Will a real pack ever fill this void?
Or am I too broken?
Too damaged?
Too much work?
The question sits there on the page, stark and vulnerable and more honest than I usually let myself be.
Because what if Kael was right? What if I am too much? Too needy, too emotional, too fundamentally flawed to ever be someone's first choice?
I take a sip of coffee, letting the warmth ground me. The sky is getting lighter now, soft gold spreading across the horizon, touching the edges of clouds and making them look like they're dipped in honey. Down on Maple Street, I can see the first lights flickering on in shop windows. The town is waking up.
And you know what?
Screw Kael. Screw his pack. Screw anyone who makes me feel like I'm too much or not enough or anything other than exactly who I'm supposed to be.
I'm Reverie Bell.
A talented Omega who rebuilds her life from scratch. Who makes people smile with her ridiculous content and her genuineenthusiasm for the small joys in life. Who shows up every single day and tries her best, even when her best looks like crying in the shower and eating cookie dough for dinner.
That's pretty damn brave, actually.
I close my journal and pull out my phone, opening my notes app to my daily affirmations.
Yes, I have daily affirmations. Yes, they help. No, I will not be taking criticism about this coping mechanism.
I read through them, speaking softly to myself in the quiet pre-dawn:
"Today is going to be a good day."
Because I'm Reverie, and I get to decide that.
"I am a talented Omega with so much to offer."
Take that, imposter syndrome.
"I will spread joy and happiness because being a good person in this world is free and can change a life."
This one always makes me emotional. In a good way. In a 'maybe I do have a purpose' way.
"I am not too much. I am not too little. I am exactly enough."
Still working on believing this one. But fake it till you make it, right?
"My past does not define my future."
Kael Draven is a footnote, not a chapter. And definitely not the whole damn book.
I set my phone down and wrap both hands around my coffee mug, savoring the warmth.
The sunrise is in full effect now—the sky painted in shades of rose gold and soft lavender, the kind of colors that make you believe in magic and second chances and the possibility that today really could be different.
Outside my balcony, Oakridge Hollow is coming to life.
I can smell bread baking from Cocoa & Coal down the street—Theo must be starting his morning bakes. The scent offresh sourdough and cinnamon mingles with the pine and wood smoke, creating this perfect small-town breakfast symphony.
A few early risers are already out walking their dogs, bundled in puffy coats and scarves, breath visible in the cold morning air. Mrs. Chen from the flower shop is putting out her display of winter plants—holly and evergreen wreaths already, because in Oakridge Hollow, Christmas season starts the day after Halloween and no one apologizes for it.
