After My Rebirth, I Gave My Mate to My Stepsister

The fluorescent lights in the Silvercliff Pack registration office buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glare on the blank contract spread before me. My fingers trembled slightly as I held the pen, the black ink seeming to mock me with its permanence.

Across the desk, Axel drummed his fingers against the worn wooden surface, the rhythmic tapping echoing through the sterile room. He wore that black henley shirt—sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms—the exact look that had made Maren blush and stammer whenever she saw him. Even now, the sight of those familiar muscles made my chest tighten with a pain I'd carried for too long.

"Come on, Ivy," he said, his voice edged with impatience. "It's just a signature. We've been through this a dozen times."

Just a signature. As if binding our lives together meant nothing more than signing a grocery receipt. I stared at the contract's pristine surface, the words "Spouse" and "Alpha Mate" swimming before my eyes. In my previous life, I'd signed this same document with trembling excitement, my heart racing with dreams of our future together.

How naive I'd been.

Memories crashed over me like a tide. That first night after our wedding ceremony, when I'd waited in our new bedroom wearing the silk nightgown I'd saved for months to buy. Axel had burst through the door at midnight, frantic and disheveled.

"Maren's having terrible cramps," he'd said, already changing out of his wedding suit. "I need to get her some medicine and stay with her tonight. You understand, right?"

I'd nodded, swallowing my disappointment like bitter medicine. Of course I understood. Maren was his adopted sister, fragile and sweet. What kind of monster would I be to resent her?

Axel's phone buzzed against the table, yanking me back to the present. His entire demeanor shifted as he read the message, concern flooding his features.

"Shit," he muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. "Maren's feeling sick again."

The familiar ache settled in my chest. Even here, in this moment that should have been about us, she managed to intrude. I watched him type a quick response, his brow furrowed with worry that he'd never shown for me.

"You know what?" I said quietly, setting down the pen. "You have somewhere urgent to be. Just go."

His head snapped up, surprise flickering across his face. "Are you sure? I mean, this is important—"

"I can handle submitting the paperwork myself." The words came out steadier than I felt. "It's not like I need you to hold my hand."

Relief washed over his features so quickly it might have been comical if it didn't hurt so much. He was already standing, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.

"Thanks, Ivy. You're... you're the best." He paused at the door, his expression growing serious. "And listen, about Maren—try not to let your jealousy show so much, okay? It's not a good look, and it could damage her reputation if people start talking."

The words hit me like a physical blow. Jealousy. After everything I'd endured, every sacrifice I'd made, every time I'd bitten my tongue and smiled while he chose her over me—he still saw me as nothing more than a petty, jealous woman.

I'd tried to explain it to him countless times in my previous life. How it felt to watch him drop everything whenever she called. How it hurt to see him remember her favorite coffee order while forgetting my birthday. How lonely it was to sleep next to someone who was always thinking of someone else.

But in his eyes, I was always the villain in their story.

"I understand," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, satisfied, and disappeared through the door. The sound of his footsteps faded down the hallway, leaving me alone with the contract and the weight of my memories.

I picked up the pen again, my hand steadier now. The registration clerk, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, glanced up from her computer.

"Take your time, dear," she said gently. "These decisions shouldn't be rushed."

If only she knew how long I'd been making this decision. Not just today, but through years of a marriage that had slowly drained the life from me. Through pregnancy complications he'd missed because Maren had needed help moving apartments. Through our son's first steps, which he'd witnessed through a video call because he'd been comforting Maren through her divorce.

Even at the end, when cancer had been eating away at my body and I'd been too weak to lift my head from the pillow, he'd spent more time at Maren's bedside, helping her through her depression over her failed marriage.

Our son had knelt beside my deathbed, tears streaming down his face. "Please, Mom," he'd whispered. "Don't make Dad choose. He loves you both. Can't you just... can't you just let him be happy?"

I'd died with those words echoing in my ears, wondering when loving someone had become synonymous with erasing myself.

But this time would be different.

I pressed the pen to the paper, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over me. In the spouse section, instead of my own name, I wrote in careful script: Maren Thorne.

Let him have what he'd always wanted. Let him stop pretending that duty and obligation were the same as love. Let Maren have the man who'd already given her his heart years ago.

And let me finally be free.

I signed my name at the bottom with a flourish, then slid the contract across the desk to the clerk. She glanced at it, did a double-take, then looked at me with confusion.

"I'm sorry, dear, but there seems to be a mistake. The name in the spouse section doesn't match your identification."

"There's no mistake," I said, standing up. "I'm transferring my marriage contract to Maren Thorne. It's all legal—she's an unmated female of age in the pack, and Alpha Axel has expressed clear preference for her companionship."

The clerk's eyes widened, but she processed the paperwork with professional efficiency. Within minutes, she handed me an official document bearing the Silvercliff Pack seal.

I stared down at the certificate: Alpha Axel Wren & Maren Thorne, Officially Bonded.

Strangely, I felt no sadness. No regret. Just a lightness in my chest that I hadn't experienced in years. For the first time since my rebirth, I could breathe freely.

I tucked the certificate into my purse and walked toward the door, my steps lighter than they'd been in decades. Behind me, I could hear the clerk frantically making phone calls, probably trying to figure out the legal implications of what I'd just done.

But that was no longer my problem.

This time, I wouldn't be the woman who waited at home while her husband's heart belonged to someone else. This time, I wouldn't sacrifice my dreams for a love that had never really been mine.

This time, I would spread my wings and fly far from the cage I'd built around myself.

The afternoon sun felt warm on my face as I stepped outside, and for the first time in two lifetimes, the future stretched before me like an open sky.