Chapter 5
How long had it been since Simon last looked at me with genuine care? Three years? Five? Maybe longer. Once, we had been inseparable, our mate bond so deep that words felt superfluous. A single glance between us could speak volumes, silencing the noise of the world.
Perhaps my unwavering reliance on him had nurtured his arrogance–the quiet confidence that I would always stay, that I couldn’t leave. It gave him license to wound me, to flaunt his affection for another woman while I faded into the background. He had forgotten that I, too, had a heart–one that could break beneath the weight of sadness and betrayal.
I stared at the string of missed calls on my
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phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. With a deep breath, I pressed down, blocking his number. As I considered deleting him
from my social media, a detail caught my eye -his profile picture.
The cartoon I had lovingly sketched for him eight years ago was gone, replaced by a smug selfie of a man I hardly recognized. It was a different him–a different us. A bitter thought surfaced: When a man changes his rarely touched profile picture, it’s often because there’s someone new in his life.
My chest tightened as I hit delete, erasing a decade of messages and memories in an instant. The silence that followed felt heavier than I had anticipated, but also strangely freeing.
After responding to my aunt’s concerned text–letting her know I was safe–I turned
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off my phone and boarded the plane. The hum of the engines cradled me as the journey began. The three–hour flight felt like a suspended moment, not long enough to bury ten years of heartache, but just enough to start confronting it.
When the plane landed, I swiped away the remnants of tears and checked my reflection in the tiny mirror of my compact. My eyes were red, but I could pass it off as exhaustion. Composed once more, I stepped into the warm, familiar air of home.
Across the arrival gate, my parents stood waiting, their faces lighting up the moment they saw me. My father held a small bouquet, and my mother’s arms were brimming with gifts. As I approached, she reached out and gently placed a delicate crown on my head.
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“Our daughter has grown into such a beauty,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “Far more radiant than in the photos. Oh, how we’ve missed you! Please, don’t leave us again…” She pulled me into a suffocating yet comforting embrace, her tears soaking into my hair.
My father stood nearby, his eyes soft with quiet devotion. Years of loving me from afar were etched into the lines on his face. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said warmly, his voice steady and reassuring. “This time, I’ve found the perfect match for you.”
I raised an eyebrow, only half–joking. “Dad, I just got here. Can I at least catch my breath before you marry me off?”
He chuckled, patting my shoulder. “It’s just a kilometer away from home. If you ever feel unhappy, come back. Your mom and I will
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always be here for you.”
Leaning against my mother’s shoulder, I forced a smile. Over the years, they had asked me countless times to return. I had always dodged them, choosing instead to spend holidays with Simon’s pack, naively believing I was building a future with him.
I thought being at his side meant forever. Accepting his proposal had felt natural back then–a continuation of the story we were writing together. But now, standing before my parents, guilt gnawed at me. Their weary faces, marked by time and worry, reminded me of how much I had missed.
“I’ve grown up now,” I said softly, meeting my father’s eyes. “I’ll handle whatever comes my way. And when I do get married, it’ll be a joyous occasion. I trust your judgment.”
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Hearing my words, their shoulders relaxed, and relief softened their expressions. My mother took my hand in hers, her grip firm yet tender. “That’s good. We were so worried about you and that… boy. But let’s not dwell on the past.”
She hesitated, then added, “Have you finished everything you needed to over there? If anything comes up, leave it to your aunt. You should focus on your wedding now.”
The mention of Simon sent a sharp pang through my chest, but I swallowed the hurt and replied evenly, “Everything’s done. Aunt Camelia sends her regards. She said she’d join us for the wedding once she wraps up work.”
As we made our way to the car, my phone buzzed unexpectedly. The unfamiliar number
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sent a ripple of unease through me. Against my better judgment, I answered.
“Elena, how *dare* you block me?” Alpha Simon’s voice thundered through the line, sharp with fury. “Who do you think you are? Where are you? You can’t just vanish like that!”
The icy edge in his tone sliced through me. I opened my mouth to reply, but he steamrolled ahead. “Veronica is in the hospital because of you. Do you even care? You humiliated us, disappeared without cleaning up after *our* party–thrown for *you*-and now you refuse to take responsibility!”
Before I could gather myself to respond, another voice bled through the line–sickly sweet. Beta Veronica. “Please, don’t blame her. I know Elena didn’t mean to hurt me-
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it’s just a misunderstanding. I thought she’d appreciate the decorations…”
The line went dead, leaving a hollow ring in its wake. My stomach churned, the sickening ache spreading like a poison.
Noticing the shift in my demeanor, my mom frowned. “Honey, are you alright? Do you need some medicine?”
I bit my lip to stop the words threatening to spill out. “No, it’s fine… just spam,” I lied. “Let’s go home.”
Eager to change the subject, I forced a smile. “What about the wedding dress? Should we stop by the boutique to make sure it fits properly? They only had my measurements, and I don’t want any surprises tomorrow.”
My mom’s worry melted into excitement.
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“Good idea. You’re always so thorough. But don’t worry–it was handmade by a renowned designer. Still, I’d love to see how beautiful you look in it.”
She turned to my dad. “Darling, take us to the bridal shop.”
Traffic crawled, the drive dragging on for over an hour. Silence settled in the car, broken only by my mother’s occasional hum of excitement. At the boutique, it took another hour of adjustments before the dress was ready.
Finally, I stepped into the gown, its soft fabric hugging me like a second skin. I turned toward the mirror, and the reflection staring back stole my breath.
The dress was magnificent, exactly as I had envisioned years ago–delicate lace spilling
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like liquid silver down to the floor, intricate beadwork shimmering in the light. It was the dress of a dream. The only problem was… the dream’s groom had changed.
My mother gasped audibly, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh, my sweet girl, you’re a vision!” she exclaimed before darting forward to snap pictures on her phone.
“Mom, wait-” I protested, but it was already too late. Her fingers worked furiously as she uploaded the photos.
“Look at her!” she announced to no one in particular, her voice bursting with pride. “Like a goddess! Let everyone be jealous of how stunning my daughter is!”
She beamed, her joy uncontainable, and I couldn’t bring myself to be angry. This was her moment too–a dam of love and pride
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long overdue for release.
By the time we left the boutique, her phone’s wallpaper was one of the photos, and her social media had turned into a shrine of motherly adoration. I sighed, exasperated but oddly touched. But For now, I let myself be cradled by her pride.
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