Moonlight Under The Mistletoe: Cursed Alpha’s Savior

3: FAMILY MAKES EVERYTHING BETTER

This was it. I was finally going home, after all this time. Who knew all it was going to take was ten years, a miscarriage, a divorce, a broken heart, bankruptcy and cancer? Who would have guessed.

I’d imagined this moment so many times before, each time filled with excitement at the idea of showing Dan my family, of finally bringing him to the small house I grew up in, where every corner was filled with memories. I used to beg him, every holiday, every chance I got, but he always had a reason. “Next year,” he’d promise. “Next holiday,” he’d assure me, flashing that same charming smile. He’d tell me he was just busy, that work was demanding. But now I knew the truth. He didn’t care about my family. And maybe he’d never cared about me.

I forced down the bitterness that tried to creep up my throat. This wasn’t the time to think about him, not when I was finally heading back to the people who’d loved me before he ever came into my life. People who still loved me, even now, when I had so little left of myself to offer. I looked out at the crowds moving through the terminal, people hugging their loved ones goodbye, families huddling close together. It was silly, but for just a moment, I wished there was someone here to see me off, to tell me it was all going to be okay. But I’d made sure to keep it all quiet. No one knew. There’d be no sympathetic smiles, no sad glances following me as I boarded.

The announcement over the loudspeaker pulled me back to the present. I grabbed my carry-on, steeling myself.

I could handle this.

I’d gotten this far. All I needed was to get through the next few hours, to put one foot in front of the other until I was home. Then I could think, maybe even start to heal. But not yet. I wasn’t about to fall apart here, in front of strangers.

Once the plane took off, I let out a small, relieved breath, watching as the city below faded into clouds. “Goodbye,” I whispered softly to myself, though I wasn’t sure if I was saying goodbye to the city, to the life I was leaving behind, or to the woman I’d been all these years. Maybe all three.

When the plane finally touched down, my nerves started to mess with me.

The thought of seeing them—my mother, my little sister who wasn’t so little anymore, she was three years younger than me. How much had they changed? How would they look at me, now that they knew what I was facing? I hadn’t spoken to my mother in years.

I walked through the arrival gate, scanning the crowd nervously, half-expecting not to recognize them after so many years. But then I saw her—my mother, her face lighting up when our eyes met. And beside her, my sister. She looked so grown up, her hair pulled back, her eyes watching me with a mix of excitement and something that looked like sadness.

The moment I reached them, I felt everything inside me crack open. All the strength I’d tried to hold onto on the plane, all the walls I’d built around myself these past weeks, they crumbled in an instant. I dropped my bags, barely managing a choked “Mom…” before the tears started, hot. She wrapped her arms around me, holding me close, rubbing my back as I sobbed.

“Shh, honey,” she whispered, her hand running soothingly over my hair. “You’re home now. You don’t have to be strong. Not here.”

I buried my face against her shoulder, my hands clutching at her like I was afraid she might disappear. I felt like a child again and she was the one thing keeping me from falling apart completely.

My sister moved closer, hesitantly putting a hand on my shoulder. “Hey,” she said softly, her voice cautious. “We’re really glad you’re here. We missed you so much.”

I looked up, wiping my face quickly, trying to compose myself even though I knew they’d already seen me break down. “I missed you, too,” I managed, my voice thick and wobbly. “I’m… I’m sorry it took me so long to come back.”

Mom shook her head, pulling me close again. “You’re here now, Coco. That’s all that matters. We’ll get through this. Whatever you need, we’re here.”

They didn’t ask questions, didn’t push for answers. They just held me, giving me the space to breathe.

Finally, I managed to pull myself together, taking a deep breath and stepping back, shooting them a shaky smile. “I must look like a mess,” I said, trying to laugh a little, though it sounded weird.

My sister smiled back, squeezing my hand. “You look perfect to us.”

All of a sudden my pain felt a little bearable. I felt so glad I boarded that plane.

The past three days, I hadn’t left my room, barely even stepped out into the hallway. I could hear the soft murmurs of my family going about their lives, but each sound felt like a reminder of how much I’d missed. My siblings—so grown, practically strangers now. How had I let that happen? All this time, I’d thought I was doing fine, building a life. I never realised how much I was missing until I came back to a pack that barely felt familiar anymore.

The pack itself had changed, grown larger and somehow brighter, busier than I’d ever seen. Mom used to tell me that things were flourishing here, but I’d brushed it off. I thought she’d just been trying to lure me back, making it sound like home was everything I was missing out on, but I never believed her. It didn’t help that I hated this pack because of how much I got bullied by my fellow kids while growing up wolfless, they were the reason I fled from the pack as soon as I could.

But now, seeing it with my own eyes, I couldn’t deny it. And, honestly, it made everything worse. I felt like a failure, an outsider in the one place that should have felt like home.

I was lost in these thoughts when a soft knock sounded on the door. Before I could answer, my two younger sisters slipped in, each holding something wrapped in red paper. They looked at each other, sharing a quick, secretive grin before one of them said, “Merry Christmas!”

Christmas? I blinked, shocked I hadn’t even realized. I’d been so tangled up in my sadness that I’d lost track of the days, hadn’t even noticed the lights around the pack house or the faint sounds of carols drifting from downstairs.

Christmas used to be my favourite time of year. I remembered decorating with Mom, baking with my younger sisters, sneaking out in the snow with friends. But my best memories of Christmas were always with him, with Dan, wrapping gifts late into the night and laughing about who would give in to temptation first. The thought was enough to bring tears to my eyes.

“Are… are you okay?” Sarah, my immediate younger sister asked softly, breaking through my daze.

I forced a smile, nodding. “Yes, sorry. It’s just… I didn’t realize it was Christmas.”

They exchanged glances again, then handed me the gift, urging me to open it. I hesitated, taking a deep breath, then carefully pulled at the wrapping paper. Inside was a small, leather-bound book, one I’d read a few years ago. It wasn’t anything grand, but it was so thoughtful and I couldn’t stop myself—I pulled them into a hug, feeling a rush of gratitude and the tears that I fought to hold back.

“Thank you,” I whispered, “This means a lot.”

One of them squeezed my hand, smiling. “We’re just glad you’re here.”

The moment was quiet, comforting. But before long, my immediate younger sister broke the silence, giving me a determined look. “So, about tonight…”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out where she was going with this.

“There’s a party. An annual pack party—it’s tradition now. You’re coming.”

“Me? No,” I shook my head, the idea of stepping into a crowded room full of people was the last thing I wanted to do. “I’m really not up for it.”

She crossed her arms, not backing down. “You don’t have a choice. You’re coming, Coco. You need this.”

I tried to protest, but she wouldn’t hear it. Eventually, I sighed, giving in with a reluctant nod. She gave me a triumphant smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back, just a little.

The evening came too quickly, and soon I found myself walking into the grand hall, my sister by my side. I was bundled in a thick coat, grateful for the excuse of my cold to hide under the layers. I didn’t want to think about who might recognize me, who might be judging me but I couldn’t help it.

People were bound to recognize me, I grew up here, I recognised them too. I recognised the people that bullied me and made my childhood miserable, I recognised acquaintances and I wanted nothing but to disappear.

If life were a fairy tale, I would have walked back here a success, arm-in-arm with a loving billionaire husband and adorable kids. But this wasn’t a fairy tale, and the truth was painfully clear—I’d come back with empty hands and a broken heart.

I noticed the eyes turning our way, the faint whispers I could barely catch. I’d been the awkward girl, the outsider they loved to laugh at. And here I was again, feeling more exposed than ever.

“Just keep walking,” my sister whispered, sensing my hesitation. I nodded, swallowing hard, and kept my gaze forward, trying not to shrink under their stares.

But then, out of nowhere, a strange scent hit me, intoxicating, like nothing I’d ever smelled before. It filled my senses, drawing me in, urging me forward. I couldn’t help myself; I turned, searching for the source, my heart suddenly racing.

And then I saw him.

He stood across the room, tall and broad-shouldered, with an intensity in his eyes that seemed to fill the entire space. His dark eyes met mine, holding me captive, and for a moment, I felt the whole world slip away, I could no longer hear the murmurs and it felt like we were the only ones in the room. I couldn’t look away, couldn’t breathe. There was a pull, something magnetic, something… primal.

It felt like my mind was playing tricks on me but I could here it clearly. Mate.