Chapter 6

The sleep I had after all the fun was divine. Deep. Uninterrupted. When the dawn filtered through the curtains and warmed my face, I woke with something new settling inside me.

Purpose.

This weekend, I would decide what I wanted to study. No more drifting. No more postponing.

I slipped out of bed and followed the familiar sounds of movement downstairs.

“Aunt, Uncle, good morning,” I greeted, bowing slightly out of habit.

My aunt’s smile was radiant.

Werewolves didn’t usually struggle with mornings, but she embraced them like an old friend. “You look good this morning, Christy.”

“Thank you, Aunt. Let me help with that.” I reached for the spices she had placed on the tray.

She handed me a tray of plucked vegetables to chop instead. “Take this. Nolan’s got the spices covered.”

As if summoned by name, Nolan walked in, sleeves already rolled up, unwrapping seasoning packets and peeling garlic cloves with practiced efficiency.

Soon the kitchen filled with the rich scent of curry and herbs. The warmth wrapped around me, grounding and comforting.

Only then did Alexis wander in, Andy trailing behind her, still half-asleep.

Andy inhaled deeply and immediately perked up. “Curry rice? What’s the occasion?”

“You’re such a foodie,” my aunt teased. “There’s no occasion. We’re celebrating family this weekend.”

“Go on, set the table with Alex. We’ll be down soon.”

Breakfast was incredible. Every spice blended seamlessly, every bite layered with warmth and flavor. The laughter came easily, exclamations of delight echoing around the table. Andrea was the loudest in her praise, and no one disagreed.

Surrounded by voices and warmth, I felt something loosen in my chest.

With the euphoria still lingering after the dishes were cleared, I stepped aside and called my mom.

“Mom?”

“Christy, my baby. How’s Oslow?”

“Oslow is great, Mom.”

“I’m glad to hear it. You’re on speaker, honey.”

“Okay.”

“Hello, everyone.”

“Everyone?” No one asked you Collins. “It’s not a conference call, Christy. Just two extra people,” Collins’ voice cut in.

I rolled my eyes despite myself. “I take back my greeting to you, Collins. Good morning only to Dad.”

My father’s laughter rumbled warmly over the phone, followed by my mother’s softer one.

“How was your night, Christy?” Dad asked. His voice was deep and steady, like it always had been.

“Fine, Dad.” I hesitated just a fraction, remembering yesterday’s heavy thoughts. “It was fine.”

“We’ve missed you,” he continued.

I smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.

“I’ve missed you too. That excludes you, Collins.”

“Well, I didn’t miss you either!”

My mother shattered his bravado immediately. “Really? You asked about her this morning.”

“Well, well, well,” I said smugly.

“You didn’t hear anything,” he muttered.

I laughed and let him off the hook. “Mom, what did Alpha Bradley say about the letter?”

There was a pause — brief, but noticeable.

“He didn’t take it too well,” she admitted carefully. “But don’t worry, honey. He accepted it.”

Something in her tone suggested more, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to dig into it. Not today.

“How’s Celestial Moon been?”

“The same as always. I have a shift this morning, so I’ll be leaving soon. Say hello to Leila and the rest of the family for me.”

“I will.”

“Goodbye, Christy. Have a nice day,” Collins chimed in dramatically.

“Bye, everyone.”

The call ended.

I stared at my screen.

Thirteen minutes.

It felt like everything and not nearly enough.

The purpose I’d woken with began to feel heavier as I opened Oslow University’s website.

Do what you love, they say. If only it were that simple.

Psychology. Sociology. Law. Economics. Accounting.

The words blurred together.

My spine slumped until my forehead touched the table with a soft thud. “Goddess.”

“Christy?” my aunt’s voice came from behind me. “What are you working on?”

I lifted my head. “Trying to decide which program to apply for.”

“And?”

“I want something meaningful. Something I can continue even if I return to werewolf society.” I hesitated. “Something fun. Relatable. Useful.”

She glanced over my scribbled notes and chuckled softly. “That’s quite a list.”

“I know.”

“How about studying each one properly? Research them individually. When you understand them clearly, one will feel right.”

I sighed. “Psychology. Sociology. Law. Economics. Accounting.” The uncertainty crept back into my voice the longer I listed them.

“That’s a wide net,” she said gently. “But tell me, which one can you imagine doing for a lifetime?”

Before I could answer, Alex walked in. "What do sociologists do, Mum?”

“They study the systems, principles, and beliefs that govern society,” she explained. “It’s a strong choice, Christy.”

Alex nodded thoughtfully. “I want to be a pilot. At least for now.”

The certainty in her voice was almost enviable.

“That’s great,” I smiled. “I’m rooting for you.”

“I’m rooting for you too, Christy in whatever you end up rooting yourself in.”

Then her eyes brightened. “You should talk to Mr. Rowan! He does those volunteer speeches for Career Day. He lives nearby. He’ll help you.”

I didn’t think much of it at the time.

Until later.

I was seated in a quiet café, a psychology book open in front of me, when a familiar voice interrupted my concentration.

“Christy, right? The twins’ cousin.”

I looked up.

“Yes.” I blinked in mild surprise. “You remember me.”

He laughed lightly. “You thought I’d forget?”

Nothing was imposing about him that suggested he was a figure of authority, no overwhelming aura. Just calm presence.

“You’re studying psychology?” he asked.

“Trying to figure out if it’s for me,” I admitted.

“May I sit?”

“Of course.”

He set his tray down and sat across from me. “Psychology can seem tedious at first,” he said. “But understanding the complexity of the mind is fascinating. Emotions, motivations, perception, they shape everything.”

“Are you a psychologist?”

“Not quite,” he smiled. “But I took a few courses and I read a lot. I suppose I’m an enthusiast.”

I laughed. “That counts.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. We spoke about the human mind, about identity, about how the environment can shape belief.

There was no pressure in the exchange. No performance. Just steady, engaging dialogue.

At some point, I realized I had lost track of time.

There was nothing imposing about him. No overwhelming aura. No sense of authority pressing down.

Even my wolf, usually alert around unfamiliar males, remained quiet.

Content.

His phone rang eventually. He apologized softly and stood.

“This was a wonderful conversation,” he said. “Let me pay the bill. Think of it as an encouragement treat"

“Thank you,” I said, slightly flustered but grateful.

He pulled out a pen and paper from his cross bag and wrote something down.

“If you ever have questions about psychology or university applications, feel free to call.”

He slid the paper across the table.

“Psychology enthusiasts like us should compare notes.”

There was humor in his eyes, but also sincerity.

“Thank you Mr Rowan,” I said again.

“Goodbye, Christy. Please call me Rowan”

“Have a nice day… Rowan.”

He smiled at that.

As he left the café, I found myself staring at the folded paper in my hand.

Alex had been right.

And Rowan wasn’t just a good teacher.

He was… steady.

And for the first time since arriving in Oslow, I felt something shift, not fate, not instinct.

Just the quiet possibility that my future didn’t have to be dictated by bonds or expectations.

It could be built.