Meet Talia (2)
1312 Words
Talia's POV
I sigh, poking at the pancakes with my fork. “Why do I even care?” I mumble. “It's not like their opinions matter.” But the truth is, no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, their words always stick to me like glue. They settle in my mind and refuse to leave, making it difficult to shake the feeling that I will always be an outsider in my pack, no matter how hard I try to fit in.
I take my last bite of the pancake. It tastes bitter and, at the same time, sweet. Not because of the food itself, but because it reminds me that breakfast can't last forever. Moments like this never do. I push the plate away, lean back in my chair, and take a long breath, letting it out slowly.
After a while, I stand up and return to my room, my steps slow. I stop in front of the mirror again. I always do this, even when I already know what I’ll see. The mirror never seems to work in my favor.
My reflection stares back at me, unchanged, showing a mix of resistance and acceptance. My fuller figure should make me feel confident, but it doesn't. It should show strength, discipline, and control, but it doesn't either. It tells a different story. My hair is stubborn, refusing to be tamed no matter how much I brush or smooth it down. And my clothes do nothing to hide my size. If anything, they make it more obvious.
I hold my gaze for a moment longer before looking away.
As I get ready for the day, my thoughts drift to the gathering tonight. It’s the one event where the entire pack comes together under one roof to celebrate, like a get-together as the humans would call it. Not just to celebrate, but to be seen. To show rank, strength, alliances—everything that matters in the Moonlight Pack.
I’ve never really understood the appeal.
To me, it’s just another opportunity for everyone to show off their perfect lives and perfect bodies, while people like me try to stay unnoticed. In a gathering where even seating arrangements reflect status, I already know where I’ll end up—somewhere at the edge, where no one important has to look my way.
I glance at the clock and realize I’m wasting time standing here, stuck in my head. I move quickly, pulling on a pair of jeans that are a little too tight and a T-shirt that has clearly seen better days. I run a brush through my hair, but it barely helps. The curls bounce right back into place, like they’re making fun of me.
“Good enough,” I say with a small shrug, giving up. There’s no point in trying too hard.
Just as I head for the door, I hear my mother call from downstairs. “Talia! Breakfast?”
A small smile forms on my face. Mom knows I’ve already eaten. She can always tell when I’ve been in the kitchen—the mess gives me away every time. Still, she asks anyway. She always does. It’s her way of including me, of making sure I don’t feel left out, even in my own home.
“I'll be down in a minute!” I call back, grabbing my hoodie and slipping it on. It feels like armor. A soft barrier between me and the world. Something to hide behind when the stares and whispers get too much.
As I walk down the stairs, the smell of bacon and eggs greets me, mixing with the smell of syrup lingering from earlier. The house feels warm, lived-in, and safe in a way the rest of the pack territory never quite does.
My parents are already at the table. Dad is reading the newspaper, calm and focused, while Mom moves around, serving food. My younger brother, Jackson, sits hunched over his phone, barely looking up as I enter.
“Morning, Talia,” Mom says with a warm smile, gesturing to a chair. “We saved you a seat.”
I take my usual spot, glancing around at them. My family. The one place where I’m not measured against everyone else. There’s comfort here, in the routine, in the understanding that I don’t have to prove anything.
“How did you sleep?” Dad asks, folding his newspaper and giving me his full attention.
I shrug, reaching for a piece of bacon even though I’m not that hungry. “Same as always. Woke up to the sun in my face.”
Dad chuckles, the deep sound easy. “We could put up thicker curtains, you know.”
“Nah, I like the light. Besides, it's not like I'm getting much beauty sleep anyway,” I reply, earning a small laugh from both of them.
Jackson snorts, finally looking up from his phone. “You could use it.”
“Thanks, Jackson. Always so supportive,” I say, rolling my eyes, though a small smile still slips through. It’s normal. This is how we are.
Mom gives him a look, one that clearly says she doesn’t want his comments. He quickly looks back down at his phone, pretending to be focused on it again. I notice, and I appreciate it, even if I don’t say anything.
Mom clears her throat slightly, steering the conversation away. “Are you ready for tonight? The pack gathering?”
The word alone makes my stomach tighten. I keep my expression neutral and shrug. “As ready as I’ll ever be. It’s not exactly my favorite event.”
She nods slowly, her expression soft but concerned. “I know, sweetie. Just try to have a good time, okay? It’s important to your father and me that you’re there.”
Important.
Of course it is. Attendance matters in a pack like ours. Being seen matters. Even for someone like me.
I nod, even though the thought of it already drains me. “I’ll be there,” I say, forcing a small smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
“Good,” Dad says with a nod. “That’s all we ask.”
There’s an approval in his tone, the kind that comes with meeting expectations, even small ones.
As I finish and begin clearing my plate, Mom reaches out and squeezes my hand gently. “Remember, Talia, we’re proud of you. No matter what.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say softly, squeezing her hand back. Her words help, even if they don’t fully take away the weight sitting in my chest.
I turn to head back upstairs, planning to stay in my room for as long as I can before the day properly begins.
But then the front door swings open after a small knock. The visitor seems in such a hurry that waiting for an answer might take his life.
The room shifts instantly.
Alpha Bran walks in without waiting to be announced, his presence filling the doorway before he speaks. Everything about him carries authority—the way he stands, the way he looks around the room like he owns it. Which, in a way, he does, because here in the Moonlight pack, the Alpha seems like the head of every family.
My heart skips.
My parents straighten almost immediately, their posture changing in a way I’ve seen many times before when someone of higher rank steps in. Even Jackson lowers his phone slightly, more aware now.
No one questions why he’s here.
No one asks.
He’s the Alpha.
“Talia,” he says, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “We need to talk.”
I freeze, still holding the plate in my hand. The air feels heavier, tighter, like something bad is about to happen.
What could the Alpha possibly want with me?
- Writer
