Chapter 2 - Astraia

The ride home was a blur. The rhythmic hum of the car’s engine did little to soothe the chaos in my mind. The car felt suffocating as I sat in the back, my parents chatting casually about the party. Their voices, light and unconcerned, seemed miles away, like they were coming from another world, a place where I wasn’t broken, where I wasn’t questioning everything I thought I knew. My father’s steady grip on the wheel, the sound of my mother humming softly in the front seat—it all felt so distant. The only sound in my ears was the agonizing thrum of my heart, the deafening emptiness that Grant’s rejection had left in its wake.

“How was the party, sweetie?” My mother’s voice cut through my fog of pain.

I opened my mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words. The truth was, I didn’t know how to explain what had happened. How could I tell them about the cruel words Grant had spoken? How could I admit that I’d been rejected in front of an entire pack? How could I explain that my heart was shattered beyond repair?

“It was fine,” I finally muttered, my voice thick with emotion. “Just… fine.”

My father glanced at me through the rearview mirror, his brow furrowing slightly, but he didn’t press me. “Alright. Well, I’m glad you had a good time.”

I didn’t even bother to respond. The rest of the drive passed in a tense silence. Every bump in the road felt like a jolt to my chest, reminding me of the aching emptiness that had settled there after Grant’s rejection. The longer we drove, the heavier the silence became, suffocating me.

As we pulled into the driveway and parked, I couldn’t bring myself to look at my parents. I didn’t want to see the concern in their eyes, didn’t want to deal with the well-meaning but ultimately empty questions. I just wanted to be alone.

I walked quickly into the house, my footsteps heavy and unsteady. My mother’s soft voice called after me, but I didn’t respond. I had to get away. I had to escape.

The moment I reached my room, I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in my pillow as the weight of Grant’s rejection crashed down on me. My wolf whimpered, her pain a mirror of my own, and I couldn’t stop the tears that flowed freely down my cheeks.

The bond—the connection that was supposed to be sacred, a gift from the Moon Goddess—had been severed. How could he throw it away so easily? How could he choose Tiffany over me? The questions swirled in my mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.

My chest felt tight, as though the very air was pressing down on me. The ache of rejection wasn’t just emotional; it was physical—an excruciating burn that settled in my chest and refused to let go. My wolf paced restlessly within me, whining at the loss of our mate, her sorrow almost unbearable. I could feel her agitation, her pain, but there was nothing I could do to ease it. Nothing I could do to ease mine.

For hours, I lay there, replaying the night over and over in my mind. The way Grant had looked at me, like I was nothing more than a stranger. The way he had dismissed me, as though our bond meant nothing. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. He had felt the pull, hadn’t he? He had known we were mates. So why? Why had he turned his back on me?

A memory surfaced—one of us as children, laughing as we raced through the forest together. Grant had always been there, a constant presence in my life. We had been friends, inseparable. I had imagined him as my mate long before the bond had been revealed, even when we were just kids playing in the woods. I had thought he would cherish me. I had thought he would protect me, the way mates were supposed to do.

But now, that image was shattered, replaced by the cold, unyielding reality of his rejection. The laughter, the warmth, the moments we had shared—they all felt like a distant dream. How could he turn his back on me so easily?

I pressed my hands to my chest, as though trying to hold the pieces of my broken heart together. The tears wouldn’t stop. They came in waves, crashing over me, leaving me gasping for air. I couldn’t breathe. My wolf howled in pain, her cries a reflection of my own grief.

But even as the despair threatened to consume me, a spark of defiance stirred within me. If Grant thought I wasn’t enough, I would prove him wrong. I didn’t need him or his approval to find my worth. I didn’t need his rejection to define me.

The Moon Goddess had given me strength. She had made me resilient. I would use that strength to rebuild, piece by shattered piece. I would rise from this.

I wiped my tears away, taking a deep breath, trying to center myself. I needed to move forward. But the pain, the sting of rejection—it wouldn’t go away. It lingered, always there, just beneath the surface.

The next few days passed in a haze of quiet misery. I stayed in my room, barely eating, barely sleeping. I could hear my parents’ concerned voices, but I couldn’t bring myself to face them. I couldn’t explain the depth of my hurt. How could I? I hadn’t even fully understood it myself.

Then, one evening, after a long day of sulking in my room, I overheard my parents talking in the living room. They were discussing the party and how things had gone with Grant, mentioning how he was “such a fine young man” and “perfect for the pack.” My mother spoke of him like he was the ideal mate, the one she had always hoped for me. My father, too, had always held Grant in high regard. But that was before tonight. Before the rejection.

“Is Astraia doing okay?” My mother’s voice was softer, more concerned now.

My father hesitated. “I’m not sure, she seem to be down since the party.”

I bit my lip, a pang of guilt stabbing through me. I knew my parents cared, but I didn’t want to face them. I didn’t want to explain why I was a mess, why I couldn’t stop crying, why I was so broken inside.

A knock on my door stirred me from my thoughts. My mother’s voice came softly through the wood. “Astraia, sweetheart… can I come in?”

I didn’t answer right away. How could I? What could I say to her? I wasn’t ready for this conversation. I wasn’t ready to open the floodgates and tell her about my shattered heart. She wouldn’t understand. She couldn’t understand.

“I’m fine,” I managed to say, though my voice was anything but. “I just need some time alone.”

She paused for a moment, then the door creaked open. I turned my face into my pillow, pretending to sleep, hoping she’d take the hint and leave.

But instead, I felt her sit on the edge of the bed, the soft press of her hand on my back. “I know you’re hurting, honey. But shutting us out isn’t going to help. We love you. You can talk to us. Whatever happened at that party—whatever it is that’s bothering you—you don’t have to go through it alone.”

I kept my eyes closed, the tears threatening to start up again. I couldn’t talk about it. Not yet.

I didn’t know how to answer her. The words were stuck in my throat, too painful to say. But I couldn’t let them think everything was fine. I had to speak. I had to say something.

“I’m not okay,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “I—I don’t know what to do.”

My mother and father exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. My father’s face softened, his usual stoic expression replaced by a rare tenderness.

“You don’t have to explain everything to us right now,” he said quietly. “But we’re here for you. We’ll help you through this.”

My mother reached out, taking my hand. “Whatever you need, sweetie. We’re here. We love you.”

“Grant… he…” I began, but the words caught in my throat.

The thought of Grant choosing Tiffany, of him rejecting me in favor of her, felt like a betrayal too deep to explain. I didn’t want to break down in front of my mother, but the dam inside me was on the verge of breaking.

My mother’s voice softened, the worry in her tone unmistakable. “Astraia, honey… I don’t want to pressure you, but I’ve seen the way you look at him. If something happened, if he hurt you, I need to know. We need to talk about it.”

I sat up slowly, wiping my tear-streaked face with the back of my hand. My chest felt tight, as if the very air in the room was suffocating me. I didn’t want to speak about it, but the silence was worse. I couldn’t carry this pain on my own.

“He rejected me,” I whispered, barely able to breathe the words. “He chose her. Tiffany. She’s the one he wants. He doesn’t want me.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken pain.

My mother didn’t say anything right away, but I felt her hand squeeze my shoulder, her touch gentle yet firm. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know how much you’ve hoped for this, how much you’ve loved him. But sometimes… sometimes things don’t turn out the way we expect.”

The words didn’t offer much comfort, but they didn’t have to. She was here. She was present, offering me the space to grieve without judgment.

I finally looked up at her, my face still blotchy from crying.

“How could he choose her? Tiffany doesn’t even care about him the way I do. She doesn’t understand him. She just… wants to be his Luna.” My voice cracked with frustration.

My mother sighed, her gaze soft but resolute. “You’re stronger than you think, Astraia. The bond you share with him—it’s sacred, yes. But you can’t base your worth on someone else’s rejection. You are your own person. You have your own strength. Don’t forget that.”

I didn’t know if I believed her, but I appreciated the sentiment. It was the first time I had heard anyone speak of me in a way that acknowledged my value outside of the rejection. Maybe it was time I started to believe in myself again, even if it felt impossible. But even their words couldn’t fill the void Grant had left. I nodded, offering a small, grateful smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. They couldn’t fix this. No one could.

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Author's Note

What did you think about the themes of rejection and self-worth in this chapter? 🌙💡 Did you connect with Astraia’s emotions, or perhaps see pieces of yourself in her struggle? 🐺💪 I’d love to hear your thoughts, interpretations, and feelings about this piece—every bit of feedback helps me as a writer. 📝❤️

Chasing Moonlight,

Odessa 🌙✨