The White Wolf

Goodbyes are Hard

“Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.”

- Marilyn Monroe

The bathroom tiles were cool beneath my trembling palms as I sank to the floor, lost in a sea of emotions. Tears streamed down my face, hot and unrelenting. It felt as if my heart had been ripped out of my chest, leaving behind an unbearable ache.

As I sat there, huddled in the darkness, I couldn’t help but replay the moment over and over in my mind. His words echoed through my thoughts like a cruel mantra. “I can’t be with you. I’ve found someone else.” The pain of his betrayal was a weight on my chest, suffocating me.

But I couldn’t stay there forever. With a heavy sigh, I wiped away my tears, determined to face the world. I couldn’t let my family and friends see the devastation that consumed me. So, I pushed the pain deep down, locked it away, and wore a mask of normalcy.

Days passed, and life continued its relentless march forward. I went through the motions, going to school, spending time with friends, and trying to focus on anything but the ache in my heart. I kept my secret close, afraid to burden my loved ones with my pain. They sensed something was amiss, but respected my silence, patiently waiting for me to confide in them.

At school, it felt like everyone knew. I could feel their sympathetic gazes, their pitying stares. I wanted to scream at them, tell them to mind their own damn business. But I held my tongue, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me crumble.

Nighttime became the sanctuary where I could finally let my emotions spill forth. Alone in my room, I clutched a book, its pages a temporary escape from my reality. But even fiction couldn’t shield me from the searing pain in my soul.

And then it happened, again. The surge of heat radiated from my core, accompanied by an intense, gut-wrenching pain. My wolf, Snow, whimpered in agony. It wasn’t the familiar sensation of a shift; it was something else entirely.

“Mate,” Snow whispered, her voice laced with sorrow and betrayal. Cole was mating with another, a she-wolf who wasn’t me. The realization crashed over me like a tidal wave, intensifying the pain that already consumed me. I curled into a ball, tears flowing freely as I clutched my pillow, desperate to drown out the heart-wrenching sounds of their union.

Exhaustion eventually claimed me, and I succumbed to a fitful sleep. When I awoke the next day, a throbbing headache greeted me, a reminder of the previous night’s torment. The decision had crystallized in my mind—I would run away. I couldn’t bear to stay in the same pack as my mate, witnessing his love and affection for another every day.

With a heavy heart, I carried on with my day, concealing my intentions from those around me. I didn’t allow myself to think about the pain of leaving my family and friends behind. I couldn’t afford to let my resolve waver. Nightfall arrived, and I gathered my essentials, my hands shaking slightly.

Taking a deep breath, I reached for a pen and paper, deciding to leave two letters—one for my family and one for my now ex-mate. I began with the letter to my family, pouring my emotions onto the paper, trying to explain the turmoil within.

My hand trembled as I wrote, tears staining the page. I assured them that my decision to leave was not their fault and that I couldn’t bear to stay in a pack where I would constantly be reminded of my mate’s betrayal. I urged them not to search for me, promising that when the time was right, I would reach out.

The next letter, addressed to my mate, held a mix of pain and newfound strength. I acknowledged that I deserved better than his rejection and thanked him for making me realize that. I refused to apologize, knowing deep down that I had done nothing wrong. But despite the pain he had caused, I couldn’t find it in me to wish him ill. I genuinely hoped he would find the happiness he sought.

With the letters completed, I placed them carefully on my dresser and crawled into bed, exhaustion weighing heavily on me. Tomorrow would mark the beginning of my new life, free from the heartache that he had caused.

Morning arrived, and determination fueled my every step. I double-checked my bag, ensuring I had everything I needed. I took a quick shower, letting the water wash away the remnants of the past. Dressed in a light, flowing dress, I hesitated at the door, my hand resting on the handle.

“Goodbye, family,” I whispered, my voice filled with a mix of sorrow and determination. With one last glance at the home I was leaving behind, I stepped out into the unknown, refusing to look back. My journey toward healing and self-discovery had just begun, and in I would face it head-on, no matter how difficult it might be.