All Chapters of The Alpha Who Ruined Me: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I couldn’t focus.Every time I tried to concentrate at work, at school, even at home, my mind wandered back to him. Sebastian. Just the thought of his voice, his touch, the way he claimed me in subtle, suffocating ways—it made everything else feel hollow. Even my boyfriend, who used to feel enough, now seemed like an obstacle I had to endure.I stared at my phone, hoping for a message, a sign, anything. But there was nothing. Not even a hint. And the emptiness gnawed at me, impatient, demanding.I didn’t know when it had started—the slow erosion of my patience—but I knew I had reached the point where I could no longer tolerate my life the way it was. My old routine, my obligations, my boyfriend’s half-hearted attempts at attention—they all felt like chains. And the more I tried to focus on them, the heavier they pressed.I clenched my fists, gripping the edges of my desk, trying to ground myself. The fluorescent lights above seemed harsher than usual, and the quiet hum of computers an

I didn’t realize how far I’d drifted from myself until the world outside Sebastian started to feel unreal.It wasn’t dramatic at first. It was subtle. Quiet. A gradual dulling of everything that wasn’t him.The drive home that night felt like moving through fog. Streetlights blurred together, headlights streaked like fading memories, and the radio played a song I didn’t recognize—one I didn’t care enough to change. My phone buzzed once on the passenger seat.My boyfriend.I glanced at the screen, saw his name, and felt… nothing.No excitement. No guilt. No relief.Just irritation.I let the phone buzz until it went silent, then placed it face down, as if that small gesture could quiet the growing truth pressing against my chest.I don’t belong there anymore.The thought scared me—but it didn’t feel wrong.The next day, everything confirmed it.At work, my body went through the motions while my mind stayed elsewhere. Conversations blurred. Laughter sounded hollow. Even my own reflectio

There are moments in life that feel small while they’re happening.A step.A word.A decision that seems quiet enough to take back later.But some moments aren’t small at all.Some are lines.And once you cross them, you don’t get to pretend you’re still standing on the other side.I knew the line was coming long before I reached it.I felt it in the way my phone buzzed and I didn’t rush to answer if it wasn’t Sebastian.In the way my boyfriend’s voice started sounding like background noise instead of comfort.In the way guilt no longer sat heavy in my chest—it hovered, distant, like something I could step around.I told myself I wasn’t doing anything irreversible.That I was still in control.That I could stop whenever I wanted.But that night, standing outside Sebastian’s building again, I already knew I was lying to myself.I hadn’t been invited.Not exactly.But he’d said earlier, Come if you need to think.And thinking, lately, only led me to him.The hallway was quiet when I ste

It didn’t happen all at once.No one staged an intervention. No one accused me outright. There was no dramatic confrontation where someone grabbed my shoulders and demanded to know what I was doing with my life.Instead, my friends faded the way music fades when you leave a room—gradually, until you don’t realize how quiet it’s become.At first, it was missed calls.Then it was unanswered messages.Then it was group chats I stopped opening because I didn’t know what to say anymore.I told myself it was temporary. That I’d catch up soon. That I was just busy.But busy with what?With him.It was a Wednesday afternoon when Maya finally called instead of texting.I stared at her name on my screen for a full ten seconds before answering.“Hey,” I said, forcing my voice into something light.“Hey?” she repeated, and I could already hear the tension in her tone. “You sound like I caught you doing something illegal.”I laughed softly. “No. Just… tired.”“You’ve been ‘tired’ for three weeks,”

The silence after his anger didn’t feel empty.It felt heavy.Like the room itself was holding its breath.Sebastian stood a few feet away from me, shoulders still tense, jaw tight, the aftermath of that outburst lingering in the air like smoke after a fire. I’d never seen him like that before. Controlled, yes. Intense, always. But not… that.Not the flash of something dangerous.My heart was still beating too fast. I didn’t know whether to step closer or farther away. Whether to speak or stay quiet. Whether he wanted me there at all.He dragged a hand down his face slowly, exhaling. The anger wasn’t gone—it was buried. Contained. Locked somewhere deep behind those dark, unreadable eyes.“Did I scare you?” he asked finally.His voice was low. Calm again. But not soft.I swallowed. “Yes.”I didn’t lie.Something flickered across his expression—not guilt. Sebastian didn’t do guilt the way other people did. But there was something… aware. Like he was taking note of the effect he’d had on