It's Time
1235 Words
Talia's POV
But it's hard. So damn hard. And as much as I try to convince myself that I don't care what they think, a part of me does. A part of me still wants to be accepted. A part of me wishes to have what they have—a place in the pack, a sense of purpose, and, most of all, a wolf to call my own.
But that’s not my reality.
Eventually, I force myself to get up, brushing the dirt from my jeans. I can’t stay out here forever, no matter how much I want to. The day is only beginning, and there are still preparations for tonight—a gathering I would rather avoid but one I know I have no choice but to attend.
In a pack like ours, absence is noticed. And when it is, it’s remembered.
With one last look at the trees, I turn and head back toward the store. I go straight to the grocery store, pick up a few things, and then head back home without wasting time.
By the time I return, the house is already busy with activity. My mother is in full preparation mode, moving around the kitchen as she handles the final touches for tonight’s feast. Every family is expected to bring their dishes and then share with other people at the party. You know, something like a love feast. The smell of spices and cooked food fills the air, strong.
My father is by the fireplace, polishing his boots carefully, making sure they shine. Appearance matters tonight. It always does during gatherings like this, especially when higher-ranking wolves and visiting dignitaries are involved.
Jackson is stretched out on the couch, scrolling through his phone with the kind of boredom only a teenager can manage.
“Talia, there you are!” Mom exclaims as soon as she sees me. “I was starting to worry you decided to skip tonight.”
“Tempting,” I mutter, dropping the grocery bag on the counter. “But I'm here, aren’t I?”
She gives me a knowing look, pausing as she stirs a pot. “I know these gatherings aren’t your favorite, sweetie, but the pack needs to see you there.”
Needs to see me.
I let out a small breath. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to deprive them of their favorite punching bag,” I say with a slight grin, though the humor feels weak even to me.
Mom frowns immediately. She sets the spoon down and wipes her hands on her apron before turning fully to me. “That’s not true, Talia. Whether they realize it or not, you are part of this pack.”
“I don’t feel like it most days,” I admit, leaning against the counter. I can see the concern in her eyes, the way her expression softens when she looks at me.
Dad clears his throat, setting his boots aside and standing up. “Your mother is right. Tonight is about more than just the feast. It’s about showing the neighboring packs that we are strong and united. And that includes you, Talia.”
United.
I glance between them. They constantly try to calm me like this, and somehow it works, even if only a little. They want me to stand tall, to show the pack that I belong.
But how do I do that when I don’t believe it myself?
“I’ll be there,” I say finally. “But I’m not promising to enjoy it.”
Jackson snickers from the couch. “Who enjoys these gatherings anyway? It’s just an excuse for everyone to show off—ranking, strength, connections.”
“Watch it, Jackson,” Dad says, though there is a small smile on his face. “This is important. And we are all going to put on our best faces tonight. Understood?”
Jackson rolls his eyes but nods. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”
The gathering is only hours away, and the thought of standing in front of the entire pack, with all their eyes on me, makes my chest feel tight.
Mom seems to notice. She comes closer and places a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be okay, Talia. Just be yourself. You have more strength than you think."
I nod, even though I’m not sure if I believe that. Her words are meant to comfort me, but instead they make me think about the gap between who I am and who I’m expected to be.
Still, I try.
I help Mom with the final preparations. I chop vegetables, pack the food, and move around the kitchen, keeping myself busy. It helps keep my thoughts from drifting too far into the worst possibilities.
Time passes quickly.
Before I know it, Dad glances at the clock. “Time to get ready.”
I sigh and head back to my room.
The dress I’ve chosen hangs on the back of my door. It’s simple and black, nothing special. I pick it because it doesn’t stand out. Tonight, blending in feels safer than being noticed.
I change quickly, avoiding the mirror as much as possible. I don’t want to think about how the fabric fits, how it clings in places I wish it wouldn’t, or how different I will look compared to the other girls with their lean bodies and perfect hair.
Still, I catch a quick glimpse of myself.
I look… the same.
Just dressed differently.
As I finish getting ready, there’s a knock on my door.
I turn to see Jackson leaning against the doorframe. His usual smirk is gone, replaced by something more serious.
“Hey,” he says. "You okay?”
“Yeah,” I reply, forcing a small smile. “Just… nervous.”
He nods and steps into the room, hands in his pockets. “Look, I know I don't always check up on you, but… you’ll be fine, Talia. Just ignore those idiots and enjoy the night.”
I blink, surprised. That’s not something I hear from him often.
A small warmth spreads through my chest. “Thanks, Jackson. This means a lot.”
He shrugs quickly, like it’s nothing. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”
I let out a small laugh, and some tension in me eases. “Of course.”
He turns to leave, but a thought forms in me. “Jackson, wait,” I call.
He pauses and looks back. “What is it?”
I hesitate for a second. I’m not even sure why I’m asking, but the question slips out anyway. “How do I look?”
His expression shifts, and for once, he looks uncomfortable and avoids looking into my eyes.
“Uh… no,” he says slowly. “You don’t want my opinion. But, Talia… you’ll be fine. What will be, will be, okay?”
It’s not really the answer I wanted, but I nod anyway. Before he can say anything else, Mom's voice calls from downstairs.
“Talia! Jackson! Time to go!”
Jackson gives me one last look. “You’ll be fine, okay?”
Then he turns and heads down the stairs.
I’m left alone in the room.
For a moment, I just stand, listening to my heartbeat, feeling the weight of everything waiting outside that door.
Then I take a breath.
And I follow.
- Writer
