I don’t want to be the horrible daughter who stands in the way of her mom’s happiness. Seriously, I don’t.
But when she dropped that bomb on me, I couldn’t keep my cool. “What the fuck do you mean you’re getting married, Mom?” I blurted out before I could even think to filter my words. My voice came out way louder than I intended, and her eyes snapped up, meeting mine with a look that clearly said she didn’t appreciate the tone. But, come on—she had just blindsided me with this whole getting-married news, and she expected me to what? Clap my hands and throw her a party? “No curse words, Camila,” she chided, almost calmly, as if we were talking about the weather and not her dropping an emotional grenade on me. She set down a plate on the dining table, patting it like this was all normal. “He’s a good guy, and I’m sure you’ll like him.” “‘Good guy’? That’s all you’re giving me here?” I scoffed, throwing my hands up in frustration. “Who is he, Mom? Where did he come from? Are you sure about this?” My voice was laced with desperation because this was starting to feel like a bizarre dream—no, scratch that, a nightmare. She sighed, clearly unimpressed by my dramatics, as she continued setting the table. “Yes, Camila, I’m sure. And his name is Greg. We’ve been dating for over a year.” A year?! My jaw nearly hit the floor. “And you never thought to mention him once?” I demanded, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “I thought we told each other everything!” “Camila, you were busy with school and your friends. And I wanted to be sure it was serious before I introduced him to you,” she explained, like that somehow made it all better. I just stared at her, dumbfounded. My mom had been a single mother for as long as I could remember. I never met my dad, and honestly, it never really bothered me. Mom made sure I didn’t lack anything; she was my everything. I got used to it being just us, and somewhere along the line, I had settled into the idea that this was our forever dynamic—just the two of us against the world. And now, out of nowhere, she wanted to bring in some guy named Greg? Mom must’ve seen the look on my face because she reached out, patting my hand. “Sweetheart, you’ll love him. And he has a son, so you’ll finally have a sibling,” she said, her face lighting up like this was the best news in the world. “Isn’t that great?” My brain short-circuited for a moment. A sibling? She was throwing that into the mix too? “You’re telling me I’m supposed to just...accept this guy as my new dad and his kid as my sibling? Mom, this isn’t one of your romance novels!” She chuckled, which honestly just made me feel worse. “Camila, you’re overreacting. I’m not asking you to think of him as your dad. I know it’s a big change, but he makes me happy. Can’t you at least give him a chance?” I wanted to argue, to tell her that this was way too much, way too fast, and that I wasn’t ready for this kind of change. But then I looked at her, really looked at her. My mom looked...happy. Happier than I had seen her in a long time. She was practically glowing as she talked about this Greg guy, and I could see something in her eyes that softened the edges of my frustration. She deserved to be happy. But did that mean I had to be okay with this? “I don’t know, Mom,” I muttered, looking down at the table. “It just...it feels weird. Like, we’re supposed to be a team, you and me. What if he changes everything? What if it’s not the same?” She gave me a small, understanding smile and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “It will always be you and me, Camila. No one can change that. But this doesn’t mean we can’t let other people in too.” I took a deep breath, my chest tight with conflicting emotions. I wanted to be happy for her, I really did. But this was a lot to process. “Does his son know about all this?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral. Mom nodded. “Yes, he knows. He’s around your age, actually. His name is Ethan.” I raised an eyebrow. “Great. So now I’m supposed to get along with some random guy I’ve never met before? You really are asking for a lot here, you know that?” Mom laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’ll be fine, Camila. Just give it a try. For me?” She looked so hopeful, so... vulnerable, and it twisted something in my chest. I wanted to scream, to tell her this wasn’t fair, but I could see that this wasn’t just about me. For once, I had to put her first. “Fine,” I mumbled reluctantly, “I’ll try. But I’m not promising anything.” She hugged me, squeezing a bit tighter than usual, like she was reassuring both of us. “Thank you, sweetheart. That means a lot.” Later that night, as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change in a way I wasn’t ready for. Greg and his son, Ethan. Just the thought of them moving into our world felt intrusive, like they were strangers barging into our little bubble. And what if they took up too much space? What if I got lost in all this? I sighed, rolling over and hugging my pillow. This was happening whether I liked it or not. I didn’t want to be the selfish daughter who couldn’t let her mom be happy. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder if things were ever going to feel normal again. Because this wasn’t just about Greg. It was about the life my mom and I had built together—just us, against everything. And now, with these strangers coming in, it was like that world was slipping through my fingers, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. All I could do was hope that maybe, just maybe, this new world wouldn’t be as scary as it felt. But deep down, I knew that wasn’t a promise anyone could make.I didn’t know what to think. Or feel. I think I was in a daze. One of those thick, woolly kinds that wrap around your brain and numb everything else. Everything was muffled, the voices, the footsteps, the whispers, even my own thoughts. It all felt distant, like I was watching the world through a fogged-up window. One minute, I was standing in the middle of a crowd being stared at like I’d grown a second head. The next, I was inside a building I didn’t even remember walking into. It was only when Ethan placed a glass in my hand that I blinked, my brain slowly crawling back to the present. “Here… have this,” he said gently. “Oh. Thanks.” My voice sounded weird, like it came from someone else entirely. I took the glass automatically and stared at the clear liquid for a second longer than necessary before sipping. The water was cold. Refreshingly so. It shocked my senses just enough to make the rest of the room snap into focus. That was the moment I really looked around. We wer
I stepped back slightly, the air suddenly feeling tight, suffocating. I could still feel the redhead girl’s eyes burning into me from the side, her expression unreadable now that she’d retreated behind the crowd. But it was the tension between Ethan and his father that made my skin crawl. No warmth. No reunion. No "you're finally home" welcome. Just a cold war in the middle of a crowd that somehow still felt too quiet. Ethan stayed quiet. The crowd stayed bowed. And I? I stood there like a sore thumb, a human in a place I had no business being, beside a man who radiated violence and ownership and love like they were the same damn thing. Then his father looked at me. A long, cold, unblinking stare. Like I was a stain. A disgusting stain whose very existence offended his bloodline. My chest tightened. I tried to hold his gaze, but it made my throat close. My feet shuffled backward half a step before I caught myself. Don’t you dare show fear, Camila! But I didn
We stepped out of the car and within seconds, it was like the whole goddamn forest came alive. People had gathered. Lots of them. Like they’d known we were coming, like some invisible alarm had gone off. Children peered from behind legs, grown men stood like statues, and women stood wide-eyed, whispering. It was... strange. Like we’d just walked into the climax of a fantasy novel. I half expected someone to raise a sword or start chanting in Latin. Then— “Zarek?” a soft voice said, cracking in disbelief. I turned. A girl with the brightest red hair I had ever seen was moving toward us—toward him. Her long legs carried her fast, her boots crunching on leaves and gravel, her green eyes brimming with tears. “Zarek?” she called again, voice louder. I blinked. Zarek? Ethan smiled. Or... Zarek smiled? What? My heart did something weird in my chest. It flipped—or maybe flopped—as she launched herself at him, arms wrapping tight around his torso like she was afraid he’d
It took us days. Not hours. Not just one or two days. Days. And before I knew it, we were in a damn forest. Not the pretty kind you see in calendars or documentaries with softly rustling trees and birds chirping like some Disney soundtrack. No, this was the kind of forest that looked like it had teeth. Twisted trees stretched tall and wide, casting shadows that curled like claws across the damp earth. The deeper we drove into it, the denser everything became. Like the sun was too scared to shine all the way through. And I was suddenly… quiet. Which was saying something, because I’d been talking non-stop for most of the trip. Asking a million questions about the pack, about the rules, about how many people were there, about what they’d think of me, if they'd be suspicious of a human—or whatever the hell I was now. But now? Now I was just clutching my water bottle with both hands, biting the inside of my cheek and trying not to let the forest swallow my nerves whole. B
By the time we found a motel, the sun had already started bleeding into the horizon. Everything looked golden and tired, like the sky itself was winding down for the day. I couldn’t tell if the dull ache behind my eyes was from lack of sleep, the weight of everything that had happened, or just the sheer exhaustion of pretending I wasn’t scared out of my mind. Ethan parked the car in front of a squat, dusty building with a neon sign that blinked “VACANCY” like it was barely holding on to hope. The parking lot was cracked in places, weeds pushing up between the cement, and the whole place smelled faintly of hot asphalt and damp pine. “Not exactly a five-star hotel,” I muttered, squinting out the window. Ethan reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “We just need a place to rest. Somewhere quiet.” Quiet. That sounded nice. I hadn’t realized how badly I wanted silence until he said it. Inside the motel, everything looked like it hadn’t been touched since the e
I never imagined this was how I’d see Greg again. Not like this. Not looking like a man who hadn’t slept in days—who hadn’t eaten or breathed right in just as long. Greg looked... smaller somehow. Not in size—he still had that solid build, like a boulder someone had tried to chisel into shape—but in energy. Like he’d lost something important and didn’t know how to get it back. He looked up when we entered, and his eyes, bloodshot and sunken, landed on Ethan first. His lips pressed together in a grim line, and then they shifted toward me. His expression faltered for a second. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was confusion. But before he could even open his mouth, his gaze dropped again—as if he couldn’t handle it. Like he didn’t know what to say to the girl whose mother he had promised to protect. “Hey,” he muttered, more to Ethan than to me. Ethan didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, a wall of silence and steel beside me. But I felt the tension rolling