Alpha Begged Me to Stay

I always believe that my bond with my fated mate was a carefully curated illusion of perfection, a fragile facade that masked the deep cracks of betrayal and heartache lurking within our marital home.

To outsiders, Andros and Celestine were the epitome of strength and unity—Andros, with his commanding presence and leadership skills, second only to the Alpha himself, and Celes, with her gentle demeanor and inherent kindness. Yet, behind closed doors, their reality was a stark contrast to the picture-perfect image they projected.

The whispers of discontent, the shadows of secrets, and the echoes of unspoken pain reverberated through the walls of their seemingly perfect life, threatening to shatter the carefully constructed illusion at any moment.

And it did.

Celes had become accustomed to the weight of the relentless emotional manipulation from Andros' family. Their wealth and heritage stood in stark contrast to her humble origins. They never missed an opportunity to remind her of her lower status, making her feel unworthy of her position beside the Beta. Andros' younger sister, Alesandrina, was the only member who showed her kindness, a rare thing because she hated Celes at first. She particularly became fond of her brother's mate after she treated her wounds during a pack emergency, a moment that marked the beginning of their unlikely friendship.

Sure, Celes could tolerate the harshness of Andros' family. But what she couldn't bear was the broken marriage, a bond that had fallen apart before it even began.

How could she fight for someone who had given her every reason to give up?

The emotional manipulation from his family was hard enough, but the real pain came from knowing that her marriage was beyond saving. Despite trying to hold on, she couldn't ignore the truth: you can't fight for someone who never hold on for you in the first place.

"Ugh!"

Celes woke up with a start, her heart pounding in the quiet room, her eyes wide. The late pre-dusk glow filtered through the curtains, casting an orange tinge on the walls. As her mind slowly cleared from the fog of sleep, the memories came rushing back, hitting her like a tidal wave.

Gone. Again.

She could still feel the dull ache in her lower abdomen. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it was no use. The pain was too fresh, too raw.

Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach, resting on the place where life had once been. The emptiness was overwhelming, a void that seemed to swallow her whole.

As she lay there, staring at the ceiling, a single tear slipped down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away. Instead, she let it fall, the grief consuming her whole that she could not breathe.

For a moment, she allowed herself to feel the pain, to mourn the child she would never hold. But she knew she had to get up because the last thing she wanted was for Andros to see how miserable she was. So, with a deep, shuddering breath, she wiped her tears and slowly sat up.

Following her second miscarriage, Celes found herself under the care of Old Sage, the pack's stern and dedicated Head Healer. As she reclined on the bed, her body still weak and her heart heavier than ever, she overheard Sage discussing the growing tension within the pack due to the Alpha's disappearance. Rumors of strange disturbances in the forest had been circulating, and Sage had his suspicions about the real cause. The words seemed distant to Celes, like echoes in a vast, empty room.

This is for the better, she forced herself to believe.

When Andros arrived to collect her, he was noticeably distracted, checking his watch repeatedly.

"I received urgent news from the scouts," he said, the same excuse he used every time he wanted to leave. His eyes barely met hers as he spoke. "I need to leave."

Celes, now hardened by his repeated absences, gave him a detached nod, her emotions buried deep within her. He left quickly, slipping into his wolf form as he exited the healer’s quarters, his eyes briefly meeting Sage’s. There was an unspoken understanding between them, but Celes was too weary to ponder it.

After resting for an hour longer, Celes decided to head back to their home. She signed out in the official entry logbook at the reception, but her hand paused as she saw three familiar names written.

Szarina and Reign.

With Andros.

For a moment, she just stood there, unmoving. Her heart clenched, a mixture of anger and pain welling up inside her. But she clamped down on the emotions, wrote her name, and left without a word.

As she walked back to their residence, the moonlight cast long shadows across the forest path, and an eerie stillness hung in the air. The silence was almost oppressive, pressing down on her as she made her way through the familiar yet unsettling darkness.

That night, Celes prepared a simple meal for herself and drank the herbal remedy that Old Sage had prescribed. The herbs were meant to help her heal, but their bitter taste only reminded her of her isolation and pain.

When Andros finally returned home late in the evening, Celes was already asleep. She stirred awake when she felt a kiss on her lips. Opening her eyes slightly, she saw her husband's face inches from hers.

"I'm hungry," he said, his tone almost pleading. "There's no food."

Celes blinked, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.

"I didn't cook much," she mumbled, her voice flat.

"How was your stay at the Healer?" Andros asked, his voice laced with faux concern. "I'm sorry for leaving you alone."

Celes felt a surge of anger but quickly buried it.

"I'm still sleepy," she said, turning away from him. "You should take a bath."

Andros nodded, clearly sensing her coldness. "I'll join you soon," he said, trying to sound reassuring.

Celes didn't bother to reply. As she closed her eyes, she reprimanded herself for not asking him what he was doing with Szarina and her child at the Healer's when she was having a miscarriage, nor where he had been today. The foreign scent on him was unmistakable. She felt a deep sense of betrayal but was too exhausted to confront him. Instead, she let the darkness of sleep pull her under, a temporary escape from the pain that had become her constant companion.