Rejected at My Own Birthday Celebration

I quickly signed the mate bond rejection papers, the weight on my chest finally lifting. Erik snatched the document without so much as a glance in my direction, his Alpha aura sharp and unyielding. Gracie clung to his arm, her presence a stark reminder of where his loyalty now lay. “See you in a month,” he said, his voice cold and detached, and I knew with absolute clarity that this would be the last time I’d see him in this life.

The door slammed shut behind them, the sound echoing in the sudden silence of the private room. The waiter returned after what felt like an eternity, his voice hesitant. “Would you like the extra dish to be served?”

No one answered. My mother, the Luna of our pack, finally broke down into sobs, her composure shattered. My father, Alpha Ambrose Bell, wrapped an arm around her, his presence steady and reassuring as he murmured soothing words. Layla Hawkins, the Luna of Erik’s pack, sat frozen in her seat, her expression one of stunned disbelief, as if she couldn’t quite process what had just unfolded. And me? I felt invisible, caught in the middle of a storm that had been brewing for years.

I stood slowly, my legs trembling but my resolve firm. “No need to serve it. Just bring the check, please.” I paid mechanically, my fingers numb from the cold that seemed to seep into my bones. Was I calm? No, I was just too numb to feel anything else.

I grabbed my coat from the private room, the fabric heavy in my hands, and walked out. The parking garage was quiet, the air thick with the scent of damp concrete. I slid into my car, the leather seat cool against my skin. My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I held them back. What was there to cry about? I had known this was coming for a long time.

It had started the day he proposed to me, out of the blue, at my college graduation. He’d stood there with a bouquet of flowers, his Alpha aura commanding the room, and declared, “Elena White, daughter of Alpha Ambrose Bell, I, Erik Hawkins, Lycan Prince, claim you as my mate.” The words had left me stunned, but before I could process them, he’d whisked me off to finalize the mate bond without any discussion. Everyone had advised him to slow down—a bonding ceremony needed planning, guests needed to be invited, and I deserved more than a rushed affair—but he’d dismissed them all with a single, cutting remark: “If I wait any longer, I might regret this.”

Back then, I’d signed the papers mechanically, feeling dazed as I walked out. His next words had snapped me into clarity. He’d said, “Gracie left for Europe. Are you happy now?” The bitterness in his voice had cut through me, and I’d known then that he resented me. After the bond was sealed, he’d kept his distance. Every time I reached out to him, he’d recoil as if my touch burned him. “I bonded with you. What more do you want?” he’d say, his tone laced with disdain.

For years after that, whenever Layla hinted at wanting pups, I hadn’t known how to respond. Slowly, she’d begun to resent me too. More than once, she’d sighed in front of me, “Our Hawkins family line is going to end with this generation, it seems.”

Now, she and I could finally breathe a sigh of relief. The bond was broken, the ties severed. And for the first time in years, I felt free.