Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English
Synopsis
My mate, Ethan, ran off to a human woman's house at two in the morning to fix her plumbing.
That human, Vivian, even went out of her way to post about it on Instagram.
The photo showed a man's hand gripping a pipe wrench, his sleeve rolled up to reveal a lean, muscular forearm.
Curving along the inside of his forearm was a wolf-head tattoo—a design I had drawn for him with my own hands.
Her caption was dripping with hidden meaning: *[So glad you’re here. Tommy’s fever finally broke, and watching you fix the pipes from behind is just the hottest thing.]*
A sudden, sharp pain stabbed through my chest.
I clutched my heart, my breath turning ragged.
As if sensing my agony, the pup in my belly kicked hard.
Immediately after, violent contractions rippled across my abdomen.
No, this was wrong. It shouldn’t be happening yet. My due date was still three days away.
Warm fluid gushed out all at once, soaking through the bedsheets.
Panic seized me. My hands shook violently as I dialed Ethan’s number.
First call: declined.
Second call: declined again.
Desperate, I redialed a third time.
Finally, it connected.
There was no worried inquiry on the other end, just a suppressed, angry growl.
“Mia, are you ever going to quit? Didn’t I tell you where I was going? Vivian is a single human mother struggling with a sick kid. Her place flooded in the middle of the night. If I didn't come help, was I supposed to just let them drown?”
The agonizing cramps made it impossible to breathe. I pleaded through tears, “Ethan, my water broke... It hurts so bad. Where are you? Can you please come back and take me to the clinic...”
Silence hung on the line for a second.
Then Vivian’s panicked voice cut through: “Ethan, Tommy threw up again! Is he having a seizure? Come quick!”
Any slight hesitation Ethan had vanished into thin air.
His tone turned bitterly impatient. “Did you see her Instagram post and get jealous? Mia, when did you become so manipulative? Lying about your water breaking just to trick me into coming home? You're not due for three days. Stay home and stop throwing tantrums!”
*Beep—*
He hung up cold.
When I called back, his phone was switched off.
Thunder roared outside. Lightning ripped across the night sky, illuminating my ghost-white face.
Despair swept over me like a tidal wave. The ache from the mate bond throbbed, reminding me of the cruel reality I didn’t want to face: he was right by her side. And I was left alone, enduring an early labor triggered by his betrayal.
Our house sat in an older neighborhood on the south edge of the pack territory, only two blocks from Vivian’s rented apartment in the human district. Ethan had deliberately picked this location so he could be at her beck and call. Biting my lip until it bled, I grabbed my hospital bag. Leaning against the wall, I dragged myself forward step by agonizing step. Every movement felt like my body was tearing apart. Sweat and tears ran into my mouth, bitter and salty.
By the time I dragged myself outside, torrential rain was pouring down. Drenched to the bone, I stood in the storm for twenty whole minutes before a cab finally stopped. The driver took one look at me, blanched, and floored the gas to the pack's only healer clinic.
The clinic was brightly lit. The healer on duty was Aunt Sarah from our pack. The moment she saw me stumble in, soaked and deathly pale, her expression changed instantly.
“Mia! Are you... are you in labor? Where’s Ethan? Where the hell is Ethan?!”
She shouted for a gurney, her voice laced with panic.
I collapsed onto the bed, rainwater and amniotic fluid pooling beneath me. The clinic wasn’t large, and several waiting pack members rushed over—some ran to get other healers, while others brought warm towels.
“Where's your mate? You need your mate in the delivery room! The mate bond helps stabilize your wolf during labor, or things could go horribly wrong!” Aunt Sarah squeezed my hand, lowering her voice. “Where is he? I’ll send warriors to fetch him!”
I shook my head, my lips trembling too hard to speak.
Aunt Sarah froze, instantly understanding the silence. She didn’t press further. Gripping my hand tight, she turned to the nurses. “Prep the delivery room! Now!”Giving birth was like walking through the gates of hell.
Because so much amniotic fluid had leaked and my emotions were spiraling out of control, I dilated at an agonizingly slow pace. It was just me and two healers in the delivery room. Through the wall, I could hear another laboring mother screaming for her mate. Her mate's soothing voice rumbled in response, their mate bond weaving together to ease her pain and smooth out the delivery.
Meanwhile, I lay on that cold bed, utterly alone.
Wiping the sweat from my brow, Aunt Sarah whispered, “Mia, try calling Ethan again. For werewolves, having your mate there isn't just about presence. Your bond shares the physical burden. Without him here, your pain is magnified ten times over.”
Staring at the dim ceiling light, I shook my head.
I couldn't reach him anyway.
Right before they wheeled me in, I had seen Vivian’s second Instagram update:
*[Tommy finally fell asleep. Thank you to the best godfather in the world for staying up all night with us. With you here, we finally have someone to lean on.]*
The picture showed Ethan passed out by the bedside, his hand tightly clutching the boy's little fingers. Warm, touching, and intimate.
While my child was fighting for her life.
In that exact moment, the very last trace of love I had for Ethan shattered into dust, swallowed by the sheer agony racking my body.
“Push! The head is crowning!” Aunt Sarah urged.
I clamped my teeth down on the towel in my mouth, channeling every ounce of hatred into one final push.
Ten hours. After ten grueling hours of torture, a loud, clear cry pierced the room. My baby girl was born.
Aunt Sarah held the wrinkled little bundle up for me to see, her eyes rimmed with red. “A beautiful little princess. Mia, you did it.”
I looked at her weakly, silent tears slipping down my cheeks.
Back in the recovery room, dull aches still radiated through my body. Without the soothing touch of a mate bond, postpartum healing was painfully slow.
My phone buzzed.
It was a text from Ethan: *[You awake? I just woke up. Tommy was having a rough night. Did you say your stomach hurt yesterday? Get some rest and stop being so dramatic. I'll bring you breakfast later.]*
Every word dripped with dismissive indifference. He hadn't even considered that my desperate cry for help the night before had been real.
I didn't bother replying. I tossed the phone aside.
Around noon, the door was shoved open.
Ethan hurried in, carrying a bag of cold sandwiches. When he saw me lying in a hospital gown with an infant sleeping in the bassinet beside me, he froze dead in his tracks. The irritation on his face melted into shock, instantly replaced by sheer panic.
“Mia... You... you actually gave birth?”
He rushed to the bedside, reaching for my hand, but I pulled away with disgust.
“Don’t touch me,” I rasped, my voice rough as sandpaper.
A flash of humiliation crossed his features, quickly turning into defensive anger. “Why didn’t you call me?! Having a baby is a huge deal, and you came to the clinic without saying a word? Do you have any idea how worried I was?!”
I let out a bitter, mocking laugh, wincing as it tugged at my stitches.
“Are you suffering from amnesia, Ethan? At two in the morning, I called you and told you my water broke. You told me to stop acting, and you hung up on me.”
Ethan froze, the memory seemingly rushing back. A moment later, his eyes darted away, his tone softening with guilty deflection. “I thought... I thought you were just jealous of Vivian and making things up. You know how it is—when someone cries wolf, how was I supposed to know it was real this time?”
“So in your eyes, I'm the kind of person who would joke about our child’s life just to score points in some petty jealousy contest?” I stared at him blankly, my eyes dead.Guilt creeping in, Ethan dropped the sandwich bag on the nightstand. “Fine, I was wrong, okay? I apologize. But Vivian had an emergency too. She’s just a human—”
“Is she more important, or was your unborn pup?”
Ethan scowled, lowering his voice into a sharp hiss. “Mia, can you stop being so aggressive? The baby was born healthy, wasn’t she? Vivian’s kid was having a real medical scare! We’re all pack neighbors here. Protecting the weak is basic wolf nature. What's wrong with helping out? Can’t you be a little more gracious?”
*Protecting the weak. Wolf nature.*
Looking at his self-righteous expression, this mate I had shared a bed with for three years suddenly seemed like a terrifying stranger.
Just then, his phone rang. A custom ringtone. Vivian.
Ethan instinctively glanced at me before slipping into the hallway to answer. Through the glass pane, I watched his face soften into an affectionate, almost indulgent smile as he nodded repeatedly.
Five minutes later, he stepped back inside, wearing an apologetic grimace.
“Mia, look... Vivian rushed out and forgot her house keys, and she needs to take Tommy back to the human hospital for a checkup. I need to run a spare key over to her. Aunt Sarah is here to look after you anyway, and your parents will be here this afternoon. I’ll be back in no time.”
Without waiting for my answer, he turned on his heel and walked out.
From beginning to end, he hadn’t looked at his newborn daughter once.
Ethan stayed away for three full days.
During those three days, my parents rushed over from the other side of the pack lands. My dad was a retired warrior, and my mom helped manage pack affairs—both proud, lifelong members of the Crimson Pack. Seeing my pale face and the empty chair beside me, Mom’s eyes welled with tears, and she turned away to weep. Dad paced furiously up and down the corridor; if I hadn't held him back, he would have tracked Ethan down and torn him apart.
Ethan's texts never stopped, though. One moment it was *[Vivian’s car broke down, just helping her fix it]*, the next it was *[The kid needs an IV drip, Vivian can’t manage alone]*. Every excuse sounded so noble, and every excuse drove another dagger into my heart.
My daughter didn't have an official name yet. Watching her sleeping face, I whispered a name to her: Emma. I only prayed she would live a peaceful life and never pick the wrong man like her mother did.
On the day of my discharge, Ethan finally showed up.
He pulled up in his car, with Vivian and Tommy sitting right in the front passenger seat. Ethan rolled down the window and waved. “Mia, over here! Vivian needed to bring Tommy for a follow-up anyway, so I gave them a lift so she wouldn't have to call a cab.”
Mom trembled with rage, raising a finger to curse him out, but I stopped her. Blank-faced, I held Emma close and opened the rear door.
“Dad, Mom, get in.”
The tension inside the car was suffocating.
Vivian turned around, wearing her signature fragile, innocent smile, though her eyes glinted with blatant mockery.
“Mia, I'm so sorry to trouble Ethan again. Tommy insisted on riding in Ethan's car, saying only his godfather's car makes him feel safe. You’re so generous, I’m sure you don’t mind, right?”
I looked her straight in the eye. “I mind.”
Vivian’s smile froze.
Ethan glared at me through the rearview mirror. “Mia, watch your mouth. Don't be so petty in front of your parents.”
“Petty?” I let out a dry chuckle. “Ethan, I just got discharged. My stitches aren’t even healed, yet you cram me and our newborn into the back while another woman and her kid ride shotgun. Who’s the petty one here?”
Ethan choked on his words, but before he could speak, Tommy screamed at the top of his lungs, “Godfather! This mean lady is bullying Mommy! Make her get out!”
With that, he hurled a plastic Transformer toy straight at my head. The hard plastic edge clipped my forehead, leaving a sharp sting and an instant red welt. Startled, Emma burst into tears.“Tommy!” Vivian scolded half-heartedly, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.
Instead of disciplining the brat, Ethan reached back to pat his head. “Good boy, Tommy, calm down. Godfather will take you to get burgers.”
Mom snapped. She slammed her hand against the back of the driver's seat. “Ethan! Are you even human?! Your flesh-and-blood daughter is screaming in terror, your mate was just assaulted, and you're offering to buy this brat burgers?!”
“Mom! Why do you have to be so harsh?” Ethan slammed on the brakes, his face dark. “Tommy is just a kid! What does he know?”
“If the kid doesn't know better, what's the adult's excuse?!” Dad roared.
The car descended into chaos.
I drew a deep breath and pushed the door open.
“Dad, Mom, let's go. We're taking a cab to your place.”
Panic flickered in Ethan’s eyes. “Mia, what kind of scene are you making now? Your parents are right here—do you want everyone laughing at us?”
Ignoring him, I stepped out with Emma, hailed a passing cab, and left without looking back. Behind us, Vivian’s fake, soothing voice and Ethan’s frustrated honking faded into the distance.
Looking out at the passing scenery, I made up my mind.
This mate bond was rotten to the core. Like an infected wound, it had to be carved out before it killed me.
For the next month of my postpartum recovery, I stayed at my parents' house. The house was blissfully quiet.
Whether out of spite or shame from facing my parents' cold glares, Ethan left early and returned late every day. I didn't need to guess where he was spending his time.
I didn't yell. I didn't cry. I quietly nursed my baby, quietly healed my body, and quietly rehearsed the rejection oath I would speak before the Moon Goddess.
The day my recovery month ended, Ethan came home uncharacteristically early. He carried a bouquet of flowers and announced he had booked a table at a high-end restaurant.
“Mia, I've neglected you this past month. Let’s go out for dinner tonight—think of it as a make-up birthday dinner, okay? I want to spend time with Emma, too.”
His tone was earnest, looking for all the world like a man trying to make amends.
Looking at the handsome face that now made my stomach turn, I initially wanted to refuse. But on second thought, having things settled in a public place might keep things cleaner. Besides, I needed an opportunity to look him in the eye and tell him I was rejecting him.
“Fine,” I agreed.
At seven that evening, we sat in a popular rooftop revolving restaurant downtown. Ethan had clearly made an effort, dressed in a sharp suit with his hair neatly styled.
Yet, less than ten minutes after we sat down, the familiar nightmare reappeared.
“What a coincidence, Ethan! Mia, you’re here too?”
Vivian stood beside our table holding Tommy’s hand, smiling brightly.
Ethan’s face stiffened for a fraction of a second before lighting up with delight. “Vivian? What are you guys doing here?”
“Tommy was begging for ice cream from this place, so I brought him. But there are no open tables...” Vivian bit her lower lip, staring at Ethan with wide, helpless eyes.
Ethan’s gaze instantly drifted to the empty seat beside me—the spot holding my diaper bag and Emma’s baby carrier. Before I could utter a word, Ethan stood up, tossed my bag aside, and shoved Emma’s carrier inward, crowding me out.
“Sit here! We can all eat together—it’ll be fun!”
The blood in my veins turned to ice. The so-called “date night,” the “birthday celebration”—it all meant nothing the second Vivian showed up.
The moment Tommy sat down, he began banging his fork against his plate, shouting loudly. Vivian chatted away with Ethan, paying her son no mind.
I watched the absurd scene unfold, my fingers drumming rhythmically on the tabletop. Tonight was the night.
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Watch & Promotions
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