1. Zara
The door closes softly behind me, but I don't move an inch, taking in the small flat and the alpha sitting, flicking through channels on the TV. He barely looks up as he hears me enter, but that's fine. I'm saying what I've come here to say, and nothing will stop me.
"Zara," Eddie starts, looking up briefly from his channel surfing, his tone already laced with that casual arrogance I've come to loathe. "What took you so fucking long? Where's the snacks?"
"Eddie, we need to talk."
He raises an eyebrow, turning his focus to me, leaning back against the cushions. "Sure, love. What do you have to say that's so important?"
I don't sit down. Standing by the door so I can leave as soon as I'm done, I give him a level stare. "This isn't working for me anymore. Our relationship has been more draining than fulfilling, and I can't continue pretending otherwise."
Eddie's face shifts, the half-serious expression is melting into something else—something less pleasant, as I expected and why I planned this meticulously so I could get away.
I keep going, my voice a firm thread in the quiet of the room. "I'm moving on from whatever this has become," I continue. "I need to do what's best for me, and that means ending things between us."
"You're breaking up with me?" he asks incredulously. "You're fucking overreacting as usual because I haven't paid you enough attention."
My jaw clenches tightly. His eyes are doing that thing where they try to look sincere and hurt, but I see right through it now. "Am I?" I keep my tone even.
"Absolutely," he says, rising, taking a step closer, trying to close the space between us. "We have something special, and you're trying to throw it all away because of a few rough patches?"
I shake my head slightly; a chuckle almost escapes me. It's funny how clear things become once you make up your mind. "A ‘few rough patches' is a bit of an understatement, don't you think?"
Eddie runs a hand through his hair – a nervous habit when he knows he's losing ground. "Look, I'll change, I promise. We can start fresh, pretend none of this ever happened."
The old me might have fallen for these lines, but she's not here anymore. "Pretending doesn't change reality, Eddie. It's time I face it."
He lets out a frustrated sigh, realising his usual tactics aren't working. "Zara, baby, come on. Don't do this."
The term of endearment is empty, like it belongs to another lifetime. "Bye, Eddie," I say as I open the door and step out.
"Where are you going?" He follows after me, his voice pitched with a hint of desperation.
I ignore him as I walk steadily out of the building, knowing even if he follows me, I'll still get away from him.
"Zara, get back here—" he yells. "You're being a complete bitch."
A few weeks ago, that would've hurt me, and I'd have done anything to make it up to him; sorry for speaking out, but I know now who he is and what he does. He is a gaslighting narcissist, and I need to get away from him.
I am getting away from him. I have it all planned and have left nothing to chance. I've closed the lease on my flat, sold all my furniture, and sold anything else that wouldn't fit into my tiny car.
I stride toward my white Fiat 500 parked along the curb, the cool morning air brushing against my skin. It's just a car, nothing special, but I smile as I unlock it and climb in. This little car is mine, all mine – a ticket to wherever I want to go, a companion on the road to freedom.
Settling into the driver's seat, the fabric of the upholstery feels familiar beneath me. My smile widens as I turn the ignition, the engine hums to life, steady and reliable. I've got a full tank, a playlist of my favourite tunes cued up, and the open road ahead.
"Zara!" Eddie snaps, marching towards me. "Where do you think you're going? No one else is going to want you if you walk away from me, you know!"
Ignoring him, I lock the door, and without a look back, I pull away from the curb and turn the corner to head towards the motorway and the new life that I'm about to carve out for myself.
"Here we go," I murmur.
The outskirts of the city buzz around me as I navigate through the streets one last time. The towering buildings, the endless sea of people—they're all part of a chapter I'm closing now. With each mile, the urban landscape of Greater London starts to fade, giving way to new beginnings.
The motorway stretches out in front of me, a ribbon of possibilities. There's something invigorating about driving with no one to answer to, no one waiting on the other end to tell me what to do or how to feel. Just me, the road, and the promise of a fresh start in the Lake District.
I forget all about Eddie, knowing he will try to ring me, but I've already blocked his number. There's room for my thoughts now, my dreams, my doubts. No one to tell me how I should feel or that what I'm feeling is wrong. Nope. All that is behind me, and now I have something new and exciting to look forward to.
There's a new job waiting for me, a chance to be someone important in a little one's life. A rejected alpha and his baby girl. It's a new one for me. Usually, it's the poor omega who ends up with a rejection and a single mum, but not this time. It's going to be a delicate time while I navigate this situation, but I'm definitely down for it. The fact that it is a six-hour drive away from my old life helps me to be excited about this prospect.
I think about that baby daughter, who is three months old and all coos and giggles. And then there's her daddy, the alpha without a mate anymore. I wonder how tough it's been to stand alone against the world, to care for a child without anyone by his side, to feel the pull of the rejection on the bond he shared with his omega. Is he broken? Angry? Gentle? And then I think of the utter bitch who left them. How dare she? What kind of mother does that to their baby? The only silver lining is that the baby won't ever know any different. She won't miss what she never had, but it will still be difficult, nonetheless.
My eyes scan ahead, catching the signs that count down the miles. The Lake District isn't just a dot on the map anymore; it'll be my new home.
Around halfway there, I pull into the Motorway Services, the car's fuel gauge nudging towards empty. I hop out, stretching my stiff legs from hours behind the wheel. The petrol pump clicks rhythmically as I fill the tank, a simple sound that marks the pause in my journey.
Inside the shop, I grab a packet of crisps and a chocolate bar—snacks that promise a quick burst of energy for the road ahead.
With a full tank and a stash of goodies, I set off again, the highway unfolding before me.
The landscape shifts, giving way to rolling hills and open fields. It's like a postcard from a storybook, the kind of place where everything seems idyllic, tucked away from the harshness of reality.
The hours tick by, and the rhythmic hum of tyres against asphalt lulls me into a semi-contemplative state. The Lake District is drawing closer with every passing moment. The signs announce my progress: 50 miles, 30 miles, 10 miles...
It's mid-afternoon when I pull over and open up the GPS to tap in the address of the small town nestled in the heart of the North Lakes. I wait as it brings up the route, and then I set off again, expecting to arrive in twenty minutes.
That's when my nerves hit, and at the same time, I spot a deer, an honest-to-God deer, on the side of the road.
"Deer!" I shout, even though I'm alone, grinning like a maniac. "Aww, a fucking deer. So cute." It's already darted off as my car trundles by on these godforsaken country roads that are barely wide enough for my tiny car. I take it easy, and after a particularly hazardous bend, I turn onto a wider road that would pass for a main road, I assume, and then concentrate on the directions the GPS is throwing at me, leading me onto a lovely road with new-build houses all lined up identical and not really what I expected. I imagined a quaint cottage that has seen more years than I've changed my underwear, but I guess that was a bit na?ve. Navigating the roads, I inhale deeply and exhale, letting my sudden burst of nerves dissipate.
"They're going to love you, Zara Roberts. Chin up, back straight. You got this shit."