Chapter 3
It hit me suddenly: with my decision to leave now within reach, none of this mattered anymore.
After I turned him down that night, Alpha Waldo froze. His body went rigid, like a wolf caught mid-howl. His pride, ever the dominant force, wouldn’t let him ask why I’d rejected him. Instead, he muttered a quiet, “Okay,” and rolled over.
That night, the distance between us felt as vast as the Milky Way.
The next morning, I woke to find the bed empty. Typical. Maybe he was off sulking, worried I’d spiral into jealousy over Alanna. Not a chance.
On the dining table, however, was a surprise: a plate of slightly burnt toast, a fried egg, and a glass of milk.
Alpha Waldo wasn’t exactly the culinary type.
A rare gesture from someone who had never once made breakfast for me.
Next to the plate was a sticky note that read: “For my Luna—enjoy.”
My phone buzzed with a message:
“Alpha Waldo”: Honey, I’ve put the wedding dress in the study. Try it on and send me a photo—I know you’ll look the most beautiful.
The most beautiful, huh? Funny, I thought, considering Alanna probably tried it more than once already.
I sighed, finishing the toast (a little charred but edible) before heading to a stationery store. I bought a countdown calendar. Back home, I tore off the first page: six days left.
I started packing.
The den was first. I cleared out framed photos, books we’d shared, and papers—every last trinket of our so-called love story. As I placed the final item in a box, a diary slipped out.
I hesitated, flipping through pages filled with happy memories—dates, anniversaries, silly things we’d done. The paper had yellowed, but the moments felt fresh, almost biting.
A lump rose in my throat, but I pushed it down. I left the diary behind.
The wedding dress was next. It hung in the study, taunting me like an enemy wolf daring me to flinch. Unable to resist, I grabbed a pair of scissors and shredded the dress into ribbons. Each slice was quick, precise, and emotionless.
It felt oddly satisfying.