Before Our Wedding, My Alpha Requested a Month to Cheat

Before the wedding, Alpha Kendrick stood before me, his jaw tight, his eyes shadowed with a storm of hesitation and hope. “Can you give me a month?” he asked, his voice low, almost pleading. “A month for what?” I shot back, my tone sharper than I intended, though my heart already braced for the answer. He exhaled deeply, ignoring the edge in my voice. “A month to try rekindling my relationship with Elena Manwaring. She’s my fated mate, and... this might be the Moon Goddess’s blessing.” Ah, fated mate. I should’ve guessed. Kendrick and I were never fated mates. I was his convenient choice, never his destined one. “So, if it doesn’t work out, then what? Another month?” I tilted my head, forcing a faint smile that practically screamed, Go ahead. Rip my heart out. “If it doesn’t work,” he said, his gaze steady, “I’ll come back to you. I’ll marry you and leave her behind—forever.” “Forever,” I echoed, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. Zara, my wolf, growled faintly in the back of my mind. Let me claw him. Just once. But I didn’t argue. Instead, I gave him the faintest of smiles and replied, “Go ahead. Give it a try. Life’s too short for regrets, right?” Relief washed over his face, so palpable it made my chest tighten. That night, he drove off, lighter and freer than I’d seen him in years. And me? I quietly packed my belongings. I called home. “Mom,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me, “the wedding’s off. I’m coming home to help with the Moon Eclipse Pack.” My mother didn’t even feign surprise. If anything, she sounded downright gleeful. “Finally! Your father and I always said that man wasn’t reliable. Ten years, and he still couldn’t commit!” she scoffed. “Honestly, sweetheart, we thought you’d lost your mind.” I let her rant, offering a few hums here and there. “Perfect timing,” she added. “The pack just allied with the Blue Moon Pack, and they’re looking for an experienced wolf trainer. I’ll set everything up.” “Sure,” I murmured, cutting the conversation short. The thought of diving into training rogue wolves or mentoring pups sounded perfect—anything to keep my mind occupied. I glanced around my apartment, taking in the scattered wedding souvenirs. Personalized candles. Silk napkins embroidered with our initials. Zara huffed again. Ten years with that jerk. Ten years of being second choice. You should’ve let me bite him. I said nothing, just stared at the remnants of a dream I had built and lost. It hadn’t always been like this. Once, I believed in Kendrick. I stood by him when his pack struggled, when he had nothing to offer but empty promises. I turned down my rightful place as Alpha of the Moon Eclipse Pack to stay by his side. I had a choice. I could’ve gone home, inherited my pack, and become Alpha. Instead, I chose him. Without hesitation. His Red River Pack was small, insignificant, a speck along the Mississippi River. Nothing compared to my family’s power. But I didn’t care. I just wanted him. I imagined a life together—building something from the ground up, proving that love was stronger than destiny. So, I waited. While my friends built their lives—marrying, having kids, moving on—I stayed. I turned down every opportunity my parents offered and let year after year slip by, waiting for him to finally say, “Let’s get married.” Reunions were the worst. “So, when’s the wedding?” someone would always ask, followed by laughter. My friends covered for me, claiming I just wasn’t ready for the “grave of marriage.” I played along, smiling and pretending it didn’t sting. But deep down, I wanted it more than anything. To be Luna in more than just name. To be his partner. His future. But the truth was, Kendrick wasn’t waiting for the right time. He was waiting for her. The Return of Elena Manwaring Three months ago, Elena came back. I ignored the signs because Kendrick proposed to me. Suddenly, he threw himself into wedding plans. He helped pick out the dress, sat through endless food tastings, and obsessively debated wedding favors. He was attentive. Patient. Always there. And I let myself believe it was real. That he had finally chosen me. That illusion shattered one late night. I woke to the faint glow of light beneath his study door. Curiosity—or perhaps something more desperate—led me down the hall. Quietly, I peeked inside. He wasn’t working. No spreadsheets, no maps. No Alpha duties. In his hands were Elena’s things: a scarf, a journal, and a trinket box she’d left behind. He held them like treasures, his fingers brushing the scarf’s fabric with an unbearable tenderness. The look on his face—a mix of longing and love—made my stomach twist. It was the kind of look you give someone who owns your heart. Someone you’ve never let go. I froze in the doorway, torn between stepping inside and walking away. He didn’t see me—too absorbed in the memories those objects carried. And in that moment, I saw everything. The way his shoulders slumped under an invisible weight. The quiet sigh that slipped past his lips. This wasn’t just nostalgia. It was longing. This was about Elena. Her ghost—or at least the memory of her—hung heavy in the air. Whether Kendrick and I got married or not didn’t depend on love or destiny. It depended on her. On whether she decided to take him back. And me? I was just a placeholder. A stand-in. The second choice. They say the things we can’t have in our youth haunt us forever. If a missed opportunity or a forgotten dream can ache like that, how much worse must it be for someone who once meant everything? I stepped back into the shadows before he could notice me and returned to our bedroom. The bed felt too big. Too cold. I lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself I didn’t care. But the tightness in my chest told a different story. The days leading up to the wedding blurred into chaos. Flowers. Seating arrangements. The Luna ceremony rehearsal. I threw myself into every detail, hoping the frenzy would drown out my doubts. I told myself it was fine. That Kendrick’s occasional distracted glances and absentminded smiles didn’t mean anything. That his late nights in his study were just wedding stress. Then, one afternoon, we received a shipment of wedding souvenirs—delicate, hand-painted glass favors engraved with our initials. I picked up one of the boxes and frowned. The packaging was careless, the wrappings half-done. One of the glass favors tumbled out, landing in my palm. It was beautiful, no doubt. But as I stared at the etched initials—K&E—my breath caught in my throat. K&E. Not Kendrick and Me. Kendrick and Elena. My fingers tightened around the fragile glass as the truth crashed over me. This wasn’t an accident. It was a sign. And in that moment, the delicate favor shattered between my fingers, sharp edges cutting into my palm. But I barely felt the pain. Because the real wound was deeper. It had been there all along.