Two

A throbbing pain pressed behind my eyelids and the noise inside my head surged like a siren.

I pressed my fingers to my temples and sat up, trying to knead the ache away. Light pushed through the familiar curtains, and the sight snapped everything into place.

No.

Fuck.

I was in my parents’ house.

Which meant they knew.

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

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

I reached across the nightstand and grabbed my phone. I needed to call Ria.

Before I could unlock the screen, the door creaked open.

Astrid walked in carrying a bowl of soup, her nose tilted in the air like she owned the room. The smell of chicken and herbs followed her.

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

“Hey, sis,” she said brightly. “Feeling rough? I made soup.”

“I feel like a truck hit me and came back to check the damage,” I muttered, pushing myself against the headboard.

Astrid set the bowl in my lap. The broth steamed with noodles and shredded chicken, and the heat seeped into my hands.

She turned toward the door.

“Wait,” I said. “How did I get here?”

She leaned against the frame and pulled out her phone.

“Ria brought you.”

Then she tilted the screen toward me.

“Oh, and you’re trending. Big time.”

The video filled the screen.

There I was on one knee, holding the ring. Donovan looked horrified. His fiancée stood beside him with that smug expression.

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

I dropped my face into the pillow.

“Oh God. Turn it off.”

Astrid kept scrolling anyway.

“Let’s see… ‘So desperate.’ ‘What a joke.’ ‘That poor guy, she ambushed him.’ Oof. This one says, ‘stupid bitch.’”

Only a few people even suggested Donovan might be the asshole.

My skin was supposed to be rhino thick.

It still hurt.

Donovan hadn’t just dumped me. He humiliated me and lied while getting someone else pregnant.

After everything I’d dealt with from men, maybe I was destined to become a spinster with a dozen cats.

Speaking of cats, my Persian Snowy jumped onto the bed and let out an impatient yowl. I scratched his fluffy white head and he immediately curled beside my leg.

“At least you still like me,” I muttered.

Eventually I forced myself out of bed and dragged myself downstairs. The tile floor felt cold under my feet and every step felt heavier than the last.

Dad sat in his armchair with a newspaper resting on his knee. The lines around his eyes looked deeper than usual.

Mom sat upright on the sofa holding a teacup, her mouth pulled tight.

Her head snapped toward me the moment I stepped into the room.

Luther sprawled across the far end of the couch, thumbs flying over his phone. He didn’t even glance up.

“Good to see you’re finally awake, Vespa,” Mom said. “Your particular brand of recklessness deserves its own university course.”

I stared at the rug.

“Mom. Dad. I’m sorry. I thought Donovan loved me.”

“You thought?” Mom shot to her feet. “You imbecile. You dated a werewolf just to disgrace us, then staged a public stunt for the entire world to watch. What were you thinking?”

“Mom, please,” I said. “It was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Her voice climbed higher. “You created a public circus and embarrassed this family across the internet, and you call it a mistake?”

That did it.

“You’re supposed to be on my side!” I snapped. “You could ask what happened before tearing into me. I thought getting married young might actually make you happy. You’re always talking about grandchildren.”

Her expression twisted.

My voice cracked.

“Maybe I don’t owe you grandchildren after all.”

They had me late in life after twenty years of infertility. I thought settling down early might make my mother proud.

Instead all I saw was disappointment.

“You don’t excuse yourself by throwing your uterus around,” Mom said sharply. “Especially not to a werewolf. You’ve shamed us, and I’m not surprised. You’ve always had a gift for dragging chaos into this house.”

The argument ended there.

Days blurred together after that.

Home turned suffocating. Mom turned every meal into another lecture. Dad avoided conversation. Luther barely spoke.

By Sunday, Ria called.

“Skip any more classes and you’ll wreck your final year,” she said.

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

My hands tightened on the steering wheel as I parked near the journalism building.

Scandal loves a popular target.

And I was very popular.

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

The hallway felt almost normal. A few whispers. A few curious looks.

Then class ended and the real comments started.

“Delusional.”

“What a joke.”

“So much for feminism. Begging a man like that.”

Each word landed hard, but I kept walking.

“They can’t all be assholes,” Ria muttered beside me.

I gave her a weak smile.

By noon I hid inside the Student Union office pretending to work. Papers and notes covered my desk but nothing held my attention.

Then the dean walked in with a bright smile.

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

The words hit like a punch.

After he left, Kaden, the student president, leaned back in his chair with a wicked grin.

“Guess who’s handling their registration?”

I didn’t answer.

“You,” he said. “Our resident werewolf enthusiast.”

Ria muttered something under her breath while I stared at the desk.

Kill me now.

We set up the registration table outside the hall and waited.

Soon more than ten buses pulled in and werewolf students stepped off, tall, confident, moving through the crowd like they owned the place.

Ria nudged my arm.

“Holy hell, Vespa. Look over there.”

“Them who?” I said without turning. “I’m not interested in werewolves anymore. They can take their perfect bodies somewhere else.”

She grabbed my arm and forced me to look.

“The three guys from the airport,” she whispered. “The ones who caught you.”