Bonds Broken, Love Forgotten

Once, Damien and I were the perfect mates in everyone's eyes.

We met in college when we were both dirt poor, scraping by on part-time jobs and late-night instant noodles.

My parents divorced when I was seven.

My mother tried to shield me from the truth, but I knew.

That day is seared into my memory.

She had come home early from a business trip, her heels clicking rhythmically on the tiles as she stepped through the door.

She paused at the bedroom door-her breath catching as the unmistakable sounds of laughter drifted down the hallway.

And then... she saw it.

My father, strong and imposing, wrapped in the arms of his secretary-her perfume sickly sweet, mingling with the scent of betrayal that filled the room.

Their bodies tangled beneath the sheets-his sheets-the ones my mother had slept in for over a decade,. His lips on her neck, her hands on him.

My mother stood there in the doorway, her heart breaking in real-time. She didn't scream. She didn't yell. She simply... fell.

She quietly wove the threads of the mate bond they shared-threads that had once been strong enough to tie them together for life-into the fabric of her past.

In those first few hours, while he was still fumbling through his apologies, my mother quietly arranged the dissolution of everything he thought he had a claim to. The house, the money, the family name-all became hers.

"You are no longer my mate. "

"Leave," she commanded, her voice sharp enough to cut through the thick air of the room. "And never return."

I watched, hidden in the shadows, as my father left. The door clicked shut.

Then, silence.

I saw my mother crumble.

Her wolf, once fierce, collapsed, its spirit torn from her. Her knees hit the floor, her body folding like a broken animal.

She gasped, her shoulders shaking, arms clinging to herself as if to hold her soul together.

In that moment, I understood-breaking mate bonds was as painful as tearing a wolf apart.

That year, I was seven.

She always thought I didn't know.

But the truth was as clear to me as the scars on my heart.

Years passed, and my mother, ever strong, raised me alone.

By the time I was in my second year of college, the burden had taken its toll.

My mother, once vibrant and full of life, began to fade. Her wolf grew weaker with every passing day.

She was always tired, always lost in the weight of her own thoughts.

And then, one cold winter evening, she stepped into the street, unaware of the oncoming car. It hit her hard, sending her flying.

She never woke up.

At twenty years old, I was left alone. My mother was gone.

It was also the year I met Damien.

We crossed paths at a student council event.

He was the host, tall and commanding, with a presence that made the room go still.

I couldn't help but glance at him more than once. And those brief moments of eye contact were enough for him to notice me.

From that day on, he pursued me relentlessly.

Damien was persistent, his charm undeniable. He'd appear at my side in class, offering help with assignments, his dark eyes always watching me, his every move calculated to draw me in.

Because of my past, I'd built walls around my heart.

when he asked me to be his mate, I rejected him without a second thought.

"I can't be your mate. I won't be."

I thought he would eventually take the hint and give up, after all, that's what all my previous suitors did.

But he didn't.

From sophomore year to senior year, and even after I started my internship, he never stopped pursuing me.

I couldn't help but feel a little touched by his persistence.

But the more kind he was to me, the less confidence I had.

Because, back then, my father had treated my mother just as well.