luggage. There isn’t room. You’ll have to get there on your own.”

Dad tried to speak up for me, but one cold look from Mom shut him down instantly.

“I told you not to apply to Duke. We can’t drop two kids off there. This is what you get for not listening.”

I stared at the wide-open backseat, throat burning.

The trunk was stuffed full of Nadia’s belongings, plus gift bags for professors and new classmates. There was simply no spot left for my twenty-four-inch suitcase.

I should have known. Their perfect little family of three had never had space for an extra like me.

Duke, though, was never my real destination. A bird with no home belonged farther north.

***

Frayed, faded hand-me-down clothes spilled halfway out of my broken suitcase—castoffs Nadia no longer wanted.

I stood out in the open, summer sunlight burning hot against my skin.

Inside the car, Nadia was curled across Mom’s lap in a brand-new designer sundress. The AC was cranked so high she shivered.

Mom reached over to turn it down without a second thought, then frowned when she noticed I hadn’t left. “What are you still doing standing there?”

In the old days, I would have bowed my head and mumbled, “Okay, I get it.”

Growing up, our schools had sat on opposite ends of town.

Nadia went to the fancy private school five minutes from home. I commuted two hours each way across the city to an underfunded public school. Mom and Dad always drove Nadia.

From age seven onward, I got up at five every morning, trudging through the freezing dawn to catch the bus. My overstuffed backpack weighed me down until one shoulder hung lower than the other.

Nadia wouldn’t get up until seven, hair done up in perfect princess braids. She had time for a leisurely breakfast on the ride. Her Elsa-printed backpack never touched the ground; either Mom or Dad carried it for her.

I’d begged them to drive me once. All I got was, “It’s too far. We have work.”

If I pushed further, I got snapped at. “Why don’t you get grades half as good as your sister, then?”

Twelve years of this back-and-forth. I ought to have grown used to it.

But watching my pale, polished sister in the cool car, then looking down at my sunburned arms, my feet rooted to the pavement.

“There’s an empty seat back there,” Dad said, glancing over his shoulder from the driver’s seat, his brow furrowed. “Wallace’s thin, she won’t take up much room. Let her ride with us.”

Mom was smoothing sunscreen across Nadia’s arms and rolled her eyes. “Jude, come on. Nana’s going to be gone for six whole months. We still need to run errands for her supplies on the drive. We promised her, we can’t back out now.”

“Three of you squish in the back, or one of you sit up front,” Dad insisted.

“Not a chance,” Mom huffed. “I’m not riding shotgun in this blazing heat, and neither is Nana.”

Sweat soaked through the back of my shirt. I opened my mouth to say I’d happily take the front seat.

Nadia cut me off, pouting slightly. “Mom, isn’t this kind of unfair to Wally? You’ve never once driven her to school. I really don’t need a ride, y’know. I’m strong enough to haul my own bags.”

She flexed her delicate arms beneath her puff-sleeve dress for show. “See? I’ve got muscles!”

Mom and Dad laughed, the heavy tension dissolving in an instant. Once again, I was the awkward one ruining everyone’s good mood.

Dad coughed quietly. “Don’t be silly. You’re way too little, we’d never feel safe letting you go alone.”

“Unfair?” Mom scoffed. “This is her own fault! I told her not to apply to the same school as Nana. She refused to listen. She needs to learn a lesson.”

Dad caved. “Wally, you’ll have to take the train.”

I twisted the hem of my shirt, words stuck tight in my throat. I said nothing.

Car doors slammed shut. A two-hundred-dollar Venmo transfer popped up on my phone screen. I stared at it for a long time, then tapped accept.

Late that night, Dad texted me: [I’m sorry this happened. I’ll help you move your stuff when you get to Duke.]

I glanced at my phone, where a shipping alert popped up.

I typed back: [I’m not coming to Duke.]

My parents had no clue. Duke was never where I intended to go.

I’d applied to Cornell, far up north. No short flights there, only endless train rides.

After five years of marriage, Lisa Davis finally got pregnant.

She rushed to get her birth permit, planning to give it to her husband David Green as their fifth anniversary gift.

But the system kept rejecting their marriage certificate as invalid.

"Miss Lisa, are you sure this is real?"

After over a dozen error alerts, the clerk eyed her strangely.

Lisa frowned. "We've been married five years. It can't be fake."

The clerk retried and pushed the documents back. "Check at the Civil Registry Office. Using fake certificates is illegal. Singles can get birth permits now."

Lisa understood the implication and went next door.

When she emerged, her face was deathly pale, all joy vanished.

The official's words hammered her heart: "Both you and Mr. Green are unmarried. This marriage certificate is forged..."

Their five-year marriage... was fake!

She and David grew up together. Everyone knew he adored her, showering her with life's finest things. Why give her a fake certificate?

Lisa immediately flew to Andorra where David was on business.

She needed answers!

At his hotel, a wedding was underway.

Andorra had unique marriage laws—lifelong unions ending only in death.

Pushing through the crowd toward the elevator, Lisa glanced at the groom—and froze.

There stood David, beaming in local attire: leather jacket, skinny jeans, knee-high boots, beret, and a red waist sash.

"Congrats on the wedding, David!"

"Gotta admit, you throw epic weddings both home and abroad!"

"But David, are you serious about Helen? That girl from nothing?"

Someone asked, "Isn't this bigamy? Didn't you marry Lisa years ago?"

"David never actually registered with Lisa," another explained. "Waited for Helen to grow up. Legally, he's stayed single all five years!"

"Damn! David knows how to play."

Lisa stood petrified in the crowd, blood turning to ice.

She thought she'd misheard—until David's voice cut through:

"Helen deserves this. She nearly died donating blood to save Lisa and chose to live in Lisa's shadow. All she wants is a lasting marriage. I can give her that."

David spoke slowly, each word deliberate.

So that was why.

Tears welled in Lisa's eyes. The fake certificate—David had arranged it himself.

Five years ago, Lisa Davis got into a car accident. Helen Gonzalez, then a high school freshman, rushed her to the hospital and donated blood to save her life.

Helen came from a poor family, living only with her critically ill mother. To express their gratitude for saving Lisa, David Green and Lisa covered all her educational expenses and arranged for her overseas studies and travels.

David declared that by saving Lisa, Helen had essentially saved him too.

He vowed to give everything within his power to show his appreciation.

Little did she know his gratitude would extend to marrying her after supporting her until adulthood.

To make me pay for "hurting" my adopted sister,

Logan Mercer, Silver Ridge's head of mountain rescue, left me twelve weeks pregnant at a remote mountain outpost.

That was the day the avalanche hit.

Buried beneath the snow, I sobbed into my phone and called mountain rescue.

"Help... This is Claire Bennett. An avalanche hit. I'm buried under the snow."

A cold laugh came through the line.

"Ms. Bennett, Logan already warned us you might abuse the rescue line today."

"He told us not to respond unless there's a verified emergency."

When they hung up, I called my parents.

Even through my crying, all I heard in their voices was impatience.

"Claire, Mia's had health problems her whole life."

"You locked her outside on purpose, and she ended up in the hospital with a fever."

"Logan left you up there for a while so you could cool off and think about what you did."

I called Logan one last time. He didn't sound worried. Just cold.

"Stop this. Stay there and think about what you did."

Then another avalanche came down and swallowed me whole.

Before I lost consciousness, my blood spread across the white snow.

Through the blur, I saw him coming toward me, hand in hand with my adopted sister...

"Help... an avalanche hit. I'm buried at the North Ridge outpost..."

Snow already covered me to the waist as I called Silver Ridge Mountain Rescue over and over.

A snapped section of the outpost frame had pinned my right leg. The slightest movement sent pain through it like the bone might splinter.

Worse, my lower abdomen had started cramping in waves.

At last, someone answered.

I latched onto the human voice on the other end like a lifeline and choked out,

"This is Claire Bennett. I'm trapped under snow. My exact location is—"

Before I could finish, a familiar voice cut me off.

"Mrs. Mercer?"

I froze.

"Logan said you two had a fight today and warned us you might call dispatch just to get him to come back."

"If that's what this is, you need to stop."

My voice shook. Frost blurred the edges of my vision.

"No! I'm not abusing the line."

"There was a real avalanche. I'm trapped, my leg's pinned, and I can't get out!"

"Please send someone. I'm cramping so badly. I could die out here..."

The dispatcher gave an impatient click of his tongue.

"Mrs. Mercer, mountain rescue isn't a hotline for marital fights."

"Whatever happened between you and Logan, you need to work it out with him."

Then he hung up.

The disconnect tone beeped in my ear.

I gripped the phone, my fingers aching with cold.

A gust of wind knifed across my face.

Frost crusted my lashes, and each breath of icy air seared my lungs.

My pinned leg had gone numb, but my abdomen still twisted with deep, grinding pain.

I bit my lip and pressed a trembling hand to my stomach.

"It's okay..."

"Don't be scared, baby. Mommy's going to try again..."

I dialed back immediately.

They picked up even faster this time.

I barely got a word out before the voice on the other end hardened.

"Mrs. Mercer, why are you calling again?"

I cried out,

"I'm not lying!"

I held the phone out toward the storm.

A low roar rolled across the mountain as loose snow hissed down the slope.

"Listen! You can hear it. I'm pregnant, and I'm having severe cramps."

"I don't know how much longer I can hold on!"

"Please, trace my phone. Just send a team..."

A few quiet laughs crackled through the line.

"Logan called this one."

"No wonder he never wants to go home if this is what he deals with..."

When the dispatcher came back on, he sounded bored.

"Mrs. Mercer, enough."

"If you keep tying up this line, we'll have to document the calls."

"Don't take resources away from people who actually need help."

Something inside me went cold.

"But I am the person who needs help..."

I didn't even get to finish.

The call disconnected again.

As soon as the screen went dark, a text came in.

It was Logan.

"Claire, are you done?"

"I left you at the outpost for a few hours to cool down. Did you really need to drag my entire rescue team into our fight?"

"They're working. They don't have time for this."

I stared at the texts. Tears hit the screen and froze almost as soon as they landed.

I was actually dying, and no one believed me.

With what little strength I had left, I called county emergency dispatch.

When someone answered, I nearly screamed into the phone,

"Help... I'm on the mountain. I'm cramping. I'm bleeding. A lot..."

The dispatcher paused for a few seconds.

"Ma'am, we're getting an intermittent location ping from your phone, and Silver Ridge has an advisory on file about a possible domestic dispute."

"We need to verify the situation with the resort's mountain rescue supervisor."

Panic slammed into me.

"Don't call him..."

"Please just send someone! I really—"

But the line was already being transferred.

Seconds later, the background on the other end changed.

I heard voices, clinking dishes, the muffled hum of a warm room.

Someone was soothing Mia.

"Mia, honey, don't worry. Just rest."

"Your mom and I are right here. No one's going to upset you again."

Then Mia's soft, fragile voice drifted through.

"Is that Claire?"

"Is she still mad at me?"

Logan's voice softened when he answered her.

"Ignore her. If she won't admit she was wrong, she can stay there until she calms down."

The county dispatcher asked,

"Can you confirm whether Claire Bennett is currently in immediate danger?"

Logan answered without hesitation. His voice didn't change at all.

"No."

"No. She's upset and trying to prove a point. Don't send a team."

I gripped the phone until my hand cramped. A broken sound came out of my throat.

"Logan..."

Wind and snow filled my mouth. I could barely force the words out.

"It... really hurts..."

Another cramp tore through my abdomen and folded me in half.

The snow beneath me started to turn red.

I clawed at the snow, trying to drag myself free.

But my leg wouldn't move, and pain ripped through my abdomen.

Every attempt sent black spots swimming across my vision.

I dragged in a breath and screamed with everything I had left,

"Help!"

"Is anyone there...?"

The wind tore my voice apart before it could carry.

Then the snow overhead shuddered.

A wall of white thundered down on me.

Aurora

I had never heard silence quite like the one that hung over Lupinhollow.

I leaned my forehead against the cold car window. Even through the glass, I could feel the woods pressing in—old and heavy. The trees weren’t like the ones in the city. They didn’t whisper; they towered. Dark pines rose on both sides of the road, so thick they blocked out the sun. It was just past noon, but it already looked like dusk.

Mom hummed quietly along with the radio. Some soft indie ballad. She tapped the steering wheel out of rhythm while Dad snored in the passenger seat, mouth open like a cave. He'd insisted on driving the first five hours of the trip and then passed out as soon as the road got twisty. Figures.

I pulled my hoodie tighter around my arms. August wasn't supposed to feel like October.

The welcome sign flashed by so fast I almost missed it.

Welcome to Lupinhollow—Est. 1812.

A Howling Good Time Awaits!

I snorted. "Seriously?"

Mom just smiled, her eyes still on the winding mountain road. "Local charm, baby."

„Local cringe,“ I muttered.

But I wasn't really annoyed. Just…tired. Nervous, maybe. A little cold. Everything felt different today—the air, the trees, even the sunlight—and I didn't know if that was the town or just me.

We rounded a curve, and suddenly, like something out of a painting, the college came into view.

At first, I thought it was a castle. Out of nowhere, this massive stone building appeared through the trees, covered in ivy like something from a fantasy movie. It had tall, pointy roofs, old arches, and windows so thin they looked more like arrow slits than anything else. It wasn’t ugly—in fact, it was pretty cool—but it definitely didn’t look like any college I’d ever seen.

A chill ran down my neck.

"This is it," Mom said softly, "Moonbound Academy."

I wanted to ask why it is called that, but the words stuck in my throat. I didn't want to sound dumb, especially since they'd spent the last six weeks hyping this place up. "Best-rated private boarding college in the region," Mom had said. “Top-tier academics, incredible wilderness programs, full scholarship—what’s not to love?”

I'd heard it all already. And yet now, sitting in the shadow of this dark, towering place, I had the sinking feeling that I'd missed something important.

„Looks more like a haunted monastery than a college," I murmured, only half-joking.

Dad woke up with a grunt and rubbed his face. „We here?“

Mom pulled into the lot and found a spot next to a bunch of other cars. Students were everywhere, dragging suitcases or tossing duffel bags over their shoulders. I was expecting classic prep school vibes—dress pants, cardigans, maybe some quiet kids with thick glasses and big books. But nope. Everyone looked like they’d just stepped off the set of some supernatural teen show. Lots of leather jackets, combat boots, and dark circles under their eyes like it was a fashion statement.

Some of them were laughing, sure—but not loudly.

And then I noticed something else.

They were staring at me.

Not in a new-girl kind of way. Not even in a 'who's she' way.

They stared like I was…off. Wrong. Something just out of place enough to make them squint.

I shifted in my seat.

"Don't overthink it," Mom said, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. „They're just curious.“

But they weren't looking at her. Or Dad. Just me.

Mom killed the engine. The silence that followed wasn't normal silence—it was alive. The kind that made your ears ring a little. I could hear the wind moving through the trees, like the whole forest was breathing.

"Come on, sweetheart," Dad said as he climbed out, stretching like he hadn't just spent hours snoring. "Let's find the front office.“

I stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching under my sneakers. It was cooler here, even for August. Not cold, exactly, but the air had weight. I pulled my hoodie tighter, fingers fidgeting with the cuffs.

The students kept watching me as we walked by. Their faces didn’t really change. Some squinted, others just stared. I tried to smile at a girl with a silver braid and big boots.

She didn't smile back.

The main building towered above us. Its black stone covered in creeping ivy. Over the double doors, carved deep into the archway, were words in latin: Luna Vincit Omnia

"What's that mean?" I asked, staring up at it.

Dad shrugged. "Something about the moon freeing all. You know your mom took Latin in college, not me.“

He was wrong, but I didn't correct him. I'd seen the phrase before—in a brochure they gave us in the acceptance packet. The Moon conquers all.

I remember thinking it sounded ominous then. It still does now.

Inside, the entryway was somehow darker than outside. The lighting was dim, everything cast in this soft gold glow that made the shadows stretch longer than they should. The floor was stone, the ceilings high enough to echo, and the air smelled faintly of sage and something sharp—like iron or earth after rain.

A woman sat at the front desk, clacking away at a keyboard. She looked…distracted. Early thirties maybe, a coffee mug in her hand, earbuds in like she hadn't noticed we were standing there.

"Uh, hi," Mom said gently.

The woman startled, tugged out one earbud, and smiled too wide. "Oh! Hello! Sorry. You must be the Wells family. Aurora, right?“

„That's me,“ I said, lifting a hand in a tiny wave.

"Right, right. Okay, I've got you here…” She squinted at the screen. "Aurora… Dorm 3B. Assigned roommates… four of them—wow, you're going to have a full house.”

She slid a manila folder across the desk toward me. "This has your schedule, a campus map, and a few rule sheets. Someone from dorm 3 will meet you to show you around in a bit.“

"Thanks," I said, trying to peek at the paperwork inside the folder. The class names looked weird—Lunar Pathfinding, Pack Psychology, Advanced shifting theory. I blinked at the last one.

"Uh…shifting?"

The woman blinked. "Mmm?" Then her eyes widened. "Oh! Oh no, wait. Did I—?“

Mom leaned forward, brows knit. „Is something wrong?“

"No! No, no, I just—uh, it's fine. Everything's in order.” She gave another too-bright smile and waved her hand. "Welcome to Moonbound! You're going to love it here.“

I didn't believe her.

Neither did my mom, by the look on her face.

But before either of us could say anything, a tall, dark-haired guy stepped into the room.

And everything shifted.

Three days before my mating ceremony with Alpha Cole Hagen, his childhood friend Alice Vanderbilt barged into our home at dawn. She claimed they were going on one last "bachelor trip" together.

She shot me an innocent look. "Bailey, it's a bachelor trip after all. It wouldn't be right to bring you along. You're not mad, are you?"

Cole shrugged. "It's fine. She'll understand."

"And the ceremony?" I asked.

"It's three days away, Bailey. I'll make it back."

Watching them leave with their luggage, I felt a sudden wave of boredom.

I was done with Cole taking my tolerance for granted.

I erased every trace of my existence from the house, blocked his number, and walked away for good.

…

Every waking hour was consumed by the endless tasks for the upcoming mating ceremony.

Since Cole ruled the Nightglow Pack, the ritual had to be grand and solemn.

While he dismissed the preparations as chores for the help, I insisted on handling everything.

It was my ceremony too, and I needed to prove to everyone that I was worthy of the Luna title.

But three days before the big day, the peace of our bedroom was shattered at dawn.

The door swung open, and my inner wolf went into a full combat alert, growling at the intruder.

Cole sat up slowly. As an Alpha, his senses were sharper than mine, yet he remained unfazed. "Relax, it's just Alice."

"No fun at all," Alice said, leaning against the frame with a staged sigh. "I still can't sneak up on you, Cole. Some things never change."

Cole only responded with a doting smile.

Alice glanced at my defensive stance and feigned shock. "Oh, Bailey, are you okay? Did I scare you? I'm so sorry—Cole and I have always played around like this."

There wasn't a hint of regret in her eyes.

Cole turned to me as well. "Chill, Bailey. She's always been this way."

It took a moment for my wolf to finally settle down.

I glared at Alice, demanding to know why she was barging into our bedroom in the middle of the night.

"To take Cole on his bachelor trip, of course!" Alice chirped.

Then, her tone shifted. "But... a bachelor trip isn't for mates. You won't mind, will you, Bailey?"

I ignored her and waited for Cole's response.

"A bachelor trip? Sounds amazing! I'll go pack right now," Cole said, his eyes lighting up.

I looked up at him. "And what about our ceremony?"

"It's no big deal. We still have three days. What's the rush? I'll definitely be back the day before."

My heart sank.

A 'no big deal'? So that's all our mating ceremony was to him—just a trivial matter.

"Cole Hagen! Tell me to my face. Are you really leaving right now for this bullsh*t trip?"

He frowned. "This is my last taste of freedom, Bailey. I won't get another chance after this."

I opened my mouth to ask if the bond was a cage to him, but Alice cut me off.

"Hurry up, Cole! Let's get moving. Time waits for no one."

Cole ignored me, threw on his clothes, grabbed a bag, and prepared to head out with her.

"Wait for me at home. I'll be there for the ceremony," Cole said.

"It's just a damn ritual; there's no need to handle everything yourself. Take a break these next few days."

The door closed, cutting me off from the world as their laughter and voices drifted back from the hallway.

"Cole, Bailey looks pissed. Maybe you should go back."

"Leave her be. That's just who she is. I'm going to make the most of this trip!"

The silence that followed was deafening. Surveying the emptiness, a crushing weariness washed over me.

For as long as I'd been with Cole, Alice had used their history as a hall pass to invade our private life.

And Cole never failed to side with her, insisting they were just "best friends" and that I was overreacting.

Now, he had the nerve to ditch our ceremony for a pathetic bachelor trip.

I was sick of it.

A cold resolve settled in my heart. I would use these few days to make my exit and leave this godforsaken place behind.

My inner wolf snarled with fury.

"Have a blast on your trip, Cole. By the time you get back, you'll be left with absolutely nothing!"

After the divorce, Claire Bennett slipped away to a charming little town far from home.

New name. New phone. Every thread to her old life cut clean.

Nobody knew where she'd gone.

And nobody knew she was carrying Miles Lockwood's baby.

Until a rainy night, when the little boy's fever spiked to 104.

She ran him into the ER, hands shaking, digging through her bag until her fingers closed around a card she'd forgotten she still had.

Black. Heavy. His.

Back in Oakhaven, Miles's phone lit up.

[Transaction Alert: $320 – Pediatric ER]

His blood turned to ice.

Pediatric... emergency?

Whose kid?

He called her. Once. Twice.

On the ninth ring, she picked up.

"Clairie." His voice cracked open, hoarse and shaking. "Tell me where you are. Tell me about the kid."

Nothing came back but her ragged breathing and a small, broken whimper.

"Clairie." He was already behind the wheel, flooring it, veins roping up his forearms. "Don't hang up. Please."

The man who had always been so cold was now begging humbly, over and over.

Claire looked down at the boy in her arms.

Same eyes. Same stubborn mouth. Nine-tenths his father.

Her eyes fell shut.

The memories and the heart she had buried with time began to beat once again.

***

Their second anniversary.

Miles said he had a surprise for her. Told her to wait at home.

So she wore the white dress he loved, lit the candles, cooked his favorite dinner, and waited.

She waited.

And waited.

Midnight came and went. The door never opened.

Cops didn't get to keep normal hours. She knew that. It didn't stop her stomach from knotting up.

One in the morning, her phone buzzed on the table.

Miles.

She snatched it up. Music and voices roared through the speaker.

"Did something happen?" she asked, soft.

Silence. Long enough for her chest to tighten. Then his voice, low and flat.

"Sorry. I'm not coming home tonight."

"Claire!" A woman's voice slid in. One Claire would know anywhere. "My friends threw me a welcome-back party. Come out, have some fun with us. Meet some people."

The line went dead before she could say a word.

Claire sat there gripping the phone, staring at two plates of food gone cold.

Elodie Hutton.

Of course. That explained why he'd stood her up without so much as a text.

His precious girl was home.

Elodie was his stepsister.

Back when they were only dating, Miles used to vanish for hours. Calls unanswered. Texts left on read.

And when Claire pushed, the answers never changed.

"Went home."

"Didn't check my phone."

Or, simplest of all:

"Elodie wasn't feeling well."

Claire wasn't feeling so great either.

But she'd told herself the girl was family. He had a responsibility.

Then came the wedding.

Elodie collapsed in the middle of the reception.

A ballroom packed with guests, and Miles cut through all of them, scooped her off the floor, and walked out.

Claire spent her wedding night alone in an empty suite.

The next morning Elodie showed up with wet lashes and a trembling apology. Said it was all her fault. Every bit of it.

Something hot twisted in Claire's chest and a scoff slipped out before she could stop it.

Her brand-new husband turned and gave her a look sharp enough to draw blood.

She swallowed every word she'd wanted to say.

Later, word got around that Elodie had gone overseas.

Claire let herself breathe. Let herself believe she and Miles finally had a shot at something quiet. Something happy.

Turns out a dream is just the part before you wake up.

Chapter 2.

Half an hour later, Claire stood outside the private room.

One deep breath.

Then she pushed the door open.

Laughter slammed into her, loud and careless.

Her eyes locked on the two people at the center of the leather sofa.

Elodie had both hands wrapped around Miles's arm, leaning in close, murmuring something that made her giggle every few seconds.

Miles barely spoke. But the corner of his mouth curved up anyway.

"Whoa! Who's this?" someone yelled. "Gorgeous. Girl looks like she walked off a movie set."

"That's Miles's wife."

The laughter cut out.

Every head in the room turned. Every pair of eyes settled on her, hungry for a show.

Elodie's chin lifted like she'd only just noticed her, and she smiled.

"Claire. You made it."

Claire didn't answer.

Her gaze dropped to Elodie's fingers, still curled tight around Miles's arm.

Realizing it was inappropriate, Miles tugged his arm back.

Elodie held on tighter.

"When did you get back?" Claire asked.

Elodie's giggle died. She looked up, that sweet, harmless look still glued to her face.

"A month ago."

A blink. Calm. Innocent as a hymn.

"Miles didn't tell you?"

A month ago.

Claire turned the number over in her head.

No wonder he'd been so busy lately.

So that was it.

Claire smiled back at her. "Nope. He never said a word. I had no idea."

Elodie released his arm at once, all playful outrage.

"See? That's on you. You should've told Claire."

Miles's brows pulled together. He glanced at Claire and gave her two words.

"Stop it."

Was he calling her petty? Or was he protecting Elodie, warning her not to poke the wife?

Claire knew which one.

Elodie looked pleased with herself. She stole a glance at Claire, then softened her voice.

"Claire, don't be mad at him. You know how he is. Honestly—"

"Enough." Miles cut her off, catching the jacket sliding off her shoulder and pulling it back up. "You'll get cold."

The room exploded into hoots.

"Man, years go by and Miles is still spoiling Elodie!" one of the guys shouted. "She loses a round tonight, do her shots just go straight to you?"

"Seriously, dude. Your wife's standing right there. You keep hovering over Elodie—you're not scared Claire's gonna blow up?"

"Elodie's been frail since we were kids. Of course I look out for her." Miles glanced at Claire, voice flat. "Claire is sensible. She doesn't care about stuff like this."

The whole room roared.

Something coiled around Claire's ribs and pulled tight. Air came in thin.

Sensible.

So that was the title she'd earned. Years of stepping aside, swallowing things, playing nice.

Easygoing.

Someone suggested a game. Loser takes three shots.

Round one. The dice rattled across the table.

Claire lost.

"Claire! Fair's fair. Three shots, no cheating!"

A guy slid three glasses of vodka across to her, smirking. The dig in his eyes wasn't even hidden.

He wouldn't have dared without Elodie's blessing.

Miles reached for the glasses on instinct.

The guy blocked his hand and pitched his voice loud enough for the whole room.

"Nope, nope, nope! House rules—you only drink for someone if the other side agrees! Come on, Claire, you're not making Miles take your shots, are you? That's weak."

Elodie tugged at Miles's sleeve, sugar in every syllable.

"Miles, rules are rules. She came, so she plays. Otherwise everyone's gonna say you play favorites with your wife."

Then she looked at Claire.

The dare in that look might as well have been in neon.

Claire laughed once, low and dry.

She pushed Miles's hand away.

Grabbed the first glass.

She threw back the first glass, then the second, and then the third, her teeth clenched tight.

The vodka scorched a path down her throat. Her eyes stung.

She refused to let a single tear fall.

Not here. Not in front of Elodie.

By the third glass she was coughing, shoulders shaking, throat bitter and raw, her whole body gone stiff.

Applause broke out. Somebody whistled. "Damn, Claire! Badass!"

Miles pressed a glass of warm water into her hand and patted her back.

"I thought you quit drinking."

Claire sniffed hard and took the water.

"We're not trying for a baby anymore," she said. "So what's the point?"

Three days before my mating ceremony with Alpha Cole Hagen, his childhood friend Alice Vanderbilt barged into our home at dawn. She claimed they were going on one last "bachelor trip" together.
She shot me an innocent look. "Bailey, it's a bachelor trip after all. It wouldn't be right to bring you along. You're not mad, are you?"
Cole shrugged. "It's fine. She'll understand."
"And the ceremony?" I asked.
"It's three days away, Bailey. I'll make it back."
Watching them leave with their luggage, I felt a sudden wave of boredom.
I was done with Cole taking my tolerance for granted.
I erased every trace of my existence from the house, blocked his number, and walked away for good.
…
Every waking hour was consumed by the endless tasks for the upcoming mating ceremony.
Since Cole ruled the Nightglow Pack, the ritual had to be grand and solemn.
While he dismissed the preparations as chores for the help, I insisted on handling everything.
It was my ceremony too, and I needed to prove to everyone that I was worthy of the Luna title.
But three days before the big day, the peace of our bedroom was shattered at dawn.
The door swung open, and my inner wolf went into a full combat alert, growling at the intruder.
Cole sat up slowly. As an Alpha, his senses were sharper than mine, yet he remained unfazed. "Relax, it's just Alice."
"No fun at all," Alice said, leaning against the frame with a staged sigh. "I still can't sneak up on you, Cole. Some things never change."
Cole only responded with a doting smile.
Alice glanced at my defensive stance and feigned shock. "Oh, Bailey, are you okay? Did I scare you? I'm so sorry—Cole and I have always played around like this."
There wasn't a hint of regret in her eyes.
Cole turned to me as well. "Chill, Bailey. She's always been this way."
It took a moment for my wolf to finally settle down.
I glared at Alice, demanding to know why she was barging into our bedroom in the middle of the night.
"To take Cole on his bachelor trip, of course!" Alice chirped.
Then, her tone shifted. "But... a bachelor trip isn't for mates. You won't mind, will you, Bailey?"
I ignored her and waited for Cole's response.
"A bachelor trip? Sounds amazing! I'll go pack right now," Cole said, his eyes lighting up.
I looked up at him. "And what about our ceremony?"
"It's no big deal. We still have three days. What's the rush? I'll definitely be back the day before."
My heart sank.
A 'no big deal'? So that's all our mating ceremony was to him—just a trivial matter.
"Cole Hagen! Tell me to my face. Are you really leaving right now for this bullsh*t trip?"
He frowned. "This is my last taste of freedom, Bailey. I won't get another chance after this."
I opened my mouth to ask if the bond was a cage to him, but Alice cut me off.
"Hurry up, Cole! Let's get moving. Time waits for no one."
Cole ignored me, threw on his clothes, grabbed a bag, and prepared to head out with her.
"Wait for me at home. I'll be there for the ceremony," Cole said.
"It's just a damn ritual; there's no need to handle everything yourself. Take a break these next few days."
The door closed, cutting me off from the world as their laughter and voices drifted back from the hallway.
"Cole, Bailey looks pissed. Maybe you should go back."
"Leave her be. That's just who she is. I'm going to make the most of this trip!"
The silence that followed was deafening. Surveying the emptiness, a crushing weariness washed over me.
For as long as I'd been with Cole, Alice had used their history as a hall pass to invade our private life.
And Cole never failed to side with her, insisting they were just "best friends" and that I was overreacting.
Now, he had the nerve to ditch our ceremony for a pathetic bachelor trip.
I was sick of it.
A cold resolve settled in my heart. I would use these few days to make my exit and leave this godforsaken place behind.
My inner wolf snarled with fury.
"Have a blast on your trip, Cole. By the time you get back, you'll be left with absolutely nothing!"

The whole family was taking Freya’s graduation trip to Elaris.

We hit the airport check-in counter. My Alpha dad laid out our passports and tickets. Mine was nowhere in the stack.

His brows tightened. He dug through every pocket for ages before smacking his forehead.

“Crap. I had our Beta book flights and totally forgot to add your name.”

Freya latched onto her boyfriend Caius’s sleeve instantly. Tears flooded her eyes in seconds.

“I’m so sorry, Maeve. I rushed Dad to lock everything in fast. Maybe I shouldn’t go either.”

Caius stepped forward to shield her. His stare burned into me, thick with unhidden disgust.

“This isn’t Freya’s fault. If you can’t tag along, so what? She’s fine hanging around the house all the time anyway.”

Mom walked over, snatched my custom travel bag right out of my grip, and handed it to Freya.

“Don’t be upset with your dad, Maeve. Head home for now, yeah? We’ll bring you next trip, promise.”

She didn’t even ask how I’d haul my heavy luggage back alone.

I watched them rush toward security. For the first time ever, I didn’t cry a single tear.

“Fine. I’m skipping it. Have a great trip.”

They boarded the flight to Elaris. I turned and walked into the terminal next door.

Hidden deep in my backpack was an acceptance letter no one in my family knew existed.

I’d gotten into Royal Lycan Academy—three thousand miles from our hometown pack.

...

I hadn’t breathed a word about my applications to anyone.

The enrollment paperwork needed a parent signature. I waited until Dad’s busiest afternoon to slide it across his desk.

He’d been buried paying Freya’s fancy etiquette school fees. He grabbed the pen, and signed without reading the header at all.

The physical exam and interview over in Westervale. I just told my family I was crashing at a classmate’s place for two days, headed out to Westervale. Not one person bothered to ask which friend’s house.

I sat on the hard plastic lounge chair, biting my last bite of bread, when my phone lit up.

Our family group chat popped with a photo.

Freya held her champagne boarding pass up to the camera, throwing a peace sign. Caius’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, grinning wide.

Mom’s voice note popped right after.

“Freya’s first business class flight—she’s over the moon.”

Dad replied with a thumbs-up emoji.

Four of them. Not a single mention of me. No texts checking if I’d gotten home safe.

A private message pinged from Freya, capped with a smiley emoji.

Freya: [Maeve, I hung a new dress on the balcony. Grab it before it rains, okay?]

My finger hovered over the text box for a long beat.

Maeve: [Okay.]

I scrolled up through three years of our chats after hitting send.

Every request she’d ever sent me fell into three buckets: Grab her packages, turn her homework in, cover for her when she get home late.

Every single one opened with that line.

“Can you help me…”

The boarding announcement for flights to the capital blared through the speakers. That’s where Royal Lycan Academy sat.

My acceptance letter sat sealed in a waterproof pouch at the very bottom of my backpack, right next to my pack transfer papers.

The day the letter showed up at our house, Dad was throwing a whole celebration for Freya’s acceptance into her Omega academy.

Balloons lined every wall in the living room, and the cake read Freya, Bright Future Ahead.

The delivery guy hit the bell three times. I answered the door and signed for the package myself.

When I walked back inside, everyone clinked glasses together. Mom shot me a quick glance.

“You got into some school too? Where’s it located?”

I said the name out loud. No one at the table reacted. Freya leaned forward, curious.

“Where’s that? Never heard of it.”

Caius had dated Freya since freshman year, and our packs were old family friends. He ate dinner at our place more than his own, so he never filtered his words around us.

He scoffed.

“Probably some random garbage community college. Maeve’s grades were barely enough to land her any school at all.”

He cut the first thick slice of cake and handed it to Freya, then flicked his gaze back to me.

“Hey, Maeve—how much’s tuition there? If it’s insane, just tell Mom and Dad. Freya’s got tons of Omega training classes lined up, the pack’s resources should prioritize her.”

Dad set his fork down, exhaustion heavy in his voice.

“Cut that out. Feeding two kids costs the same as one—don’t ruin your sister’s big day.”

No one asked follow-up questions. No one pulled out their phones to look the school up. None of them grasped what those three words meant.

Royal Lycan Academy.

The nation’s top lycan military institute, only recruiting young wolves with elite innate power. Our province only accepted twelve students each year.

I stood off to the side with a plain glass of water, watching Freya tear open gift after gift and scatter wrapping paper all over the floor.

Not a single person invited me to sit and share a slice of cake.

Lines had already formed at my boarding gate.

I muted notifications for the family group chat, grabbed my beat-up suitcase with the rusted zipper, and stood up.

Over by international departures, they’d already boarded their flight bound for Elaris.

Domestic departures? I walked alone toward the capital.

We were going opposite directions.

Starting today, our lives would be too.

My sister had married into the wealthy Halcroft family.

At our first family dinner, I took one look at Leith Halcroft—my brother-in-law’s younger brother—and decided I wanted him.

He couldn’t speak, so I figured he couldn’t rat me out.

After that, I slipped into his room every night and teased him until his ears burned red.

One night, just as I had him blushing all the way to his ears, comments suddenly flashed across my vision.

[The villainess is DISGUSTING. She won’t stop sexually harassing the male lead!]

[Relax. She’s about to get what’s coming to her. The obsessive male lead is almost out of patience, and he’ll soon destroy both her and her sister.]

[Their ending is SO satisfying. He kicks them out, makes sure they have nowhere left to go, and drives them both to their deaths.]

I didn’t believe a word of it.

Then, in the very next second, I heard Leith’s thoughts.

[I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!]

***

Couldn’t take what?

Me flirting with him?

I hadn’t believed the comments at first. Whenever I teased Leith, he always looked reluctant, but he never actually stopped me.

He let me flirt with him every single time.

I was convinced he liked me too. He was just too shy to show it.

But after hearing that thought, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

After a moment of hesitation, I decided to test him.

I leaned in without warning and kissed the corner of his mouth.

Leith’s face went scarlet.

He shoved me away and rushed into the bathroom.

More comments appeared.

[Is the villainess INSANE? She just stole the male lead’s first kiss!]

[One kiss made him run to the bathroom to throw up. That’s not dislike. That’s a full-body rejection.]

[No wonder he doesn’t even look at her when she begs for mercy later. He just has his men beat her and throw her out.]

I walked to the bathroom door.

Then I heard Leith’s thoughts again.

[This is driving me crazy! I seriously CAN’T TAKE IT anymore!]

I froze.

That was when I finally believed the comments.

Leith Halcroft hated me.

"Ms. Nolan, we need to perform an emergency D&C on you right away. Has any family member arrived?"

Ava Nolan had lost count of how many times the nurse had pressed her. She sat slumped in the wheelchair, stared blankly at the blood running down her legs, and then glanced at her phone.

After the car crash, she'd been pinned under the twisted wreckage of the cab, and as she was being rushed to the ER, she'd tried Tristan Foster's number over thirty times. However, every single call had gone straight to a cold, automated busy tone.

This morning, she'd hailed a cab on her way to work when a red Maserati slammed into them, flipping the cab sideways and sending it plunging into the river.

The Maserati driver was attended to by a private medical team within minutes and whisked away to the hospital.

Ava, in contrast, was left behind. She couldn't reach Tristan no matter how many times she tried, and she spent two agonizing hours in the freezing water before rescuers finally pulled her out.

Survival had come at a brutal price: her amniotic sac had ruptured, and the baby's heart had already stopped beating. She'd cried so much that there wasn't a single tear left.

"Ms. Nolan?" the nurse asked again.

Ava snapped back to the present. She was covered in filth and blood, sitting in a puddle of amniotic fluid mixed with red, looking like she'd been dragged through hell.

Her lips quivered as she scraped together whatever dignity she had left. "My husband might be caught up with something. Can I sign the paperwork myself?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible. On top of everything else, you've got a mild concussion. After the procedure, you'll need to be monitored, and we can't proceed without a family member present to sign off. Maybe try him one more time?" the nurse said.

"Alright. I'll try again," Ava replied.

She watched the nurse walk away, then pulled on her long black down jacket and pushed herself to her feet. She planned to find another hospital, one that wouldn't make her jump through hoops for a family signature.

As she slipped her phone into her pocket, her fingers brushed against the prenatal report from yesterday. Back then, her baby had still been alive.

She stepped out of the ward and overheard two nurses chatting nearby.

"Hey, do you know who's in the VIP room next door?"

"Who?"

"Serena, the Sutton heiress. She's won awards in finance, racing, and tech. She's a real prodigy, and she was even recruited for a national research project not long ago."

"No kidding? What's she doing here? Is she ill or hurt? If anything happened to her, that'd be a huge loss for the country."

"She rear-ended someone on the overpass this morning in her red Maserati. She's only got a few scrapes, but her boyfriend was frantic. He rushed over the second he heard about it, used the hospital's VIP entrance, and hasn't left her side since."

Ava froze at the mention of the accident. Then the next words hit her like a freight train.

"You'll never guess who her boyfriend is. Tristan, the head of Foster Group. And that red Maserati she was driving? He gave it to her as a birthday present," the first nurse said.

The two nurses wandered off, their voices fading into the distance.

Ava's grip on her phone tightened until her knuckles went white. She muttered inwardly, 'The person who caused the crash is Serena Sutton, and the man who'd bought her the car is Tristan Foster.'

She'd never thought that her husband would cheat on her. What stung even worse was the cruel irony: his mistress drove the sports car he'd given her and killed their unborn child.

Now, Ava understood why the police had only sent an insurance adjuster and nothing else.

As she reached the end of the hallway, she spotted a tall, handsome man with his arm wrapped protectively around a stunningly beautiful woman as they stepped out of a ward.

Ava clutched the ultrasound report confirming the missed miscarriage, her body trembling uncontrollably beneath her black down jacket.

She watched them walk toward the elevator and felt a desperate urge to make one final call to Tristan. She wanted to see how he would react if he saw her name on the screen.

She knew he'd probably decline it, the same way he always did, but she still wanted to try one last time.

As the elevator doors slid open, she watched Tristan glance at his phone, reject the call without hesitation, and immediately turn his attention back to Serena. His focus was locked entirely on Serena, as if nothing else in the world existed.

In that single instant, Ava felt that her four years of infatuation were pathetic and laughable.

As the two of them stepped into the elevator, Serena seemed to notice Ava standing there and asked, "Tristan, why is that old-looking woman over there staring at us with red-rimmed eyes?"

Tristan finally glanced over. His gaze was cold and indifferent, as if he were looking at a stranger he'd never met before. Then his eyes were back on the woman in his arms.

The blood drained from Ava's face, and she could feel the bleeding beneath her getting worse by the minute. She didn't catch what Tristan said in response. All she heard was "old-looking woman."

She was only twenty-four, but pregnancy hormones had swollen her face and dulled her features. She looked haggard and worn, more like a tired forty-year-old than a woman in her mid-twenties.

She stood there and watched the elevator doors close until Tristan vanished from sight.

She knew that if not for the accidental night two years ago, and the pressure from his grandparents, especially his grandmother who'd always had a soft spot for her, he never would have married her.

After the wedding, he didn't touch her at all. It wasn't until four months ago, when his grandmother insisted they produce an heir, that he finally slept with her.

That night, though, his roughness, his total indifference, and the undisguised disgust in his eyes afterward had shattered whatever illusions she'd been clinging to.

Tears streamed down Ava's face, and her legs could barely hold her up anymore.

The nurse from earlier came rushing over and caught her before she hit the floor.

"My husband is with someone else. He's not coming. Please, perform the surgery. I'll take full responsibility. I'll sign—" Ava collapsed before she could finish the sentence.

When she opened her eyes again, she was lying in a hospital bed.

After what felt like an eternity, the nurse came in, removed her IV, and sighed. "You had severe hemorrhaging, so we went ahead and performed the procedure. We tried using your phone to contact your husband, but we couldn't get through at all.

"It was twins, a boy and a girl. They were already clearly formed. It's such a tragedy. If you'd gotten here a little sooner, we might've been able to save them."

Ava took the surgery report and stared at it for a long, silent moment. Her babies were gone, and it was twins. She'd felt them moving inside her.

She'd gone to multiple checkups at the Foster Hospital, yet every time they'd told her she was carrying a single baby.

"Could you put the fetal tissue in this box for me?" she asked the nurse.

She handed over a small black container, and after the nurse sealed it, she wrapped it in black paper and tied a neat bow around it. If no one knew any better, they'd think it was a gift.

She took a few minutes to collect herself, then left the hospital clutching the black container and headed back to Riverstone Estate.

It was Tristan's property, and his grandmother, Claire, had installed a full staff there to look after Ava during the pregnancy. She'd even sent Tristan's mother, Kaia, over to take care of Ava.

The second Ava walked through the front door, Nancy Jenkins, one of the housekeepers, marched up to her with a sour, contemptuous look plastered across her face.

Nancy said, "Mrs. Foster went out with her friends. Before she left, she said she wanted chicken soup when she got back, so you'd better have it ready.

After four years with Caleb Mercer, I thought I truly belonged in his inner circle.

Then one day, he left his phone behind when he went to shower, and a Messenger group chat notification flashed across the screen.

The group chat was called “Life’s Better Without Nora Bennett.”

The chat had eight members. Among them were Caleb; his sister, Rachel Mercer; his two childhood friends, Dylan Ross and Trevor Hale; my roommate; my best friend, Brooke Lawson; and even my own younger brother, Owen Bennett.

I stood frozen as the messages kept appearing.

Rachel: [She’s not coming to the cookout Saturday, right? Last time she was there, no one could really let loose.]

Brooke replied: [Don’t worry. I told her I had to work that day. She won’t suspect anything.]

Owen sent a smirking emoji.

Caleb replied: [Okay. Same place as usual. I’ll reserve our spot.]

I scrolled up through the chat history.

The group had been created two years and three months earlier. There were more than seven hundred messages.

Every happy plan in that chat depended on keeping me out of it.

On my birthday last year, they had been sorting out teams for an escape-room night that weekend.

When I asked Caleb why everyone had ignored me that day, he said, “Everyone’s been busy lately.”

They had been busy having fun. They had been busy having fun without me.

As the phone screen went dark, the shower shut off.

Caleb came out wrapped in a towel. When he saw me standing in the living room, he asked casually, “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing. I just saw something funny.”

He said, “Oh,” and took the phone from me.

I turned, walked into the bedroom, and started packing my suitcase.

***

The zipper on my suitcase sounded unnaturally loud. The bedroom door was still open, and the TV was playing in the living room.

Caleb called from the living room, “I cut up some watermelon. It’s in the fridge. Want any?”

I didn’t answer.

“Nora?” he called again.

“No.”

After a few seconds of silence, he came to the bedroom doorway and leaned against the frame, glancing inside.

“What are you packing for? Do you have a business trip tomorrow?”

“Yeah. It came up at the last minute.”

He didn’t ask anything else. He turned and went back to the living room.

I heard him unlock his phone. He was probably reading the group chat, all those messages about having fun without me.

I packed three items of clothing, my skincare products, a charger, and my state ID.

After a moment’s thought, I took the necklace he had given me out of the nightstand and returned it to its original box.

I wasn’t taking anything that wasn’t mine.

As I zipped the suitcase shut, my phone buzzed.

Brooke: [Nora, I have to work Saturday, so I can’t go shopping with you. Rain check?]

She had even added an apologetic emoji.

I stared at the message for a long time. Had she typed it right after coordinating the lie with everyone in that group chat?

Me: [Okay.]

It was a single, unadorned word.

Early the next morning, I dragged my suitcase out of the apartment.

Caleb was still asleep, and I didn’t wake him.

My phone rang while I was downstairs waiting for a cab. It was Owen.

“Nora, Mom wants you to come over for dinner this weekend. Are you coming?”

“No. I’m leaving on a business trip.”

“Another one? Is your company working you to death?”

His voice was as light and easy as ever, but all I could see was the smirking emoji he had sent in the group chat the night before.

“Owen.”

“Yeah?”

“Never mind.”

I ended the call and climbed into the cab.

When the driver asked where I was going, I gave him the name of a hotel.

I wasn’t leaving on a business trip. I just didn’t want to go back to that apartment for a while.

The hotel was close to my office, and I booked the room for a week.

After putting down my luggage, I sat on the edge of the bed and opened Caleb’s Facebook profile.

His latest post was from three days earlier—a photo of him and several other people at a barbecue joint, all of them grinning at the camera.

Rachel was there, along with Dylan, Trevor, Brooke, and Owen.

I was the only one missing.

I remembered that night.

When I had asked Caleb what he was doing, he said he had to work late.

I had even texted him not to overdo it, and he had replied with a brief “Okay.”

Apparently, his “Okay” had really meant he was out with everyone behind my back, so I should stop bothering him.

I set my phone facedown on the bed and lay back.

Exhaustion hit me all at once. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples.

A little while later, Caleb called.

“You get there okay? What city are you in?”

“I’m here.”

“Be careful, okay? Don’t go out tonight.”

“All right.”

“Okay, I’ve got to go. I’m busy today too.”

Busy doing what? Planning the next outing without me?

“Okay.”

The call ended.

I spent three days at the hotel, and no one realized I wasn’t actually away on business.

On the fourth day, Brooke asked me to meet her for coffee. She said she was finally done working late and wanted to catch up.

I agreed.

At the coffee shop, she stirred her latte and smiled brightly at me. “Back from your trip? Are you exhausted?”

“I’m fine.”

“Did Caleb call you?”

“That man is completely clueless. With you gone, he probably can’t even be bothered to make himself dinner.”

I searched her face for even a flicker of guilt.

There was none.

She was so convincing that anyone would have believed nothing had happened.

“Brooke, how late did you work Saturday?”

She blinked. “What? Oh, a little after nine. I was exhausted.”

“Sounds rough.”

“Tell me about it.” She sighed. “Next time, I promise.”

I took a sip of my coffee. The unsweetened Americano was bitter, but it went down easier than anything she had just said.

On my way back to the hotel, I got a message from Caleb.

Caleb: [Are you coming back tomorrow? One of the pipes is leaking. Can you find a plumber?]

Four years together, and this was what I had become to him.

When he needed me, I was his roommate, his housekeeper, and his handyman.

When he didn’t, I was the name singled out in the title of their group chat.

Me: [Call maintenance.]

Caleb replied immediately: [Maintenance takes forever. Can you call and stay on them?]

I stared at the screen, suddenly struck by how absurd it was.

Had he ever once wondered why I wasn’t home? Or did he simply not care?

Me: [Do it yourself.]

A long time later, Caleb replied: [Fine.]

There wasn’t even a question mark.

The white lights located on the ceiling in the hospital hallway buzzed silently overhead as I sat in the uncomfortable plastic chai tensed as I clutched my phone tightly in my trembling hands. I had been waiting for nearly forty minutes at this point for my doctor, Dr. Reynolds to call me back with my test results, and the knots in my stomach had tightened with each passing minute as I anticipated the worst.

I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to hear my son's voice.

My fingers moved almost automatically tapping the first number that popped up in my speed dial, which happened to be my husband Logan's, line. I pressed the dial button and watched as the phone rang once, twice, three times before he finally answered.

"Logan, where did you take Nick?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady even as another wave of nausea rolled through me and I forced myself not to throw up on the floor.

"I'm not feeling well. Can you please bring him home? I haven't seen him in three days."

There was a pause on the other end, followed by muffled sounds in the background, it sounded like laughter, maybe? Children screaming with delight in the background.

"Sorry, not tonight," Logan said flatly, his voice carrying that detached tone it had held for the past two months whenever he was addressing me.

My heart sank at his words. "Why not?"

He didn't give an answer. I pulled my phone from my ears and saw that the call was still ongoing so I repeated.

"Logan, I asked you a question. Why can't you bring our son home?"

More silence. I could hear the sounds more clearly now, it sounded like carnival music, and I could also hear the distant roar of a roller coaster. My chest tightened at this.

"Are you with Katherine?" The name tasted bitter on my tongue.

"That's none of your business, Sedona."

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone, my hands shaking so badly I nearly dropped it. None of my business? Our son was with them, and it was none of my business?

Before I could process what had just happened, my phone chimed with a new message. My blood ran cold when I saw Katherine's name on the screen.

I shouldn't have opened it. I knew I shouldn't have, Katherine had sworn to be a thorn in my life, a very painful thorn, but I was a masochist and couldn't stop myself as my fingers moved of their own accord, tapping the notification.

The photo loaded slowly, each picture a fresh stab to my heart. There they were—Logan, Katherine, and Nick—standing in front of Cinderella's Castle at Disneyland.

Logan had his arm around Katherine's waist. Katherine was holding Nick's hand, her perfect smile glowing under the sun. And my baby, nIck was beaming at her with pure adoration, that I hadn't seen in months.

They looked like a family. A complete, happy family.

And I was the outsider.

Shame and fury was fighting for dominance inside me as I pulled up Katherine's number with shaking fingers. She answered on the first ring, as if she'd been waiting for my call.

"Katherine," I said, my teeth gritted with pain as I spat. "I don't care what game you're playing with Logan, but Nick is my son. You can have Logan if that's what you want, but you will never, ever take my child from me."

"Really?" Her voice was light, amused, like I'd just told her a particularly entertaining joke to her. "Why don't you ask Nick about that?"

"What are you—"

"Nick, sweetie, your mother's on the phone. Do you want to talk to her?"

My heart leaped. Yes. Yes, I needed to hear his voice, needed him to tell me that he missed me, that he wanted to come home.

"Mom?" Nick's voice came through, but it wasn't the sweet tone I'd been hoping for. It was annoyed, exasperated. "What do you want?"

"Nick, sweetheart, I—"

"We're having fun. Stop bothering us. You're so annoying."

The line went dead.

I sat there, frozen, the phone pressed against my ear even though there was nothing but silence on the other end. My six-year-old son had just called me annoying. He'd told me to stop bothering them. As if I was a stranger interrupting them and not his mum.

"Mrs. Hayes?"

I looked up to find Dr. Reynolds standing in front of me, a manila folder clutched in his hands. His expression was grave, the kind of look that Immediately told me that he planned on delivering bad news.

"Let's talk in my office," he said gently.

I followed him, on autopilot, my mind still reeling from Nick told me. The office was bigger than I expected, although it had been on autopilot, cramped with medical books and framed diplomas. I sank into the chair across from his desk, waiting for the bad news to drop.

Dr. Reynolds sat down and opened the folder, studying the papers inside for a long moment before looking up at me.

"Sedona, I'm not going to sugarcoat this. Your test results show significant abnormalities. Combined with your symptoms—the persistent pain, the nausea, the weight loss—we ran additional scans."

He paused, for a moment before he continued speaking.

"You have gastric cancer. Stage three. It's already spread to the lymph nodes."

The words didn't make sense at first. They were just sounds, syllables strung together. Cancer. Stage three. Spread.

"What does that mean?" I heard myself ask, my voice sounding distant, like it belonged to someone else.

Dr. Reynolds's expression softened with sympathy. "With aggressive treatment—chemotherapy, possibly surgery—we might be able to extend your life expectancy. But I need to be honest with you. Without treatment, you're looking at three months, maybe four at most. With treatment, perhaps a year, maybe more if you respond well."

Three months. Ninety days.

I thought of Nick's face in that photo, smiling up at Katherine. I thought of Logan's arm around her waist. I thought of my son calling me annoying, telling me to stop bothering them.

"Mrs. Hayes? Sedona? Do you have someone you can call? You shouldn't be alone right now."

I shook my head slowly. Who would I call? My husband who wouldn't answer? My son who found me annoying? I'd cut ties with my family years ago when I ran from that arranged marriage, too proud and too in love to ever go back.

"I'm fine," I whispered, though I was anything but.

Dr. Reynolds scheduled a follow-up appointment, handed me pamphlets about treatment options and support groups, said something about hope and fighting spirit. I nodded mechanically, taking the papers he pressed into my hands.

I walked out of that hospital in a daze, clutching my death sentence in a manila folder. The summer sun was too bright, the Chicago streets too loud. Everything still felt like a dream, and I was watching it happen to someone else.

My phone buzzed with another message. Another photo from Katherine. This time, the picture was of Nick asleep in a hotel bed, Logan sitting beside him, his hand gently stroking our son's hair.

I stood on the sidewalk, people rushing past me in their busy lives, and I felt something inside me finally break.

I had given up everything for them. My family, my career, my entire identity. And for what? To be a replacement for the woman my husband actually loved? To be an annoyance to my own child?

I had three months to live. And I was going to die unloved, unwanted, and completely alone.