Two

A throbbing pain exploded behind my eyelids. The noise inside my head surged like a siren.

Ugh.

I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to knead the ache into submission. Light filtered through a familiar curtain, and something inside me lurched.

No. No way.

Fuck me. I was at my parents’ house.

Which meant… they knew.

They knew about the airport. The proposal. The humiliation.

Another wave of pain crashed over me.

Donovan, that lying bastard, had whispered his undying love over the phone just two days ago. The pigface had told me he couldn’t wait to see me, to hold me. 

I fumbled on the nightstand for my phone. I needed to call Ria. 

The door creaked open. 

Astrid, my seventeen-year-old sister, breezed in, her nose in the air and a bowl of soup in her hands. The smell of chicken and herbs followed her like perfume.

She looked like a real-life Disney princess; almond eyes, black curls, button nose, all soft charm. The exact opposite of me. I was the only green-eyed blonde in a family of raven-haired beauties.

"Hey, sis," she chirped, way too cheerful. "Feeling rough? I made soup.”

"I feel like a truck hit me, then backed up to make sure I was dead," I groaned, pushing myself up against the headboard.

Astrid set the bowl in my lap. Rich broth made with chicken and noodles. I mumbled thanks, the warmth already working its way through my fingers.

She turned to leave, but I stopped her. "Wait. How did I get here?"

She leaned against the doorframe, casually pulling out her phone. “Ria brought you.”

Then, as if dropping a bomb, she added, "Oh, and you're trending. Big time." She angled her screen toward me.

There I was. On one knee. Ring out. Donovan horrified. His fianceé in full sneer mode. The entire miserable moment, frozen in pixels.

“They’ve turned it into memes,” Astrid added with a smirk. “It’s so viral even penguins in Antarctica probably saw it. Mom’s phone hasn’t stopped ringing.”

I buried my face in the pillow. “Oh, God. Please stop the video.”

But she scrolled anyway, reading aloud: “‘So desperate.’ ‘What a joke.’ ‘That poor guy, she ambushed him.’ Oof—this one says, ‘stupid bitch.’”

Only a tiny handful even dared to suggest Donovan was the jerk.

My skin was supposed to be rhino-thick. But those words hurt me badly.

Donovan hadn’t just dumped me. He humiliated me. Lied to me while getting someone else pregnant.

After everything I’d put up with from guys, maybe I was destined to become a spinster with a dozen cats.

Speaking of cats, my Persian cat Snowy let out a demanding yowl from the foot of the bed. I stroked his fluffy white fur, grateful for something warm and nonjudgmental.

Eventually, I dragged myself downstairs. The tile was cold beneath my feet. Each step felt heavier than the last.

My dad sat in his armchair. He looked tired, the lines around his eyes deeper than usual. My mom sat stiff-backed on the sofa, clutched a teacup and a thundercloud frown firmly in place. 

Mom’s head snapped towards me the moment I entered. Her eyes shot daggers that could have pinned me to the wall.

Luther, my younger brother, and Astrid's twin was sprawled on the far end of the couch, thumbs flying across his phone. He didn’t even spare me a glance.

"Good to see you're finally awake, Vespa," Mom said, her voice all frost and fury. "Your particular brand of recklessness deserves its own university course.”

I stared at the rug. “Mom, Dad... I’m sorry. I really thought Donovan loved me.”

"You thought?” Mom exploded. Her voice leaped an octave, her face blazing red.

"You imbecile! You dated a werewolf just to disgrace us? And then pulled a public stunt for the whole world to see? What were you thinking?"

"Mom, please," I pleaded. "It was a mistake. A horrible mistake.”

Her eyes blazed. “A mistake? A public circus, a humiliation broadcast globally, and you call it a mistake?”

That was it. The last straw.

"You’re supposed to be on my side!" I shouted back. “You could at least ask what happened before passing judgment! I thought getting married young might actually make you happy. You’re always going on about grandchildren—”

Her expression twisted.

My voice trembled. “Maybe I don’t owe you any grandchildren after all."

They’d had me late in life, after twenty years of infertility. I’d thought maybe settling down early would be a gift to them and make my mother warm up to me. I thought they’d be proud.

Instead, all I saw now was disappointment.

“You don’t excuse yourself by throwing your uterus around,” Mom hissed. “Especially not to a werewolf. You’ve shamed us, and I’m not sugarcoating it. Not that I’m surprised — you’ve always had a knack for bringing chaos to our doorstep.”

—

Days bled into a miserable blur.

Home became suffocating. Mom made every meal a guilt trip. Dad avoided eye contact. Luther didn’t speak much.

By Sunday, Ria called and gave me the push I needed.

“Missing any more classes could tank your final year,” she warned.

So on Monday, I showered, forced my pixie cut into some kind of order, pulled on a black hoodie and the oldest jeans I owned, and drove my battered Volkswagen back to campus.

My hands trembled on the wheel. I parked near the journalism building and braced myself.

Scandal loves a popular target, and I was very popular.

VP of the Students’ Union. Radio host. Editor of the campus paper. Founder of the feminist club.

Surprisingly, the hallway felt... normal. A few side-eyes. A few whispers. Nothing I couldn’t ignore.

Then class ended, and the real venom started.

“Delusional.”

“What a joke.”

“So much for feminism—begging a man like that.”

Each word burned, slow and deep. I forced myself not to react.

“They can’t all be assholes,” Ria muttered beside me. I gave her a weak smile. She didn’t return it.

By noon, I was buried in the Student Union office, pretending to work. A growing to-do list stared back at me, but I couldn’t focus. Not even the radio show notes could pull me out of this haze.

Then the dean strolled in, beaming.

“Over a hundred werewolf students from the Northern Ridge Pack will be joining us this semester!” he announced.

I felt like someone had sucker-punched me.

After he left, Kaden, the student president, turned to me with a wicked gleam. “Guess who’s in charge of their registration?” he said. “You. Our resident werewolf enthusiast.”

Ria growled beside me. I just stared, numb.

Kill me now.

Ria joined me in quiet solidarity. Together, we set up the registration table and waited. Soon, over ten large buses arrived, and werewolf students began stepping off, tall and confident. Ria nudged me, wide-eyed, as they approached.

"Holy moly, Vespa," she whispered, her voice awestruck. "Look. Over there. It’s them."

"Them who?" I scoffed, not bothering to turn around. 

I wanted absolutely nothing to do with werewolves. I didn't even want to breathe the same air. They can dangle their absurdly perfect cocks and I still wouldn’t care.

She grabbed my arm and forced me to look. "The three hot guys from the airport. Your saviors.“