"Don’t be too hard on Osmond," my mom said softly, her voice thin but full of love as she adjusted her scarf by the door. "He’s a Beta. Being busy just comes with the job. You’re marrying him soon, Camille. Relationships are about compromise."

I stayed quiet, hands clasped in front of me, biting back the urge to argue. She always talked about compromise like it was the only thing holding a relationship together.

Her figure looked smaller than ever—thin and fragile—her hands shaking a little as she fixed her scarf again. "Call me when you get home, okay? And don’t skip meals. You’ve got a lot going on, but I know you’ll handle it."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. Just two weeks ago, we got the news—stage six lung cancer. It was like the world had shifted overnight, leaving us scrambling to hold on. She wanted to come meet Osmond before things got worse, but he barely spared her five minutes.

“I’ll visit soon,” I said, forcing a smile. We both knew it wasn’t true. Between her health and Osmond’s growing distance, I felt like I was being pulled apart at the seams.

As her car disappeared down the winding forest road, I stood there, letting the tears fall. I hated feeling this helpless.

By the time I got back to the house, the sun was already setting. Inside, the living room was dark, except for the soft glow of Osmond’s laptop. He was sprawled on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling like he had all the time in the world.

“Hey,” I said quietly, setting my bag down.

“Hey,” he mumbled, not even looking up.

I waited for him to ask about my mom or my day. He didn’t. Instead, he laughed at something on his phone.

“Work rough today?” I tried again, my voice sharper this time.

“Exhausting,” he said flatly, not even bothering to elaborate.

I sighed, heading toward the kitchen. As I passed by, I caught a glimpse of his phone screen—he was scrolling through photos of Elvie. My stomach twisted.

“Are you serious?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

Osmond looked up, startled. “What?”

“Elvie?” I gestured at his phone. “You’re looking at her pictures again?”

“She’s just a friend,” he said, too quickly. “And don’t snoop on my phone. That’s crossing a line, Camille.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “A line? Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he snapped, his tone defensive. “She’s part of the pack. It’s normal to talk to packmates. Stop making everything into a big deal.”

“Right,” I muttered, turning to the kitchen before I said something I’d regret.

I started unpacking the groceries, trying to focus on the mundane task. Then his voice broke the silence.

“Your parents left?”

I froze for a second, then went back to unpacking. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me they were leaving today?”

“I did,” I spin around to glare at him. “I told you they were leaving at two. But you were busy. Again!”

He flinched but quickly brushed it off. “I have responsibilities, Camille. Beta work doesn’t wait for anyone.”

“And neither does life,” I shot back.

His jaw tightened. “Why are you making this such a big deal? I can’t just drop everything because your parents were visiting. You know what my role means.”

“Do I?” I said, my voice rising. “Because it seems like being a Beta means you have time for everyone else but me.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his tone icy.

“Fair?” I threw the dish towel onto the counter. “You couldn’t even spare five minutes to see my mom, Osmond. She’s sick. She might not—” I cut myself off, choking on the words.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, frowning.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell him. Not when he didn’t even seem to care. “Forget it,” I muttered.

As I turned back to the groceries, his phone buzzed on the counter. The name lit up the screen: Elvie

Osmond grabbed it quickly, but I saw the message: “Missed you today. Let’s talk soon?”

That's where my eyes drop to his watch on the table. My brows furrowed on the initials.

ET&OD.

Wow.

Elvie Thompson. Osmond Decker.

Their initials shimmered under the soft light of our living room, engraved on the leather strap of the gift I’d bought for Osmond—a customized smartwatch. It was supposed to be a surprise. Turns out, I was the one surprised.

I’d paid extra to have our initials—OD and CD—intertwined. I’d triple-checked the order form to make sure it was perfect. So why, of all things, were HER initials on it?

When I showed it to Osmond, he barely looked up from his phone. “It’s just a mistake, Camille,” he said, shrugging. “The store probably screwed up. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” I repeated, staring at him. “Osmond, they engraved *her initials.* How does that even happen?”

He sighed like I was being difficult, finally setting his phone down. “I don’t know. Maybe someone else’s order got mixed up with ours. I’ll deal with it.”

“When?” I pressed, folding my arms. “Because this isn’t just some random mix-up. You need to—”

“Camille, you’re making this into a thing,” he said, cutting me off as he stood up. “It’s a watch. Just drop it, okay?”

Before I could respond, he reached over and snatched the watch out of my hand. “You’re just going to overthink this,” he muttered.

“Osmond—”

He grabbed his coat from the chair, brushing past me. “I’m heading out. Got patrols tonight. Don’t wait up.”

The door clicked shut before I could say anything else. I stood there holding the watch, my stomach in knots. A mistake. That’s all he said it was. But it didn’t feel like one.

As soon as I heard his car pull away, I grabbed my phone and dialed the shop’s number.

“Thank you for calling Elite Engravings,” a cheery voice answered. “How can I assist you today?”

“Hi, I ordered a customized smartwatch from you recently, but there’s been a mistake with the engraving. It has the wrong initials.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that! Let me look into it for you. Can I have your order number?”

I rattled it off, pacing the room.

“Hmm,” the woman said after a few seconds. “According to our records, the initials were updated per the customer’s request before production.”

My heart dropped. “Updated? What?”

“Actually, I can pull the security footage if you’d like confirmation.”

I swallowed hard. “Please do. And send it to my email.”

A few minutes later, the video arrived. With shaky hands, I opened it.

There they were—Osmond and Elvie, standing at the counter, laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world. Elvie was the one who spoke to the clerk, pointing at the screen to show the initials she wanted. Osmond stood beside her, his hand casually on her lower back.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut. My gift—the watch I’d spent weeks planning—had been thrown away. Osmond didn’t care. He’d let Elvie replace it like it was nothing.

I sank onto the couch, the room spinning around me. It wasn’t just a mistake. It was a choice.

***

The next morning, I decided to focus on something else. It was supposed to be a big day—my bridal fitting. Osmond had promised to come, but I already knew he wouldn’t.

As I stepped outside, a familiar black SUV pulled up in front of the house. Osmond rolled down the window, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“What’s with the makeup?” he asked, his tone flat. “You don’t usually wear that much.”

I clenched my fists, forcing a smile. “I’m going to the bridal shop.”

“Good,” he said, motioning to the passenger seat. “Get in. I’ll take you.”

Reluctantly, I opened the door—and froze. Sitting in the passenger seat, looking far too comfortable, was Elvie.

“Hey, Camille!” she said brightly, flashing a cheerful smile. “Osmond invited me along. Hope you don’t mind!”

“Why are you here?” I asked, my voice tight.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said with a breezy laugh. “I’m just here to help. You know how clueless Osmond can be about these things. Someone’s gotta make sure he doesn’t ruin your big day!”

I turned to Osmond, searching for an explanation. He just shrugged. “Elvie knows more about this stuff than I do. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to have her tag along.”

My jaw clenched, but I climbed into the back seat anyway. My hands trembled as I buckled my seatbelt, the tension in the car so thick it was suffocating.

Elvie and Osmond chatted like old friends, laughing and joking like I wasn’t even there.

“Oh, this song,” Elvie groaned when a familiar tune came on the radio. “Ugh, next it. This one’s so ugly.”

Osmond reached for the controls, but I stopped him. “That’s my favorite song.”

Elvie turned around, her face full of fake pity. “Really? It’s so… old-fashioned. Don’t you think, Osmond?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s not exactly trendy.”

My chest tightened. Just months ago, he told me this song reminded him of us. Now, it was just something else for them to mock.

Elvie changed the station to a loud pop song that made my head throb. “Much better, right?” she said, smiling.

I looked at Osmond through the rearview mirror, hoping for some acknowledgment of how I felt. But his face gave nothing away.

Derick frowned, clearly annoyed. “What’s your fucking deal? You’re mad over a song again?”

Elvie pulled a mock-pity face, her lips curling into a pout. “Osmond, that’s so harsh. Girls’ hearts are fragile, you know. Even small comments can sting. Be nicer to Camille.”

“You’re a girl, too, and you don’t get upset so easily,” Osmond shot back with a smirk. “So what’s the big deal? Tsk.”

Elvie stifled a laugh, her eyes glinting as they flicked toward me. She was loving this—her little win over me, and she wasn’t even trying to hide it.

I clenched my jaw but kept quiet. Let her have this, I thought. This wedding—or mating ceremony, whatever—wasn’t for me. It was to honor my mother’s dying wish to see me happy and settled. As for Osmond and whoever he wanted to parade around? I didn’t have the energy to care anymore.

When we got to the boutique, it was nearly empty. A sales assistant greeted us warmly, her eyes lighting up as she approached. But instead of looking at me, the bride-to-be, her attention went straight to Osmond and Elvie.

“What kind of gown are you looking for, miss?” she asked Elvie, her voice full of enthusiasm.

Elvie burst out laughing. “Oh, no, I’m not the bride!” she said, casually pointing at me. “She is.”

The assistant blinked, her face turning red as she turned to me, clearly thrown off by the dynamic. Osmond shifted uncomfortably, but before he could say anything, Elvie grabbed his arm and led him toward the seating area.

“I’ll go take a look,” I said, keeping my tone even as I walked away toward the rows of dresses.

Osmond glanced at me briefly but didn’t say a word, letting Elvie pull him toward the plush couches in the middle of the boutique.

I didn’t waste time. I grabbed the first simple ivory gown I saw, barely glancing at the other options. The sales assistant hesitated, probably confused by my lack of enthusiasm, but I didn’t care. As she led me to the fitting room, I could hear Elvie and Osmond’s laughter echoing through the boutique.

Inside the small fitting room, I stared at my reflection, fighting back the ache building in my chest. Six years. Osmond and I had been together for six years! We used to walk past this boutique, and he’d tease me about how amazing I’d look in a wedding dress someday. He even joked once that seeing me in one might make him cry.

But now, as I stepped out of the fitting room wearing the gown, his reaction was nothing like I’d imagined.

“That’s… kind of plain, isn’t it?” Osmond tilts his head. “You’re gonna be the Luna. Don’t you want something more dramatic?”

I forced a smile, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I… I like simple.”

Before I could say more, the curtain next to me opened, and Elvie stepped out. She was wearing a fitted, off-the-shoulder gown that shimmered with every move she made.

“Oh my Moon Goddess!” she twirls slowly in front of the mirror. “This dress is EVERYTHING!”

Osmond’s jaw actually dropped. His eyes traveled over her, and for a moment, it was like he’d forgotten where he was—or who he was with.

Elvie smirked, catching his reaction. “What’s wrong, Osmond? Did I surprise you? Be honest—who looks better in their dress, me or Camille?”

He blinked, dragging his gaze back to me awkwardly. “You look… nice,” he said, almost like an afterthought.

Elvie laughed, playfully nudging his arm. “Wrong answer! You’re supposed to say Camille, you dummy!”

Osmond chuckled, glancing at me with a weak attempt at guilt. But the damage was already done. I turned back to the fitting room without saying a word, pulling out my phone to snap a quick picture of the dress for my parents.

By the time I came back out, dressed in my own clothes again, Osmond was standing with Elvie in front of the mirrors. She’d talked him into trying on a suit—a sleek, perfectly tailored one that made him look better than I’d ever seen him.

They were laughing, snapping selfies together. Osmond, who always complained about dressing up, who never once wore anything I picked out for him, was now happily posing for Elvie like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The knot in my chest tightened. six years of boundaries, rules, and excuses—none of which seemed to apply when it came to her.

I grabbed my purse and headed for the door, not bothering to say goodbye.

“Camille,” Osmond called after me, his voice tinged with annoyance. “We don’t have all day for dress shopping. If you don’t like this place, we can go somewhere else.”

I stopped and turned back briefly. “This place is fine,” I said quietly. “I’ll take the dress I tried on.”

He frowned. “You sure? You didn’t even look at the others.”

“I’m sure,” I said firmly.

The truth was, it didn’t matter. We wouldn’t be having a real wedding, anyway. Why waste anymore time?