My Mate is Another Woman's Fate

The door to my café opened with a soft chime, signaling that someone had entered. I caught a pleasant, familiar scent drifting through the air.

It can't be!

My legs tangled in surprise, and I almost dropped the tray of drinks and snacks. Gathering my inner courage, I raised my eyes-and saw HIM.

He stood in a tense pose, his fists clenched, staring at me from beneath furrowed brows. His eyes burned with a mixture of anger and something unspoken, something that sent a shiver down my spine.

I froze, rooted to the spot, unable to move. I just stood there, staring back.

Was he really looking for me? But why?

The she-wolf inside me howled, clawing at my insides at the sight of her mate. She wanted to throw herself at him, wrap her arms around his neck, and never let go.

Oh no, friend.

We tried that already, and it didn't work. He's human; he can't feel the connection as strongly as we do. To him, it was just an affair-something fleeting. As they say, "I'm not the first, and I won't be the last." So sit down and keep your head down, I tell her. I won't follow my instincts anymore.

And yet, deep in my heart, I couldn't help but hope. What if he was here for me? What if he found me because there was still a chance?

"Hello," I said, breaking the silence.

"Hello," he replied, his voice deep and steady. He said no more, just looked at me.

His gaze made me squirm.

"Would you like a menu?" I asked, trying to sound professional. I was still at work, after all.

For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw the corners of his lips twitch, as if suppressing a smile. But only for a moment.

"I'm not here for long," he said, his voice even more serious now. "I'm waiting for my wife. Can we have a word?"

My heart dropped.

Oh, wow. So he got married, after all.

Of course, he got married! He'd said he would. Why had I ever thought it might be different?

All my hopes crumbled like a house of cards. A lump formed in my throat, and tears threatened to choke me.

Don't cry. Don't cry!

"Ah... I see. You got married. Say what you want," I said quietly, lowering my eyes.

If we were alone, I wouldn't trust myself. I'd melt into a puddle at his feet, and I couldn't allow that to happen. In a crowd, I felt safer. Lifting my gaze, I looked at him again-and noticed something missing.

There was no ring on his hand.

He stood there, perfect as always, radiating confidence like a polished coin. Those green eyes of his, though, looked a little tired. Understandable! A young wife doesn't let you rest, does she?

He was dressed casually but stylishly, his outfit suiting him far too well. Black jeans tailored to perfection, a light T-shirt, and a biker jacket. He looked more like a rebel on the road than a corporate shark.

My traitorous body reacted instantly. Calm down, woman! I scolded myself. You're just admiring the aesthetics, nothing more.

I wished I could close my nose and block out his intoxicating scent.

A tall, muscular figure. Strong arms. Deep green eyes that seemed to see right through me. Tousled hair. And then, I saw it-the ring.

It wasn't on his hand. It hung from a chain around his neck.

What had I been expecting? Of course, he'd married her. Nicole. Beautiful, brilliant Nicole. They were a perfect match-both successful inventors in their circle. They probably adored each other.

And why wouldn't he love her? He'd never promised me anything. I was just a fleeting chapter in his life, wasn't I?

The bitterness clawed at my chest.

"Yes," he said, his jaw tightening. "You know I needed a wife urgently. So I got married."

He paused, and I watched as tension flickered across his flawless face.

"To the woman I love," he added. The words hit me like a slap.

Is he doing this on purpose?

Ouch. It hurt. It hurt more than I thought it would, knowing my mate had married someone else, someone he loved more deeply than me.

His mask had slipped, and he wasn't hiding anything now. Was this intentional? To hurt me?

And he succeeded. I feel like I'm losing my battle and moisture begins to appear before my eyes.

"I was looking for you."

How come my mate is now a married man?

Only fate knows. Maybe the circumstances are to blame, or maybe I just should've been more persistent. But it's hard when you're not the punchy type. I've never been the kind of person who steps over others to get what I want.

I'm a werewolf, despite both of my parents being human. My maternal grandfather was a werewolf too. On my father's side, both grandparents were human.

There are many legends about how werewolves came to be. From a scientific perspective, a specific gene was discovered relatively recently-one that a small percentage of the population carries. Those who have it are werewolves. But sometimes the gene lies dormant and never manifests. These individuals are considered mostly human, though technically they're latent werewolves.

A latent werewolf can go their whole life without ever realizing it-unless they go through their first transformation or take a special test, which happens to be quite expensive.

The first transformation usually happens around the age of 18 or 19-very rarely later-but always on a full moon.

No one can predict the exact full moon that will trigger it, so people have started calling the year between 18 and 19 "Year X."

My she-wolf awakened on the second full moon after my eighteenth birthday. Was I happy about it? Not at all. Even though I had my suspicions, I tried to push them away. In vain. I looked far too much like my werewolf grandfather.

Not the wrinkles or gray hair, of course. But in his youth-and even in old age-he was impressive. Tall, brown-haired, with piercing light gray eyes, strong, well-built, the life of the party. Every woman's dream.

Back in the day, women swooned over him, but he loved only one: my grandmother, Marie. She was his true mate.

Sadly, she passed away a few years ago. Grandpa remembers her with sorrow and endless tenderness-she was his spark, his heart. After her death, something in him faded. Even outwardly, he aged dramatically in just a few years. He seemed to burn out from within.

And that's saying something, considering he's a werewolf-with health, endurance, and vitality far beyond the human norm.

He loved her deeply. A mate is a powerful, lifelong bond. They fell for each other instantly.

But Marie's parents didn't approve of Grandpa as her fiancé. This was shortly after the Day of Tolerance, when the werewolf gene was officially discovered and recognized. It was a huge scientific breakthrough at the time.

Werewolves came out of hiding and declared their existence-and society accepted and legally recognized them.

Turns out, there were more of us than anyone thought; many had simply been hiding their heritage.

But legal recognition is one thing-real acceptance in everyday life is another. Many people feared, and still fear, werewolves-our strength, our abilities.

Marie's parents were among those people. Conservative and image-obsessed, they couldn't accept that their only daughter would marry a "dog" (as Grandpa said they called him). They feared judgment from their snobbish social circle.

Eventually, they disowned Marie, didn't even attend her wedding. Later, they sent a letter making it painfully clear-they no longer had a daughter.

Despite it all, my grandparents lived a long and happy life-defiant and proud.

Now Grandpa is 84. He's still strong for his age, though the spark in his eyes dimmed after Grandma Marie passed.

Being a werewolf comes with its perks: strength, excellent health, and rapid regeneration.

I, on the other hand, am calm and quiet. It's embarrassingly easy to throw me off. Sometimes I hate my own personality. I can't even speak up or defend myself when needed. Definitely not like Grandpa.

Being a werewolf has drawn some attention-thankfully, not too much-but it's not the kind I want.

I live in a place where there aren't many werewolves, and people here treat us... differently.

Calling it "racism" might sound too harsh, but it's not far off. People like me aren't exactly welcome, and they make sure I know it.

Although, there are places where werewolves are admired-even idolized.

We lived in our own house in a village about 40 minutes from the city, near a river.

There was a rotten old bridge across the river. On the far side, fields stretched for miles until the nature reserve forest began.

Among those fields, near the forest, was another small settlement-smaller than ours, but filled with beautiful mansions and farms.

That's where Grandpa lived.

Behind our house was a lovely orchard planted by my father, and nearby was a small garden where my mom grew vegetables.

We didn't need to grow food-my parents had stable, well-paying jobs-but Mom loved working the land. It was her outlet, her stress relief.

Some people turn to alcohol in hard times, others call up friends. My mom heads straight to her garden.

She says a heart-to-heart with a tomato bush does more for her than any group of friends ever could. A true introvert.

My first transformation happened at night, in my room. The day had been completely normal-nothing to suggest what was coming.

But that night, I woke up drenched in sweat, wracked with pain and burning up.

It started deep in my chest and spread outward in waves. It was pure agony-I couldn't make sense of anything.

My bones cracked loudly, my skin itched, stretched, and furred, and my muscles clenched in brutal spasms. It was hell. And I was terrified.

My arms and legs wouldn't respond to me. I felt like I wasn't fully in control of my own body... but I also felt HER.

My she-wolf. She had awakened and was making herself known, though she hadn't taken over completely.

We were both afraid. For both of us, this was the first time.

And yet... through it all, we felt a strange power. A bond. A connection we had never known before.

Because of my total lack of control and the overwhelming panic that gripped me, my room turned into pure chaos.

Shredded bedsheets, torn pajamas-my claws had ripped through everything. The mirror was smashed, things were strewn all over the place, and somehow I had even trampled my favorite ficus tree.

I don't even remember how I did it, but I broke down the door-my paws, my muzzle-and bolted outside, running blindly, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn't know where I was going. I just needed to hide, to get away, to survive this... nightmare.

I was terrified-terrified of what I'd become, terrified of what I might do. My parents are human. And my little sister... she's human too. At least, for now.

There are stories-horrible stories-about first transformations going wrong. Werewolves injuring themselves, losing control, hurting loved ones. And sure, we heal fast, almost instantly-but humans don't. If I ever hurt my family... I wouldn't survive the guilt. I couldn't live with myself.

So I ran. I ran from the house, across the creaky old bridge by the river, through the endless fields, until the shadows of the forest wrapped around me like a cloak.

Our forest-dense, wild, untouched. People never ventured far into it. They were too afraid. Good. That meant I could disappear for a while.

I dove deep into the forest, branches slapping my face, underbrush clawing at my legs.

Eventually, I stumbled into a clearing bathed in silver moonlight, my chest heaving, lungs burning. I dropped to the ground, trying to catch my breath.

It was quiet. Peaceful. Too peaceful.

But only for a moment.

Then came the noise-loud, intense, and all around me. The rustling of leaves became a roar. The creak of trees echoed like thunder.

Even the stream nearby-its gentle babbling now sounded like a waterfall crashing through my skull.

Every sound in the forest felt like it had been turned up to full volume.

It was deafening. Overwhelming. I clutched my ears with my paws, crouched low, trembling, heart slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird.

And then... a voice.

Soft. Gentle. Feminine. But with a power that stilled everything inside me.

"Hey, breathe. Focus on your breathing. Don't panic. Let the sounds pass through you. Listen only to your breath."

I listened.

My breath was sharp, ragged, but I held onto it like a lifeline.

Inhale. Exhale. Once.

Inhale. Exhale. Twice.

By the time I reached ten, the world had quieted, as if someone had turned the volume down.

And just like that... I could think again.

I opened my eyes, removed my paws from my ears, and looked up.

In the heart of the clearing stood a red she-wolf, watching me with piercing blue eyes. The moonlight kissed her fur, making it shimmer like gold with every breeze.

She looked... magical. Untouchable.

"So beautiful," I thought.

And then-she answered.

"Oh, thank you! You're not so bad yourself," she said, and laughed-an actual laugh, bright and playful.

It hit me then. Telepathy. Grandpa had told me about it-how werewolves could speak to each other in wolf form, mind to mind.

I'd always brushed it off. Until now.

She stepped closer, slowly, carefully. Something about her felt familiar, especially her eyes-so blue, like the sky after a storm.

"Your first time?" she asked.

I nodded, feeling clumsy and awkward.

"Thought so. I'm Elizabeth, or Eli. What's your name?"

"Dana."

"Nice to meet you, Dana. Deep breaths. No more panicking. Focus on a single sound and ground yourself."

I obeyed. I found the stream again-not crashing, just flowing. Then the whisper of the leaves. Far in the distance-dogs barking from the village. Then-a faint crackle of twigs nearby.

Eli's ears twitched.

"Listen," she said.

I did.

Tiny footsteps. A quick heartbeat. A soft, panicked breath.

Something small was running through the underbrush, fleeing.

"A hedgehog?" I blinked. "Where's he rushing off to?"

"You're adorable," Eli chuckled. "Right now, we're the scariest things in this forest. He knows it. Want to blow your mind?"

I nodded.

"Then listen... with your nose."

I inhaled deeply-and the world exploded again. But this time, in scent.

I smelled everything. Wet earth. Fresh water. Wildflowers. Pine needles. The wind. Animals.

And-wait. A scent I knew. Warm. Safe. Familiar. Grandpa.

I turned, leapt onto a rock, and there he was-emerging from the trees, his massive dark-gray wolf form unmistakable.

"There you are, pup!" he said with relief. "Your parents are going crazy. How are you feeling?"

He stopped beside us, tail flicking, then gave Eli a knowing nod.

"I see you've met Elizabeth."

"I'm okay now," I said quietly, shame washing over me.

"I just... didn't want to hurt anyone. I feel strange. Like I'm not me anymore. Like I'm someone else. It's scary."

"That's normal, sweetheart. You'll learn. You'll grow into your wolf. I remember my first shift-I ended up in the chicken coop. Scared the feathers off them. Literally. Smashed half of it. My mother was furious."

He laughed-soft, nostalgic.

"It's been almost a hundred years since then. You scared me good tonight. Had to sniff half the valley to find you. Haven't done that in decades. It felt... kinda nice, actually. Brought back memories."

Then, with a wolfish grin:

"Anyway, time to head home. My place is closer, and your parents are waiting. But let's shift back later-I don't want you traumatized by the sight of your grandfather's glorious naked butt."

He barked a laugh and trotted ahead. Eli and I exchanged a look-and followed without hesitation. Eli lived just two streets from Grandpa's farm.

As we arrived, I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror. Staring back at me was a sleek, black she-wolf with stormy gray eyes.

Just like Grandpa's. Genes don't lie.

Surprisingly, shifting back into my human form wasn't as painful.

The aches lingered, like a full-body flu. But it was bearable.

A hot bath-Eli's suggestion-worked wonders.

And finally, as the water soothed my aching muscles, I felt something I hadn't felt since the shift began...

Peace.