A Runaway Bride (English)

“You need to stay completely still, Selene,” Dr. Voss said, her voice quiet as she squeezed a dollop of cold gel onto my stomach.

I shivered slightly at the contact, my fingers tightening around the edges of the examination table. 

“Sorry,” I murmured, trying to force my tense muscles to relax.

“It’s fine. Take a deep breath for me.” she said as she picked up the ultrasound transducer and pressed it against my skin, her eyes immediately scanning the dark monitor beside her.

I didn’t look at the screen yet. Instead, I stared up at the ceiling tiles, counting the tiny dots on the surface just to keep my mind from spiraling. 

Six years.

For six long years, I had been praying to the Moon Goddess for this exact moment. Six years of buying pregnancy tests in secret, only to stare at a single, mocking pink line in the bathroom midnight after midnight. Every negative result felt like a silent condemnation, a reminder of my failure as a wife.

And as the years passed, Dorian had only grown colder.

Our marriage had started out like a dream, or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself. I was twenty when my father handed me over to Dorian Vale to settle an early gambling debt. Back then, Dorian was charming. He looked at me with something resembling affection.

But then his father, the Alpha King, handed more responsibility over to him. The Crimson Vale pack became his priority, and I became an afterthought. A piece of furniture he expected to keep his house clean, host his pack dinners, and look pretty on his arm whenever the elders visited.

Lately, it has been getting worse. We barely saw each other. When he did come home, it was late. He would crawl into bed smelling of alcohol and a sweet, heavy perfume that definitely wasn't mine. If he touched me, it was hurried. He would reach his climax and immediately roll over, turning his back to me before his breathing even slowed down.

I always made excuses for him in my head. He’s stressed. The pack is demanding. He’s carrying too much weight.

But today, all of those excuses were supposed to end.

“There,” Dr. Voss suddenly spoke, a soft smile breaking across her face as she tapped the glass monitor. “Look right here, Selene.”

I slowly turned my head, my eyes watering before I could even focus on the image.

On the screen was a tiny, grainy gray blob and right in the center of it, a microscopic pixel was blinking rapidly.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

The sound from the machine’s speakers was soft, but to me, it sounded like thunder.

“Is that…?” My voice broke, a hot tear slipping down my temple and soaking into my hair.

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat,” Dr. Voss whispered, her eyes softening as she watched me. “You’re exactly eight weeks along. The development is perfect. It’s a very strong, healthy heartbeat.”

I placed a trembling hand over my stomach. The warmth of my own skin felt different now. I wasn't alone anymore. There was a real life inside me. A part of me, and a part of Dorian.

The elders had been pressuring him for an heir for the last two years. I knew how much he wanted to prove himself to his father, the King. This baby was exactly what we needed. It was the bridge that would finally bring my husband back to me. I was certain of it.

“Where is the Alpha-heir anyway?” Dr. Voss asked, grabbing a piece of tissue to wipe the remaining gel off my stomach. “I expected him to be pacing the floors outside my office today.”

A familiar lump formed in my throat. “He had an emergency boundary meeting with the southern sector Alphas. He tried to get out of it, but he couldn't.”

It was another lie.

Dorian didn't even know about the appointment. I had tried to tell him at breakfast that morning, but he had snapped at me for not having his suit pressed properly, grabbed his briefcase, and walked out the door without looking back. I decided it was better to wait until I had the ultrasound picture in my hand.

“Well, make sure you show him the printout the second he gets back,” Dr. Voss said, printing out a strip of black-and-white images from the machine. She handed them to me with a reassuring pat on my shoulder. 

“Get dressed, Selene. I’ll write up your prenatal vitamin prescriptions at the front desk.”

“Thank you,” I croaked.

Once the door clicked shut behind her, I sat up on the table. My legs were dangling off the edge, shaking slightly. I looked down at the tiny strip of paper in my hands, a genuine smile breaking across my face for the first time in months.

I reached for my phone, wanting to take a clear picture of it and send it straight to Dorian right now. Maybe it would make him smile and he’d come home early for dinner.

I unlocked the screen, my thumb hovering over his contact name.

BZZZ.

The phone vibrated violently in my hand, making me jump. 

A notification popped up at the top of the screen. It was a text message from an unknown number. There was no greeting, or name. Just a large video file attachment.

My brows knitted together. I hesitated for a second, thinking it was probably a wrong number or spam. But my thumb tapped the file anyway.

The video loaded instantly.

A low, ragged groan came through the speakers making my stomach instantly drop into a bottomless pit.

I knew that sound. I had heard it in the dark for six years. It was Dorian.

The video was shot from a high angle, looking directly down onto a massive bed with black sheets. My heart stopped. 

Those were the sheets I had just washed and tucked into the corners of our master bed yesterday morning.

Dorian’s broad back was to the camera. His dark hair was damp, plastered to his forehead as his shoulders flexed with heavy, brutal movements. He was pinning a woman down beneath him. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, her pale fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

It was Lara Quinn. His childhood friend. The woman he always told me was like a sister to him whenever I questioned why she called his phone at two in the morning.

“Dorian…oh god, Dorian,” Lara gasped in the video, her head tilting back against the pillows. Her bright blue eyes looked directly up at the camera lens, a twisted, victorious smirk on her lips. “What if your pathetic wife comes back from the clinic?”

Dorian didn't slow down. He drove into her harder, a dark, breathless chuckle escaping him.

“Let her,” he growled, his voice thick with lust, biting down on the column of Lara’s neck. “She’s nothing to me, Lara. Just a useless obligation my father forced me to sign papers for. You’re my real mate. You know that.”

The phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering loudly against the floor. The video was still playing, the muffled sounds of Dorian's passion echoing in the small clinic room.

The room seemed to spin, the steady, beautiful sound of the baby's heartbeat that had just filled the air was completely drowned out by the roaring in my ears.

“Just an obligation.”

“She’s nothing.”

Six years of my life. Six years of enduring his coldness, keeping his house, and praying for his love while he spent his nights whispering my worthlessness into another woman's skin.

BZZZ.

The phone vibrated on the floor, a text message popping up directly under the paused video. Even from the height of the table, the bold black text stood out clearly against the white screen:

"Stop pretending you don’t know, Selene. He’s been mine since before you even arrived. Do the pack a favor and get out already.”