Diagnosed With Cancer, I Got My True Mate

The next morning, I drag myself to the diner for my shift, same as always. This place is just a stone's throw from Natalie's university. Back when I picked this job, it was just so I could catch a few extra glimpses of her. She's got money now, and she's told me more than once to quit, to take it easy. I always said no. She's always buried in school stuff, and if I didn't have this job, I'd barely see her at all.

Today was supposed to be my last day-meant to turn in my notice. But the manager claps me on the shoulder, all earnest. "Sam, stick around a few more days, will ya? At least till we find someone new."

He's been good to me over the years, so I can't say no. I nod, sealing my fate for a little longer.

Not long after, a group of college pups rolls in for some club lunch. I hand out menus, and my eyes catch a photo on their table-Natalie and Brandon, side by side. She's in a white shirt, cool and composed as ever, but there's a slight curve to her lips, a rare softness I hardly ever see. Brandon's got his arm around her shoulder, his grin bright as the damn sun.

"They look good together, huh?" one of the she-pups says, catching my stare. Her voice is all bubbly. "They're, like, the campus power couple! Ice-queen professor and the hot younger wolf-everyone's obsessed!"

I pour lemonade into a glass, keeping my voice steady. "They. seem close?"

"Oh, totally!" The table erupts, the she-pups tripping over each other to spill the tea. "Natalie's super standoffish with most wolves, but she's so patient with Brandon!"

"Like, this one time, Brandon passed out in the lab, and Natalie draped her coat over him!"

"And that pen he gave her? She carries it everywhere!"

My fingers start to shake, nearly dropping the glass pitcher. All these little things-Natalie's never done them for me. Not once.

"They're perfect for each other," one she-pup sighs, then her tone shifts. "Only thing is, Natalie's got some baggage. Word is she's got this savior wolf she feels obligated to."

"You mean that guy?" another scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Heard he didn't even go to college. No real job, just scraping by with odd gigs. Total mismatch for Natalie."

"Yeah, total leech, clinging to her like that. No shame!"

"We even asked Natalie about it. Told her to just pay him off and move on. Don't let him drag down her happiness."

My heart feels like it's caught in a vice, the pain so sharp I can barely breathe.

"Your hand's shaking," one of the she-pups says, eyeing me. "You good?"

I force a grin. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just. think you're right."

After my shift, I bolt from the diner, but I freeze at the university gates. There they are-Natalie and Brandon, walking side by side. He's got a red scarf looped around his neck, and as they talk, he pulls it off and wraps it around her, gentle and deliberate. Natalie, who's got a thing about germs, doesn't even flinch.

"Last night's meteor shower was awesome," Brandon says, all smiles.

Natalie nods. "Yeah, we should do it again."

Students passing by steal glances, some whispering, "I'm so shipping them!"

They're chatting about experiments, research, academic conferences-stuff that goes right over my head. Standing in the shadows, it hits me hard: there's a chasm between me and Natalie now, too wide to cross.

Back at the condo, Natalie's in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water. She opens the fridge, spots the leftover cake, and pauses. "Was yesterday your birthday?"

I nod, silent.

"I've been swamped. Slipped my mind," she says, rubbing her forehead. "I'll get you a gift in a couple days to make up for it."

"Don't worry about it," I say quietly. "You've got enough on your plate."

She looks at me for a moment, then lets it go. "What'd you wish for?"

I open my mouth, but her phone cuts me off. Brandon again.

"Natalie, I tweaked something playing ball," his voice whines through the speaker, all pouty.

She's on her feet in a flash. "Send me your location. I'm on my way."

She grabs her stuff and heads out, barely glancing back.

I sit at the table, alone, polishing off the rest of the cake. The frosting's gone cold, sweet but bitter as hell.