I Thought You Loved Me Until I Died

Olivia’s POV “Olivia, you have two days left. After that, the disease will be irreversible,” the doctor said, his voice clinical and distant, as if this was just another patient, another case to be handled. Two days. The words echoed in my mind like a drumbeat, each one sinking deeper and deeper into my chest. Serumitus Lycanthros—a disease that only affected the purest of wolves, a curse that drained your very essence, stealing away the ability to shift, to connect with your wolf, and then—slowly—killing you. I looked around the sterile room. Aria, my only friend left, stood in the corner, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and helplessness. She didn’t say anything. There was nothing left to say. “I… I might know a way,” after a while, she murmured, her voice barely above a breath, as if the thought had only just formed. “I need to find someone. I have to go.” Before I could respond, she turned quickly and left, her footsteps fading down the hallway. I felt completely abandoned. I turned my attention to the only way I could reach out. My family. They would help. They had to help. I tried to reach my parents through the mindlink. My father never responded. My mother connected for barely a second—then cut me off without a word. I swallowed and reached for my mate. Lucas… Silence. The bond felt blocked, cold and distant, as if a door had been slammed shut from the other side. He had sealed me out completely. A bitter smile tugged at my lips, and a chill spread through my chest. The doctor standing beside me must have noticed. His eyes softened with pity as he gently placed his phone into my trembling hand. “Try calling them,” he said quietly. My fingers felt numb as I dialed my mother’s number. I lay back weakly against the pillow, every breath shallow, the ringtone echoing loudly in the sterile room. Once. Twice. Five times. Ten. She finally answered. Before I could even speak, her sharp voice pierced through the line. “If it’s nothing important, don’t call me. Do you have any idea how busy we are? Evelyn just fainted! The whole family is in chaos and you’re still adding trouble—” She was about to hang up. “M-Mom… I…” My voice came out hoarse, barely audible. “I’m sick…” I wanted to tell her I only had two days left. I hadn’t even finished the sentence when my father’s voice cut in from the side, cold and impatient. “Enough with the lies. Every time Evelyn is sick, you suddenly fall sick too. Aren’t you ashamed?” “Yes,” my mother snapped, her tone sharpening. “Stop trying to steal attention. Your sister is the one who really needs us right now.” My chest tightened painfully. I couldn’t breathe. The doctor beside me finally couldn’t hold back. She leaned closer to the phone, her voice firm. “Sir, Madam, she isn’t lying. Her condition is critical. She only has two days left if we don’t begin treatment immediately—” “What?” My mother’s voice rose, filled with anger rather than shock. “Now you’ve even found a doctor to help you deceive us? How far are you willing to go just to compete with Evelyn?” My fingers clenched weakly around the phone. Then I heard Lucas. His voice was unmistakable—cold, distant, and laced with accusation. “You’ve always been jealous of Evelyn. You could never tolerate her being cared for. Is this another one of your tricks?” Each word felt like a blade sinking into my chest. Before I could respond, a soft, trembling voice joined the chaos. “Please… don’t blame her,” Evelyn said weakly. “Maybe she didn’t mean it… She’s just… scared…” Her tone was gentle, fragile—sickeningly sweet. “She’s always been like this,” someone murmured admiringly. “So kind… even now she’s still defending her sister,” my mother said, her voice full of pride. I closed my eyes. The pain inside me spread like ice. Suddenly, a loud cry came from the other end. “Evelyn!” my mother shouted. “She fainted again!” The line erupted into panic—shuffling footsteps, hurried voices, Lucas calling her name. And then— The call disconnected. The room fell silent. The doctor looked at me helplessly, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. I stared at the ceiling, unmoving. At some point, I realized my pillow was soaked. Tears had slipped out without me noticing, sliding silently into my hair. My chest ached so badly it felt hollow. I was still alive. But in that moment, surrounded by cold walls and fading hope, I had never felt so completely alone. Memories came rushing back, sharp and unstoppable, as I lay there staring at the ceiling. When I was little, my parents loved me—truly loved me. My father would lift me onto his shoulders after training, his deep laughter rumbling in his chest as I clung to his hair. “My little Luna,” he would say proudly, “one day this pack will be yours to protect.” My mother used to braid my hair every morning, her fingers gentle and patient. She would hum softly while I leaned against her knees, drowsy and warm. At night, she would tuck me in and kiss my forehead. “You’re our miracle,” she’d whisper. “Never forget how much we love you.” Back then, I believed it. I believed I was the center of their world. Everything changed when I was ten. Father returned from the border one evening with a girl about my age. She stood behind him, thin, dirty, and silent, her eyes hollow with fear. “Her parents died in the war,” Father said, his voice heavy. “As Alpha, it’s my duty to take responsibility for her. From now on, she’ll live with us. Her name is Evelyn.” I still remember the way she clutched her torn sleeve, trembling. I walked up to her and offered my hand. “It’s okay,” I told her gently. “You can stay with me.” From that day on, I treated her like a real sister. I shared my room with her, gave her my favorite blanket when she woke from nightmares, and secretly brought her sweets from the kitchen. I helped her learn the pack’s customs, walked her to training, and stood beside her whenever the other children stared. Once, when she cried for her parents in the middle of the night, I held her until she fell asleep against my shoulder. “You’re not alone anymore,” I whispered. “I’ll stay with you.” My parents were delighted to see us getting along. Mother smiled more often. Father would nod approvingly. “You’re a good sister,” he told me once, ruffling my hair. “I’m proud of you.” I was happy too. I thought we had become a real family. But slowly… something changed. At the beginning, they were all small things—petty misunderstandings, things that could have been brushed aside with a little patience. But everything truly changed after one incident. I was twelve. It was the night of the pack’s winter gathering, the first time Father had allowed me to help with the preparations. I was excited, running back and forth between the kitchen and the hall, trying to prove I was responsible enough to stand beside him one day. Evelyn stayed close to me the whole time, quiet and obedient as always. At some point, she told me she felt unwell and wanted to rest in Mother’s room. I helped her there, made sure she was lying down, then returned to the hall to continue working. Not long after, a scream tore through the house. Everyone rushed upstairs. I followed, my heart pounding, only to find Evelyn collapsed on the floor beside the bed, her arm bleeding from a deep gash. Mother was kneeling beside her, shaking, while father’s face had gone terrifyingly cold. “What happened?” he demanded. Evelyn’s eyes fluttered open, tears sliding down her temples. She looked at me—only at me—before lowering her gaze. “I… I didn’t mean to make her angry…” she whispered weakly. “I just… I just told her I wanted to be her sister forever… but she said I already had… and then…” Her voice broke. Mother turned to me, her expression filled with disbelief. “You pushed her?” “I didn’t!” I blurted, panic surging. “I left her resting here and went back downstairs! I never—” Father’s voice cut through mine, sharp and final. “Enough.” The word hit harder than a slap. He didn’t even look at me. The healer later said the wound was from falling against the table’s sharp edge. No one questioned how it happened. No one asked why there were no signs of struggle. They had already decided. From that night on, something in my parents changed. The warmth in Mother’s eyes faded. Father stopped praising me, stopped calling me his pride. Their gazes, once gentle, became distant… guarded. Whenever Evelyn was near, they watched me carefully, as if waiting for me to do something wrong. And Evelyn—she only grew more fragile, more careful, more pitiful. If she tripped, they blamed me for not watching her. If she cried, they asked what I had done this time. If I tried to explain, their expressions hardened. “You’re the older one,” Mother would say coldly. “Why can’t you be more tolerant?” “An Alpha’s daughter shouldn’t be so narrow-minded,” Father added. “Learn to control your jealousy.” Jealousy. That word began to follow me everywhere. No matter what happened, it always circled back to me. Eventually, they stopped hiding their preference. Evelyn sat beside Father during pack meetings. Mother personally oversaw her training and health. They spoke of her as if she were the daughter they were proud of. And I… became an obligation. A responsibility. Someone they tolerated out of duty. If I showed hurt, they frowned. “Don’t overthink.” “Stop being sensitive.” “You’re making things difficult for everyone.” Each sentence pushed me further away. Until, one day, I realized I had already been standing outside the circle of their love for a long time. Then my mate, Lucas, changed too. I don’t even know when it began—and I never expected that the man who once swore he would never leave me, no matter what happened, would one day end up standing on her side. Maybe it was when Evelyn started appearing at the training grounds more often. Maybe it was when she began tending to his wounds, offering him water, speaking to him in that soft, fragile voice. Maybe it was when he started seeing her as someone who needed protection. At first, he still stood by me. But slowly, his tone softened when he spoke to her… and hardened when he spoke to me. “Why are you always so harsh toward her?” he asked once, frowning. “I’m not—” I tried to argue. “She’s already lost everything,” he interrupted. “Can’t you show some kindness?” Kindness. As if I had never given her any. As if the years I spent protecting her, caring for her, loving her like a sister had never existed. From then on, every disagreement ended the same way. He believed her silence. Her tears. Her gentle excuses for me that made me look even worse. And without realizing it, he stepped over to her side… just like everyone else had. By the time I noticed, it was already too late. My parents stood with Evelyn. Lucas stood with Evelyn. The pack saw Evelyn as the fragile, kind girl who deserved everything. And me? I became the problem. The jealous daughter. The cold sister. The unreasonable mate. The one people avoided. The one they whispered about. The one no one chose. Somewhere along the way, I had been completely pushed out of my own life. Left behind. Abandoned. Just as I was drowning in the weight of those memories, the door suddenly burst open. Aria rushed in, breathing hard, strands of hair clinging to her flushed face. Her eyes were bright—alive with a kind of urgency and hope I hadn’t seen in days. “Olivia!” she called, almost shouting, her voice trembling with excitement. “I found it—I found a cure!”