Aria’s POV
The eting room was small. Sterile. Four chairs arranged around a round table. A fake plant in the corner. A clock on the wall that ticked too loudly.
We arrived thirty minutes early.
I couldn’t help it. The anxiety was eating alive. Every minute that passed without resolution felt like torture.
Lina sat in the chair next to . Her legs dangled above the floor, too short to reach. She swung them back and forth. Back and forth. A nervous rhythm that matched my heartbeat.
"Mommy?"
"Yes, baby?"
"Are we in trouble?"
The question broke my heart.
"No, sweetheart." I reached over. Took her small hand in mine. "We’re not in trouble. You’re not in trouble. You didn’t do anything wrong."
She looked up at . Those black-gold eyes swimming with uncertainty.
"Then why do we have to be here?"
"Because those girls said an things to you." I squeezed her fingers gently. "And when soone does sothing wrong, they need to apologize. That’s how the world works."
"But what if they don’t want to?"
"Then their parents will make them." I tried to sound confident. Tried to believe my own words. "That’s what good parents do. They teach their children to take responsibility."
Lina considered this. Her little forehead scrunched up the way it always did when she was thinking hard.
"What if their parents are an too?"
"Then we’ll figure it out together." I pulled her closer. Kissed the top of her head. "No matter what happens, Mommy is here. I won’t let anyone hurt you again."
She nodded slowly. Not entirely convinced. But willing to trust .
---
The first fifteen minutes passed slowly.
I watched the clock. Listened to it tick. Counted the seconds between each movent of the hand.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Lina fidgeted beside . She’d already rearranged the pens on the table three tis. Examined every corner of the room. Asked seventeen questions about the fake plant.
The clock hit the eting ti. 10:00 AM exactly.
No one ca.
I took a deep breath. Told myself to be patient. People were late sotis. Traffic happened. Schedules conflicted.
Five more minutes.
Then ten.
Then twenty.
The room felt smaller with each passing mont. The air thicker. The silence heavier.
Lina’s fidgeting got worse.
"Mommy, I’m bored."
"I know, sweetheart."
---
Forty-five minutes late.
The clock mocked from the wall. Each tick felt like a personal insult.
I’d checked my phone six tis. No ssages. No calls. No explanation for why we were still sitting here alone.
Lina had given up on fidgeting. Now she just slumped in her chair. Head resting against my arm. Eyes half-closed.
"Are you tired, baby?"
"No." A yawn contradicted her imdiately. "Maybe."
"You can close your eyes for a bit. I’ll wake you when they get here."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She snuggled closer. Within minutes, her breathing evened out. Her small body relaxed against mine.
I looked down at her sleeping face.
Three years old. That’s all she was. Three years old and already learning that the world could be cruel. That people could hurt you for things you couldn’t control. That sotis, even when you did nothing wrong, you still ended up waiting in empty rooms for apologies that might never co.
My chest tightened.
This wasn’t fair.
None of this was fair.
She didn’t ask to be born without a wolf’s scent. Didn’t ask to be different. Didn’t ask for any of the complications that ca with being my daughter.
She just wanted to go to school. Make friends. Be a normal kid.
I shifted carefully. Tried not to wake Lina. Pulled out my phone.
Still no ssages.
I found the teacher’s number. Started composing a text.
*Hi, this is Aria Moon. We’ve been waiting for over an hour. The other parents haven’t arrived. Could you please contact them and—*
"Mommy?"
I looked down. Lina was awake again. Rubbing her eyes.
"Hey, baby. How do you feel?"
"Are they here yet?"
"Not yet."
Her face fell. That sa devastated expression from this morning.
"They’re not coming, are they?"
"They’re coming." I tried to sound sure. "They’re just very, very late."
"Maybe they don’t think they did anything wrong."
People who raised children to say things like "human stink" probably didn’t think there was anything to apologize for. Probably thought their kids were just being honest. Probably believed that wolves without proper scents really were lesser. Dirtier. Wrong.
I knew that mindset. Had lived with it my entire life.
And I’d been stupid enough to think a eting would fix it. I sat up. Grabbed my phone. "I’m calling the teacher."
"What are you going to say?"
"That we’ve been waiting long enough." My fingers moved across the screen. "That if they can’t bother to show up, we’re leaving."
I found the teacher’s number. Hit call.
It rang once.
Twice.
Three tis.
"Hello, this is—"
Click. Click. Click.
The sound cut through the room. Sharp. Distinct.
High heels on marble.
I turned.
The door to the eting room was still closed. But through the small window, I could see movent in the hallway.
A figure approaching.
No. Two figures.
One tall. One small.
Click. Click. Click.
The footsteps got louder. Closer.
I lowered my phone. Watched the door.
It swung open.
A woman walked in.
She was... a lot.
Blonde hair cascading over her shoulders in perfect waves. A dress that probably cost more than my monthly salary—bright red, tight, showing off every curve. Jewelry glittering at her ears, her neck, her wrists. Perfu so strong it hit from across the room. Designer sunglasses perched on her face despite being indoors.
She was chewing gum. Loudly. Obnoxiously.
In her other hand, she held the fingers of a small blonde girl. One of the girls from this morning. The taller one. The leader.
The woman walked like she owned the place. Slow. Deliberate. Each click of her heels a statent.
She stopped in front of the table. Looked around the room like she was assessing a property she might deign to purchase.
Then she reached up.
Pulled off her sunglasses.
And I saw her face.
Recognition slamd into like a freight train.
Those green eyes. That perfect bone structure. That cruel smile I’d seen a thousand tis in my nightmares.
"Rebecca??"
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