Chapter 3 - Rejection

Soren’s POV The room falls silent. My eyes drift to Celia, watching as tears roll down her cheeks. Her eyes turn a light shade of pink, clearly irritated from her tears, the light from the lamp reflected in her glossy eyes. I can’t bring myself to do or say anything. Celia brings her hands to her face, the tips of her fingers wiping away the tears that fall from her eyes. My body remains frozen. She averts her gaze from mine and turns to the door, running out of the room. I can hear her footsteps fade into nothingness the further she runs from me. ...She, love me? I’m shocked. How could she leave like that? Why didn’t I stop her? Something about her admission of love feels…off. Something about it felt so real. I can’t take it seriously, though, seeing how my title of Alpha King comes with the baggage of many women claiming to love me, that they are my mate. What makes Celia’s any different? There’s no reason for me to care about Celia’s admission. Our contracted relationship has already come to an end whether she likes it or not. “Follow her. Make sure she gets the check and maintains her silence about the affair,” I break the silence and stare at my Beta. My Beta turns to me and nods, bowing the upper half of his body. He turns to exit the bedroom but there’s hesitation in his step. He looks back at me, hand on the doorway. “...Have you given up on searching for your fated mate, sir?” He asks me. I fall in silence, and say,“...Based on my memories from childhood, being around Bianca might not completely cure my headaches, but it will help a lot.” “Besides, Bianca is of high status. She is a Lycan lady. Being with her will help benefit the pack’s benefit.” I have no reason to refuse Bianca. In truth, I no longer feel the same rush of excitement I once did in my youth—but she is still special to me. There is no doubt—Bianca is the right and most practical choice. Instead of chasing after a Lycan princess who disappeared long ago, or searching endlessly for a fated mate I have yet to even glimpse, she is the one within reach. As for Celia…? Celia provided limited relief during our contracted time together. She served her purpose in that way, even if the relief was temporary—and only half as potent as Bianca’s scent when we were younger. “…I understand, Alpha,” Beta says, brows furrowed. “I just worry about you… You’ve done so much for the pack, yet they still believe that…! If only you could bond with your fated mate, your reputation would be—” “—Enough.” I cut him off. “…I said, enough.” …I gave up hope of finding my true mate long ago. Of course, all werewolves crave their fated mate, it’s in our nature. I, too, have imagined countless times what mine would be like. But now, I’ve reached the age where I must marry — for duty, for the advancement of my pack. It is the correct decision I have made as Alpha King. I sink into my chair, rubbing my temples, when something catches my eye — the plate of cookies on the table. Celia brought them. My favorite flavor. Beta has nothing more to say. He only lowers his head and murmurs, “As you wish, Alpha,” before turning to go. But I stop him. “Is there anything else, Alpha?” Beta asks. “…Throw these away.” I say, my voice firm. “I don’t want to look at them anymore.” I am simply making the right choice — The choice an Alpha King must make. Celia‘s POV I slam the door behind me, the wood rattling in the frame. My breaths come fast and ragged as I storm toward my bedroom. Yanking my phone from my purse, I open my contacts. Soren’s name mocks me from the screen. “…Goodbye, King.” A frustrated whisper escapes my lips as I delete his contact. Delete his number. I take a deep breath, steadying my heartbeat, then turn to my closet. The doors swing open, revealing an array of white dresses. I rip them from their hangers, shoving them into trash bags. Dead flowers. Perfume bottles. Scribbled notes. All of it—thrown away. My gaze sweeps the room for anything I missed. ...Then I see it. An umbrella. Tucked away in the corner, hidden behind my rain jacket and boots. I pick it up, my fingers tightening around the handle. It was the first thing he ever gave me, in the rain. It’s worthless. Meaningless. But to me… it was everything. “Celia?” I turn. It's my Grandma, standing by my bedroom outside. She shuffles toward me, her wrinkled hands cupping my cheeks. "My dear Celia…" Tears blur my vision as I melt into her embrace, letting go of everything I’ve held inside. Grandma’s illness is worsening. As she grows older, her link to her wolf fades, leaving her unconscious most of the time. But today—today is a half-moon. One of the rare days she’s lucid. She leads me to the bathroom, where an electric razor awaits. Her new treatment requires chemotherapy. She has to shave her head. I pick up the razor, my hands trembling. She once had the most beautiful hair. The softest fur. And now… "If my illness never improves, then let go." Her voice is warm, gentle. "That would simply mean the Goddess has come to take me home. My only worry is you, my little Celia." I swallow my tears. "But I don’t want you to die. I will pray to goddess, for your more days." “…This time, you’ll be treated at the hospital where I’m interning. I’ll be there. The moment I finish my shifts, I’ll be right by your side." When we’re done, we sit on the couch, her favorite show playing softly in the background. I massage her scalp, using techniques I learned from Soren to ease her discomfort. Soren… A dull ache spreads through my chest. Grandma notices my silence. She must think it’s about our finances again. "Is the money from selling jewelry enough? We’re still getting by, right, dear?" When our family fell into debt, Grandma sold all her wedding jewelry. It helped for a while, covering medical bills and my tuition, but it quickly ran out. …It was Soren. Our contract. That kept us afloat. "Yes, Grandma," I murmur. A relieved smile spreads across her face. "That’s good, that’s good. Our little Celia is at the age to start dating. Don’t worry too much—go out and fall in love!" "But Grandma," I whisper, wrapping my arms around her, "I’m just a wolf-less girl. Who would ever love me?" — Just wolfless. Just a substitute lover. The lowest existence. Unworthy of love. The television continues playing, voices discussing Lycan-Werewolf relations. Grandma watches in silence as the news anchor announces: “…The Lycan pack is still searching for their lost royal member. 22 Years ago, a Lycan prince and a court healer disappeared along with their young little baby princess. Could this unresolved matter pose new risks to diplomacy? Tune in tonight for more—" "Beep." Grandma turns off the TV. For a long time, she says nothing. Then, with a deep sigh, she lifts a hand and gently pats mine. "Don’t worry, Celia...One day, you’ll awaken your wolf. And when that day comes, you will be the most remarkable wolf there is..."