I’ve always known where I stood in this family.
From the moment my sister Freya and I were brought into the Norman pack’s home, the distinction was made clear. Freya was their miracle child, the one who, by some cosmic twist of fate, resembled their lost biological daughter. They lavished her with love and paraded her as the Norman family's rightful heir, their precious second chance.
And me? I was just… there.
They didn’t say it outright, but the way they treated me spoke louder than words. To the outside world, I was the adopted stray they took pity on. I was the extra, the mistake, the shadow that always lingered behind Freya's dazzling light.
I thought I had grown used to it. The subtle digs, the indifferent gazes, the way everyone—from my so-called parents to the pack members—acted like I didn’t matter. But tonight, as I sat at the dining table, I realized it still stung.
“Aria,” Freya’s voice sliced through the awkward silence like a blade. Her tone was saccharine, but her words dripped with condescension. “Do you even care about this family? We’ve been waiting for you for hours, and you waltz in here as if nothing happened.”
I lifted my gaze to meet hers, forcing my expression to remain neutral. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
Freya smirked, the kind of smirk that made my blood boil. She thrived on these moments—moments where she could paint me as the careless, disrespectful sister while she played the role of the perfect daughter.
“You’re always like this,” she continued, feigning exasperation. “I don’t know how you can be so thoughtless, especially to Mom and Dad. Have you no respect for them?”
I didn’t respond. There was no point. Arguing with Freya was like trying to howl at the moon and expecting it to howl back.
Dave, ever the knight in shining armor, stepped in to defend her. “Don’t be upset, Freya. Aria didn’t mean anything by it. Don’t argue with her.”
His words were like a dagger to my chest, twisting and tearing at my already fragile composure. He didn’t even glance at me—his focus was entirely on her.
It wasn’t the first time.
I’d seen the messages. Hundreds of them, hidden away in a private account he thought I’d never find. Messages filled with declarations of love for Freya, with promises to protect her, to always be there for her. Messages that painted a picture of a life they were building together—without me.
The betrayal cut deeper than I thought possible. Dave wasn’t just my mate; he was supposed to be my partner, my other half, the one who would stand by my side against the world. Instead, he had been plotting a future with my sister, the very person who had spent her life ensuring I stayed in her shadow.
“Aria,” my father’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. His tone was curt, as always. “Sit down. You should be grateful to have someone like Dave by your side. He’s done so much for this family.”
I clenched my jaw, biting back the urge to lash out. Grateful? For what? For a mate who spent more time holding my sister’s hand under the table than he did looking at me? For a family that treated me like a guest in my own home?
But I swallowed my pride and obeyed.
As I sat down, my gaze flickered to Dave. He was smiling, basking in the praise of my parents. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. His hand, subtly reaching under the table to clasp Freya’s.
The lump in my throat threatened to choke me. I wanted to scream, to confront them both, to demand answers. But I didn’t. Instead, I forced myself to pick up my fork and take a bite of the meal in front of me.
Soon.
That word became my anchor, the only thing keeping me grounded. Soon, I would be free of this place, of these people who had done nothing but suffocate me. The ship would be ready in a few days, and then I could disappear, leaving them to their perfect little lives.
---
The next morning, Dave woke me with a kiss. His lips brushed against mine, and I flinched, pulling away instinctively.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with faux concern.
I forced a smile, trying to mask the disgust bubbling beneath the surface. “Nothing. Just startled, that’s all.”
His smile returned, bright and carefree. “Don’t forget, we’re supposed to go try on wedding outfits today. Only a week left until the big day!”
I nodded numbly, the reality of the situation sinking in. A week. That was all the time I had left before I became his wife in name only.
Dave leaned in, wrapping his arms around me. “I can’t wait to call you my wife. I’ve been dreaming of this day for so long.”
I felt bile rise in my throat. Dreaming of what? Marrying me, or using me as a stepping stone to stay close to Freya?
But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I let him hold me, counting the seconds until I could pull away.
---
As the day wore on, the weight of the situation pressed down on me. Every moment with Dave felt like a reminder of his betrayal, of the lies he had spun so effortlessly.
And Freya? She was everywhere. Every detail of the wedding seemed designed to revolve around her. The colors she liked, the flowers she preferred, even the music—it was as if I didn’t exist.
But that was nothing new.
From the moment we were adopted, Freya had made it clear that there wasn’t room for two daughters in this family. She sabotaged me at every turn, framing me for things I didn’t do, twisting every situation to make herself look better. And my parents believed her every time.
As I stood in front of the mirror that evening, staring at the dress Dave had picked for me, a thought struck me.
Why had I spent so long trying to please people who didn’t care about me?
I turned away from the mirror, my resolve hardening.
In a week, they would all get the surprise of their lives.
I wasn’t going to stand in Freya’s shadow anymore.
I was going to step into the light—and leave them all behind.
