When I Died, My Mate Was With His Sweetheart

The next morning, Klaus stormed into his office, his mood as dark as the clouds hanging over Snowfall Pack. He wasn’t Alpha yet, but he carried the weight of it, even more so now with his father watching his every move. I followed him as I always did, drifting unseen and unheard. The hunters and warriors of the pack bustled around, preparing for patrols, but their chatter died down when Klaus passed by, his presence commanding respect even without the title.

I stayed close, my soul trailing behind, floating through walls and people. They passed through me without knowing I was there. Only Klaus could have felt it—if he still had our bond. But he didn’t.

Inside his office, Klaus dropped into his chair, his face etched with frustration. His right-hand man, Benedict, stood by the door, rattling off reports about pack logistics and training schedules, but Klaus was barely listening. His gaze flicked to his phone every few minutes, his thumb hovering over the screen as if expecting something.

“Is something wrong, Klaus?” Benedict asked, glancing at the uncharacteristic tension in his posture.

Klaus scowled but didn’t meet his eyes. “No. Keep going.”

Benedict hesitated, sensing the storm brewing, but pressed on with the report. He detailed the morning patrols, the rogue sightings near the border, and upcoming negotiations with neighboring packs. Yet Klaus’s mind seemed miles away, his fingers drumming impatiently on the desk.

"What was he waiting for?" I thought bitterly. "Was he waiting for me to give in like I always did after our fights? Was he expecting me to call, to make the first move again?"

But this time was different. I wasn't coming back.

At noon, Klaus abruptly slammed his hand on the desk. “Benedict, where’s lunch?”

Benedict blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Lunch, sir? We…we haven’t arranged for anything.”

Klaus’s eyes flashed, a growl rumbling in his chest. “Why the hell not?”

The man looked confused. “You never asked for anyone to take care of your lunch, Klaus. Mavis—well, she usually handled it herself. Omegas used to deliver it.”

I stood by Klaus’s desk, watching the moment unfold like a cruel joke. I was the one who made sure he had something to eat every day. I had learned how to cook because he was so picky because his stomach couldn’t handle the stress after the war. And now, he sat there, angry and hungry, without a clue that I had been the one behind every meal he enjoyed.

Klaus tensed, his fist clenching the phone. He hung up on Benedict, a low growl escaping his throat. “You’d better not reply to my messages,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

I looked at the framed photo on his desk, one from our second anniversary. He picked it up, his fingers tracing the edges, and for a fleeting moment, his anger softened. But then, with a frustrated huff, he set the photo back down and reached for the stuffed wolf I had given him. He turned it upside down, a habit he’d developed whenever he was mad at me.

“This doll looks like you, Mavis,” he’d say, smirking. “Always watching me. Always by my side.” And whenever I upset him, he would make it stand on its head as if punishing it.

I cried silently beside him, remembering how everything between us used to be before Claudette came back. Back when I thought I was Klaus’s world, his mate, his Luna-to-be. But all of that had shattered the moment Claudette re-entered our lives.

Claudette. His childhood sweetheart, the one who left him for another Alpha, only to come crawling back after that relationship fell apart. I had watched as he secretly picked her up from work, bought her the jewelry I had been waiting for, and celebrated her birthday while forgetting mine. It was all so obvious now, but back then, I tried to deny it, tried to fight for him.

We had argued so many times—about her, about the distance growing between us. I compromised again and again, hoping that Klaus would choose me, that he would remember the bond we had, the one our wolves once shared. But the last time we fought was the final straw. He kicked me out of the car to pick up Claudette.

I died that night, and Klaus didn’t even know.

I watched as he walked into our house that evening. The place was eerily quiet, no longer filled with the smell of the meals I used to prepare or the warmth of our life together. He dropped his suit jacket by the door and called out for me, his voice echoing through the empty halls.

“Mavis?” He frowned when there was no answer. He glanced at his phone, then sent me a message: [Mavis, stop messing around. Come back home.]

No reply.

He dialed my number. “The number you’ve dialed is currently unavailable…” The automated voice grated on his nerves.

Klaus hung up and tried again. Still nothing.

I watched him stand in the dimly lit hallway, his shoulders rigid, his breathing shallow. For the first time in a long while, Klaus looked lost. And for the first time, I felt the tiniest bit of satisfaction.

"You’re too late, Klaus," I thought, my tears now dry. "I’m gone. You threw me away for her, and now you’ll live with that choice."