The Alpha's Rejected Curvy bride

Walking Away

(Isla)

I walked away.

That was the only thing I could do. One foot in front of the other while the whole pack stared. The crowd parted for me like I was diseased. Like if they touched me, his rejection would spread to them too.

Nobody laughed, but that was the worst part. They just watched, silent and pitying. Even Serena had stopped smiling.

The cold air hit my face and I realized I was crying. I hadn’t even felt the tears start. They were just there, cold on my cheeks, dripping onto the collar of my dress.

Mate. Rejected. Hurt.

My wolf was a mess inside me. Curling in on herself and whining.

He is ours. He is ours.

“Not anymore,” I told her. “He made his choice.”

The bond screamed in protest. It was a sharp pull in my chest that made me stumble. I pressed my hand over my heart like I could hold it together with my fingers.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare let them see you break.

I made it to the edge of the square before my legs gave out. I ducked behind the old oak tree where the kids used to carve their names. Where Mira and I used to hide when we were ten and the other pups called us ugly.

My back hit the bark and I slid down but then I couldn’t hold it anymore.

It wasn’t loud and I didn’t scream.

It was much worse. Small, broken sounds that I tried to muffle with my hands. The kind of crying you do when you’ve learned that nobody’s coming to help.

Twenty-two years.

Twenty-two years of being the girl no one wanted. The girl with the wrong parents. The girl the Luna candidates used as a joke and for one night, I had thought that was over.

For one night, the Alpha had looked at me like I was something to be wanted, Like I was his.

Did you really think one night would change anything?

Yes, I thought. Goddess help me, yes I did.

The bond pulled again, harder this time. It felt like a hook in my ribs, dragging me back toward the square and toward him.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Stop,” I whispered to it. To him. To myself. “Just stop.”

I don’t know how long I sat there. The sounds of the pack faded. Boots on dirt. Whispers dying out.

When I finally stood, my legs shook. My face felt tight and raw.

I couldn’t go back to the main houses, not yet.

So I went to the cottage. The one at the edge of the woods. The one he had come to last night.

It was a mistake the second I opened the door.

It still smelled like him. Cedar and winter and something warm that was uniquely Zayden. The blanket on the bed was still rumpled. There was a dent in the pillow where his head had been.

I pressed my back to the door and slid down again. This time there were no tears left. Just emptiness.

The bond tugged. Confused. It didn’t understand rejection. It only understood mates.

“Go to him” it urged. Fix it.

“He doesn’t want us,” I told it. “And I’m tired of wanting people who don’t want me back.”

There was a knock.

Three soft taps. They were hesitant.

My heart leapt into my throat because for one second, cruel second, I thought it was him. That he had realized his mistake. That he was here to say the words in reverse.

“Isla?” A voice. It was quiet and shaky as I was scared of hurting myself. “It’s me. Can I come in?”

Mira.

Of course it was Mira.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand. It came away wet. When had I started crying again?

“Yeah,” I called. My voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. Thin and used up. “It’s open.”

The door creaked. Mira stepped in and stopped dead. Her dark hair was falling out of its braid like she’d run here. Her cheeks were red from the cold. And her eyes — goddess, her eyes — were full in a way that made my chest ache more.

She took one look at me on the floor and her face crumpled.

“Oh,” she breathed.

Then she was crossing the room in two steps and sitting down beside me. Not touching at first. Just close. The way we used to sit when we were kids and hide in this exact spot because the other pups were throwing rocks.

“I brought soup,” she said quietly. She set a chipped ceramic bowl down between us. Her hands were shaking. “You didn’t come back after. I waited. And then I heard and I... I got scared.”

I stared at the soup. It was steaming. It smelled like her mom’s kitchen. Like the nights we’d stayed up whispering about leaving this pack and finding somewhere we fit.

“I’m not hungry,” I whispered.

“I know,” Mira said. Her voice cracked. “Eat anyway. Please.”

We sat there. The bond pulled in my chest, sharp and insistent. It didn’t care what he’d done. It just wanted proximity.

Mira noticed. She always noticed.

“They’re saying things,” she said finally. Her jaw was tight. “Stupid, cruel things. About you. About what he said.”

I laughed. It hurt. “Let them.”

“No.” Mira turned to me, fierce. “You don’t deserve any of it, Isla. Not from him. Not from Serena. Not from anyone in this damn pack.”

The words hit somewhere soft and dangerous.

“I thought...” My throat closed. “Last night I thought maybe it meant something. That he looked at me like I was—”

“I know what you thought,” Mira cut in softly. She reached over and took my hand. Her fingers were warm. Calloused from kitchen work. The same hand that had held mine when we were ten and I’d come home with a black eye. “And I know what it feels like when the whole world decides you don’t get to have nice things.”

A sob broke out of me. Ugly and raw and I couldn’t stop it.

Mira didn’t say “shh”. She didn’t say “it’s okay”. She just squeezed my hand and let me fall apart. Right there on the floor of the cottage, with the smell of him still in the air and the bond still screaming.

When I could breathe again, I leaned my head on her shoulder. She smelled like bread and soap and home.

“I’m so tired, Mira,” I whispered. “I’m so tired of hoping.”

“I know, love,” she murmured. She brushed my hair back from my face with her free hand. “I know you are.”

We sat like that until the soup went cold. Until the light outside went from gold to gray.

Finally, Mira stood. She pulled me up with her. My legs shook.

“The bond is a b***h,” she muttered, and I let out a watery laugh. “But it’s not you. Don’t you dare let what he said become what you believe about yourself. You hear me?”

I nodded. I couldn’t speak.

She walked me to the bed. She didn’t ask if I wanted to be alone. She just pulled the blanket over both of us and laid down, fully clothed, and wrapped an arm around me.

“I’ll be here,” she said into my hair. “Tomorrow. And the day after. And every day until he’s an i***t no more.”

“Or until you decide you don’t care about idiots anymore.”

I closed my eyes. For the first time since the square, the bond quieted. Just a little.

Outside, the wind picked up. The trees bent and somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard a door slam.

I didn’t go to it, not this time.

With Mira’s arm around me and her breathing steady against my back, I let myself sleep and for a few hours, I didn’t have to be the rejected mate.

I just got to be Isla.

The girl who still had one person who chose her.