PROLOGUE

Arielle’s POV

My world was shattered that day, and the joy I imagined I would feel when I met him was nothing but a dream.

His voice was not raised at me, yet I could feel the intent to wound me in his words. And, oh, did they hurt. Leon was nothing if not effective, and it showed now more than ever.

“I never loved you, Arielle,” he said, not for the first time. He was trying to convince me to let go, but I could not. My tears streamed down my cheeks like twin rivers. I could not breathe, and my knees felt weak.

I reached for him, clinging to his arm and begging him, with everything I had, not to say those words again. It was far too much for me to bear. It was a nightmare.

He shook his arm from mine, and I could not steady myself. Falling to the ground, I braced myself on my two hands, shocked that he would do this to me. He pushed me away. I never expected he could ever do that to me.

“Leon, please,” I sat on the ground, not caring at all that the cream sundress I had worn was getting stained. Nothing mattered anymore.

I could see my entire future going up in flames, right before my eyes.

As I stared into the hazel eyes of the man I loved so much – and who I thought had loved me in return – I was taken aback by the stark indifference that I saw in them. Was this really who Leon had been all this time?

My chest ached for him; I ached for my mate.

Yet when I cried out for him, he did not respond, only gazing at me with those cold eyes, like I meant nothing to him.

“This is goodbye, Arielle,” he said with his still-stony expression. With those last words, he walked away, leaving me a sobbing mess on the ground. I could not even summon the energy to scream at him. Instead, I held my trembling hands to my chest, letting my vision blur as more tears spilled from my eyes. I gasped and choked on the breaths that I tried to let out.

I do not remember how I finally found the strength to stand up that day, but I know over an hour had passed until I could move. The spring rain had arrived, and it drizzled on me as I walked back to the pack compound – back to my home. I know that I must have garnered some stares – the young girl walking while it rained, not caring whether she got wet or caught a cold.

Once I got home, I had locked myself in my room and cried some more. I did not care to eat during the days that passed; I didn’t  even care to get up from bed except to brush my teeth and have a shower. Even while I showered, I would end up crying, while letting the water rain down upon me, washing away my tears the moment they spilled onto my cheeks.

Throughout that period, my mum knocked on my door all day and night. She would leave behind plates of food at my door, and would sometimes place post-it notes full of encouragement and love on the plates. I would keep the notes and read them whenever I felt like crying again, and it would make me smile instead. I loved my mother, even though we had our differences. She was the only one in my corner. Even though she did not know what was bothering me, she knew it was bad. In the end, no one would know what had happened. To me, there was no point in telling anyone.

Who could I tell, that I had been rejected by my mate? My mother was the only one close to me, the only reason that I stayed in this pack. After my dad died, the two of us became a bit distant from our fellow pack members. I did not have any friends, though right then I wished that I did.

Perhaps it was because I wanted someone to understand me, I reasoned during one of my lucid moments. Perhaps that was why I ended up falling for him in the first place. Perhaps that was why I thought he would be better than that. I had put y all into loving him, placed all my hopes into leaving this place with him at my side. Yet he had disappointed me. He had deceived me, and hurt me.

I don’t remember when that thought finally took root. I don’t know the exact moment I stopped grieving my love for him, or his rejection of me. It just happened – one day, I woke up and felt nothing for him.

That day, I got up from the bed, disgusted at myself for how dirty my room had become, and began cleaning in a frenzy. My mother was overjoyed to see me open the door to my room as I cleaned. After that, I hopped under the shower, and for the first time in over a week, I was dry-eyed when I exited, putting on my fluffy blue bathrobe.

I looked into the mirror, stunned at how gaunt I looked; my hair looked limp and my eyes were dull. The wave of frustration that flooded my body drove me to grab my hairbrush and blow-dryer, taking the time to brush my hair for the first time in days. I wore a blue dress, and put on some makeup.

When I was finished, I surveyed my reflection, feeling a strength I did not know I would ever be able to muster up within me. I looked good and I may not feel as great on the inside, but I would. In time, I would heal from this.

You’re not dead yet, Arielle, I told myself firmly. You can do this.

You can forget him.

Someday, I will find my true mate.