Chapter 3
When they saw me, their expressions were a mix of shock and disbelief. Alpha Anthony’s face showed a momentary surprise before he asked, bewildered, “Are you ill? Why are you at the hospital by yourself?”
Before I could reply, Luna Celia interjected. “Nicole, you shouldn’t ignore your health just because you’re young. No matter how hectic work gets, you need to take care of yourself. Don’t let Alpha Anthony worry.”
Though her words were laced with concern, an underlying distance was unmistakable.
I pressed my lips together, acknowledging her with a nod. “I’ve already had my check–up. Just need to pick up my medication and I’m free to go. You two
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should focus on your prenatal appointment.”
Anthony’s eyes reflected his worry as he started toward me, but Luna Celia gently pulled him back.
“Anthony, it’s almost our turn. Let’s go in,” she urged, feigning discomfort and rubbing her belly lightly. “Maybe I’ve been overthinking things, but my stomach’s been uneasy. I’m anxious about the pup.”
She put emphasis on the word “pup,” and the concern in his eyes vanished, replaced by guilt. “Nicole, you should head home. I’ll stay with Celia for the check–up and then come find you,” he said.
I remembered how, when his brother was alive, he always addressed Luna Celia as “sister–in–law” with the utmost respect. Now, he called her by name, a symbol of their
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changed relationship.
Watching the three of them as a cohesive family, it hit me just how much of an outsider I’d become. The man who once promised me eternal love no longer held space for me in his heart.
I thought back to when he constantly prioritized me, and a pang of bitterness surged in my chest as I choked out, “Alright, you two go ahead.”
I’d known Alpha Anthony since high school. Back then, we were desk mates–he, the quiet, brooding bookworm, and me, the overly energetic class clown who was always trying to sneak snacks under the desk.
My parents were perpetually glued to their work, convinced that I’d somehow explode
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e
if lif left unsupervised, so they madedusere I ststayed on campus. Not that & mimdeded—it gagave me more chances to annoy Anthomony intinto doing things he didn’t want to dodo.
I hkheted the cafeteria breakfasts with a papassion those sad little packets of oatmea andhaliblibbery eggs–and I made it my life’s’s missssion to avoid them. That meant pesterin Anthomony to bring me food from outside, and every stagingle time, he’d sigh, roll his eyes, an thenecaveve.inhThis routine lasted three years
After high school, we both ended up at the same univéveitsity. We were practically inseparable laybyenen. The whole “college experience” wasas lai bit overwhelming for me, so I naturally clung to him like a lifeline, and he–well, he never sesaeeded to mind.
“Seriously, Nicole, youoneeeled to stop using m as your personal sherpaßalented tease
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as I showed up to his dorm, arms full of random stuff I had “forgotten” to bring. He’d always take a moment to look at me with that resigned, yet affectionate, stare before helping me anyway.
My mom often admonished me, insisting it wasn’t fair to trouble others. I’d shrug off her advice and relay it to Anthony.
He’d set down his pen and remark casually, “Do you really think I’m a pushover? Nicole, if I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t bother.”
His feelings were never a secret; I’d known from the start. So I unabashedly basked in his kindness.
When we were 18 years old at our bar mitzvah, I had just hit my first shift–y’know, transforming into a full–blown werewolf for the first time. It was awkward, to say the
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least. Picture a human who suddenly had four legs and no idea how to walk, but you still have to act like you’re cool about it.
I remember the first time I caught his scent -rum and pine needles. Strong, earthy, unmistakable. It made my wolf sit up and
howl.
“Mate,” she practically screamed in my head.
I turned around and there he was–a massive, black wolf with silver–tipped fur. The world kind of stopped for a moment, my breath catching in my chest.
“Nicole. We are mates.”
He is Alpha Anthony, my fate mate.
When we finally became a couple, his affection was even more boundless. With
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him, I felt carefree, as if nothing could ever burden me.
Aware of all he did for me, my mother used to joke that the toughest challenge I’d face would be going to work.
Yet now, I realized she was wrong. The hardest thing wasn’t work. It was the truth that the man I cherished had married someone else–and I was the last to know.
Tears blurred my vision as I reminisced, streaming freely down my cheeks before I even noticed.
The taxi driver offered a tissue. “Young lady, you’ll overcome this. Keep moving forward; good fortune awaits you just ahead.”
I accepted the tissue and thanked him through my sobs.
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After paying the fare, I considered calling a friend to vent when a glance at my social media feed stopped me cold. Luna Celia’s latest post, made mere minutes ago, filled my screen.
