There’s about a hundred unspoken words flitting between us, and my chest squeezes painfully, almost like I’m getting sick again. I get choked up, unsure how to respond, or even if I should. All I manage the feeblest but most heartfelt thank you I have ever uttered.
“Your gratitude is unnecessary. But if you need something to drive you, use that. What you do during your time at Unity, Simona, may just set you up for a lifetime when you leave here.”
Omega Mother Beatrice walks out, leaving me completely stunned and as equally overwhelmed. I never considered my time at Unity would come with as much freedom and opportunity. It seems, however, to be the case. Of course I’m going to run with it.
There is no hesitation or second-guessing when I retreat into a bubble. Instead, I settle back in bed with a lightness that keeps a constant smile on my face as I peruse the course options. I read long past the nursing staff’s final rounds, but they don’t rush me. In fact, one even delivers a pot of sweetened tea and a plate of sandwiches.
I spend hours selecting courses—ones I want to take, chosen for myself, without the influence or expectations of anyone back home. Some, I admit, are practical—things I know I’ll need eventually, like Cooking and Cleaning for Alphas. But more and more, I choose subjects simply because they excite me. Creative writing, classical literature and arts, photography, physical education, scrapbooking, graphic design—even chemistry.
It’s late when I decide to save the rest—choosing electives, committees and volunteer programs—for the morning. With my academic side satisfied, I guess I lean a little further into the personal freedom I have now. Back home, I always had to worry—who might be watching. But here? I can do and be whoever I want. A thrill buzzes through me when I set up a new account with the username SinDaBella. I scroll through Pinterest, searching under ‘dark aesthetics’ until I find the perfect photo. I manipulate it until it’s even darker and sexier. And instead of questioning what I’m doing, I press activate.
I follow Koded as well as a few other artists I like. Their socials are always active no matter the time of day because of their fan base. As usual, there’s another post speculating Koded’s identity, but his most recent and most active postisthe one about him getting more serious in their quest to find his ‘Cinderella’. Ryder is even making a game of it, getting his fans involved and offering a prize.
I scroll through the comments until my eyelids start to drop. An alert pings, and it’s like someone is holding a live wire against my chest. My heart gallops erratically. Not only did he notice, but he also followed me back.
In the shockwaves, my phone flings out of my hand like it’s on fire. Slight overreaction, but the fire coursing through my veins at his attention doesn’t let up.
A gentle welling of endorphins follows, cutting through the initial shock, making me giggle softly and guiding me back to a calmer place. In that space I give myself permission to embrace every strange emotion as they happen which feels like another kind of liberation.
I settle into the corner of the room, and with the hugest smile on my face, I look at the notification. I keep staring at it, nearly missing the flashing notice of a DM request with ‘Koded.R.Genuine’.
It might be odd to others that I don’t open the notification. The truth is enough good things have happened today. I want to leave the best day I’ve had in a long time where it is—untouched.
Climbing into bed after my strange outburst, there’s a sizable smile pulling on my lips and a lightness filling my heart. Said heart is beating too fast but each deep inhale guides it back to normal. Nothing changes my serenity. The world keeps turning and I’m excited to be a part of it.
I sleep hard and fast, and when my eyes reopen, I’m still on my side, staring at the same view as last night. Not only do I feel refreshed, but I also think I’m well enough to finally go to my room. The nursing staff seem to agree
“Simona, please, you do not need to strip your own bed.” The sweet nurse that I met first when I arrived rolls her eyesand smiles at me when she comes to get me. “Seriously, you’re going to have Omega Mother Beatrice drilling me as to why I let a patient clean up after themselves. Let me do the proper discharge, and I’ll take you to your room.”
Within thirty minutes, I’m trailing behind her in clothes I didn’t choose, lugging suitcases I don’t want to unpack—simply because they packed them. There’s a lot of turmoil in knowing my entire wardrobe has been ‘approved,’ but every minute at Unity reminds me of something important. Brody might control what I wear, but while I’m a student here, he doesn’t have the power he thinks he does. And who wouldn’t run with that?
In so many ways I feel like a chameleon. This skin, no matter how daunting or intimidating, also feels more like the version of me I’ve been living all along.
“Here you are. I know Heidi Holmes has arrived. I can’t say if you’ve beaten her to choosing rooms,” the lovely nurse says.
I drop my gaze from her steely stare. She’s not challenging me like an Alpha would, but there’s an unspoken suggestion in her words. I accept the toggle to the unit she hands me, along with a printout of Unity house rules—something I need to sign and return to the front office. With that, she leaves.
Moving my bags out of the small hallway, I quickly see I’m the first to arrive. The unit is bigger than I thought, and it’s set up so we’re self-sufficient in the sense we have a kitchen as well as a small laundry area. I guess I naturally assumed we’d be eating in dining rooms with everyone, and I know that’s an option, but having the facilities in our room means we can bypass socialising. I guess though the first thing is I hope my roommates and I get along.
The pretty view from the sliding doors distracts me from the task of choosing a room. Part of me immediately wants tospin the furniture to face the view, but that’s me being overly presumptuous that my roommates will like it as much as I do. Each of the bedrooms has its own en-suite bathroom and a walk-in closet, and after inspecting each of them, I do the unthinkable and actually choose the one I want, even going as far as moving my bags inside it.
I’m part way through unpacking when I hear the door open. Before the butterflies in my stomach can rob me of my confidence, I walk out of my room and nearly straight into a tall, raven-haired woman. Her beauty is impossible to ignore, and her confidence is as flawless as the obvious wealth she’s grown up in.
“Hey,” I offer, trying to raise my voice louder than a whisper, but I’m a little in awe.
“Holy crap! You scared the living hell out of me.” She clutches her chest, and her eyes go wide.
I instantly feel awful. This is not the first impression I wanted to make.
But she laughs it off while blushing candy pink in her obvious embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. I’m not great at meeting new people. Let’s do a retake.” She makes a series of quick exhales through her perfectly made-up lips before taking a step towards me. “Hi, I’m Heidi Holmes.”
If I could adequately describe that first meeting with Heidi, it would be overflowing with overly emotional words—all centred around that undeniable feeling of meeting someone who you just know will be in your life forever. A rush of homecoming races up my arm as we shake hands.
I roll my shoulders and borrow a little of her confidence, “I’m Simona Vanderling. It is so good to meet you. I hope you don’t mind. I already chose this room.”
We share an awkward handshake, both laughing at how unnatural it feels—because if I had to guess, neither of us are handshake people. And considering our burgeoning friendshipwill never be considered normal, standard greetings feel even stranger. Still, we take a step back from each other.
Heidi unashamedly checks me out from head to toe. Once done, her eyes settle back on my face. “So, you’re fucking stunning, aren’t you? Clearly someone is trying to hide the fact you are gorgeous from the world. There’s no way you chose that dress. It’s the completely wrong tone for your skin type, which means an insecure boyfriend, or controlling parents are trying to keep you a secret.”
