SOREN
The days after graduation felt like a blur. Liam organized the entire move, of course, while I was completely useless. He packed my things, hired a moving company, and when everything was delivered to the new place, he unpacked and put everything in closets.
I was like a zombie, barely able to breathe, just drifted around the apartment or lay lifeless on the bed. I spent hours there, numb, sometimes crying, though I tried to hide it from Liam. He hovered around with a concerned look, treating me like a disabled or something. He'd bring me sweets, make me creamy soups, and even downloaded my favorite shows, suggesting we watch them together. I was so out of it that I eventually agreed. We spent the whole weekend glued to the screen—me just trying to shut my brain off.
There were still a few days before we were supposed to start working at DevApp. Liam would occasionally give me these looks, like he was trying to gauge if I was finally getting over my ‘low point'. To him, this probably seemed like a small, fleeting thing. He kept saying, "You didn't even sleep with him, so how serious could it have been? It didn't get far enough for you to be this torn up, Soren. Soon you'll get rid of him from your system."
He repeated it regularly, every few hours, like he was trying to hypnotize me. Whenever he saw my face change, hit by a wave of pain, he'd sit beside me, take my hands, and start talking in his calm voice. He'd tell me everything would be okay, that I'd feel better in a few days, a week, a month, and that I'd forget about it all and move on.
Thankfully, he didn't bring up his idea of us being a couple again. Maybe he finally realized that what he did before wasn't very tactful. After our last conversation, I gave him absolutely no answer—just stayed quiet and went to bed without even looking at him. Perhaps now he thought better of it, planning to slow things down with me.
He'd become more cautious, yes, but his presence was still like a shadow—impossible to avoid. He even followed me into the bathroom sometimes. I felt awkward when he walked in while I was taking a shower. I turned so he couldn't see my crotch, but his eyes still roamed over my body, and I knew exactly what he was thinking.
The fact that he wanted me—disturbed me, but what could I do? Right now, I only had Liam. Skye was gone. I'd pushed him away, thrown away my chance. My chance at what, though? Love? Or another broken heart? Probably the latter, but for some stupid reason, I still wanted it.
Every night, after Liam went to bed, I'd write Skye a short email. It was like keeping a journal. I'd write things like:
"Day 6 since I told you to leave. It's not getting any better. I don't know if you're reading this or if you blocked my email, but I want you to know that all it takes is one word from you, and we can be together. I want to give this a chance. Please, just reach out."
***
A few days later, Liam and I started working at DevApp.
It wasn't particularly difficult for me, since I'd already been employed there part-time for the past year and a half, or close to two years, actually. I knew everyone on the team, I'd been exchanging emails and having online meetings with them regularly, discussing various projects.
Thanks to my experience, I got a higher starting salary than the newbies, so things were looking good—at least career-wise. I had no trouble paying off my debt and my share of the rent.
Also, for the first time, I met my director, Winter Nolan, in person. Up to then, we'd only spoken online. During almost two years, we never had a reason to meet face-to-face since I'd been working remotely as a part-time junior coder. But now I had a job at their headquarters.
When I first walked into his office, something struck me—something about his face. Now that I was seeing him up close, I noticed he had quite a resemblance to Skye, something I hadn't recognized before. Seeing his visage in a tiny video chat window, it wasn't obvious, especially from the front, but now I realized they really did have similar features.
Winter Nolan was a beta like me, though slightly taller, perhaps by an inch and a half. He had long platinum blond (almost white) hair braided down to his shoulder blades, and his face had a cold, somewhat aloof look. His very pale eyebrows and lashes didn't do him any favors, giving him a slight albino impression. Despite his regular facial features, I had a feeling he wasn't exactly a hit in the dating scene. His icy demeanor and that washed-out, blanched appearance didn't add to his charm, for sure.
Fortunately, he treated me well. He was impressed with my academic record—I'd graduated with honors, top of my year in my major. Immediately, he assigned me to an ambitious project for ByteBites, which they were just starting. It was a chance for me to get in on everything from the beginning.
As we sat discussing the project details, I couldn't take my eyes off him—his face, that nose (now that I could view it from the side), so identical to Skye's. Even his lips were similarly shaped, kinda sweet, sensual. The same arching of the eyebrows! When I looked at his hands, I saw the similarities—the shape of the nails was identical. It could not be a coincidence.
At one point, when he finished briefing me on a stage of the project, I couldn't hold back and blurted out, "Sorry to ask, but do you have any siblings? I once met someone who looked a lot like you."
Winter's pale gray eyes met mine, and he raised his white eyebrows that looked like they were embroidered with snow. "I actually have seven brothers. It's possible you met one of them. One of my brothers actually graduated from the same major at your college."
"Skye Nolan?" I muttered, struggling to get his name out.
Winter's expression remained unchanged as he replied, "Yes, that's him. Do you know him?"
I almost choked and cleared my throat loudly. What the fuck… or rather, what luck?
But I pushed out, "Yeah, he's really talented. He graduated second, right after me."
Winter made a strange face and shrugged. "For an alpha, he's decent, but personally, I don't think alphas are cut out to be programmers. They have a harder time focusing on tedious, precise tasks. It's their hormones—they're impossible to control," he said with such disdain that it sent a chill down my spine. Winter's lips—so very Skye-like—winced, and it was a surreal experience. I knew those lips had engaged in so many sweet things…
But I also felt the need to defend Skye.
"Skye was really good, and he learned quickly. Your family's definitely got talent."
Winter snorted slightly. "Our company doesn't employ a single alpha, and we don't plan to change that. They're always a liability, creating an unhealthy atmosphere in the workplace," he said, his tone icy.
I stared at him, a bit shocked. The way he casually dropped such a gender-biased comment, especially about his own relative, was really jarring. Skye's brothers, though descended from True Mates' parents, didn't seem to get along too well—at least not when it came to personalities.
The convo with Winter could've ended badly because I was getting worked up, ready to jump even more in Skye's defense, but at the last second, I decided to change the subject. I didn't want to reveal what I actually thought about Skye, as it could lead to more in-depth questions, and I definitely didn't want to seem like I disagreed with my new boss. But the thought of working with Skye's full-blooded brother made me feel uneasy in a way I couldn't quite shake.
Thankfully, Winter didn't seem interested in talking about Skye either. He quickly moved on to another topic.
He assigned me a lot of work, and honestly, I was grateful. I could stay buried in tasks, drown out my emotions.
Over the next few days, I threw myself into programming projects, meetings with colleagues, and discussions about new plans.
But all of that felt like it was just happening on the surface of my life.
During the day, I could keep up the fa?ade while I was at the office, but it felt like I was holding my breath the entire time. The moment I left work, it all came crashing down—this whole charade of pretending.
Liam, who also got a job at DevApp but in a different department, worked on the upper floor. We only saw each other during lunch in the company cafeteria and then on the way home in the parking lot. He was the only one who saw how my fake energy drained out of me the second the car doors closed. My face would fall into a permanent grimace, and my eyes would just stare blankly into space.
***
Days passed, and the pain still didn't go away. It felt like an open wound that wouldn't heal, like something was constantly pulling at my heart, like there was a string wrapped around it, yanking me back toward Skye.
Every day felt like a small nightmare that I only survived by clenching my jaw and fists, fighting for every breath, fighting for at least one brief moment when it didn't hurt so much. Then I'd sit down at my computer and write another email:
"Day 16 since I told you to leave. Skye, I beg for your forgiveness. Please, please forgive me. What I did was the biggest mistake of my life. I didn't mean to hurt you. I was trying to protect myself, but I ended up doomed to the torment of a life without you. Please, please give me a chance…"
Another week would go by, with nothing changing. The only difference was that Liam seemed to be hovering closer and closer, sitting next to me, hugging me more often, even for trivial reasons. But his hugs didn't comfort me. They just made me feel scared and stressed. Sometimes, his kindness even irritated me—cooking for me, taking care of all the household chores while I lay in bed, struggling with this relentless, gnawing pain that was tearing at my soul. I hated it all!
Then I'd sit down again and write another email, chaotic, incoherent:
"Day 20 since I told you to leave. I don't even know if you're reading this anymore. I've lost faith that you are. Maybe I didn't explain something that could've been important to you. I didn't do anything with Don. The moment we walked away from you, I told him to get lost. He was pissed and called me the worst slut he'd ever fucked—a little honesty at the end, like a cherry on top. But I want you to know that I didn't do anything with him. I couldn't—I wouldn't. Please, you have to believe me. I couldn't do that, not with him, not to you! It was really the worst idea to even use Don like that, to hurt you…"
Another week of this ghastly existence passed, but the pain didn't go away, and Liam kept getting closer and closer.
He started coming to me in the evenings, lying next to me under the pretense of wanting to talk. We'd chat about all kinds of meaningless stuff. I gradually stopped bringing up Skye because I noticed it triggered some nervous, almost compulsive behavior in Liam. He'd grab my hands and yank me lightly, as if trying to shake Skye out of my head, or he'd hold my face in his hands and insist I'd made the right decision, speaking in an increasingly tense and agitated tone.
So, I finally stopped unloading on him about how much it hurt and how I couldn't bear another day. But it was tearing me apart inside.
Then, in secret from Liam, I'd sit down and write another email:
"Day 30 since I told you to leave, Skye. I'm losing hope that you'll ever write back. I've lost you. I made a mistake, and now I have to pay for it. Liam is pushing more and more—not with words, but I can tell he wants something from me that I can't give. I'm in a tough spot. I don't know what to do. Please, reach out. Please, help me. We still have a chance, we still have a chance…"
Another week went by, and finally, Liam couldn't hold back anymore.
One day, he was lying next to me, and we were chatting about the latest project when he suddenly reached out and brushed my cheek. Then he said, "I didn't want to bring this up before because I could see how much you were struggling, but I'm struggling too—with what I feel for you. You know I've been in love with you for years, right? I've been waiting for you, believing that someday we could be together… Please, Soren, give me a chance. I'm begging you, don't push me away. I'm begging you for just one small chance…"
I gasped because I was so shocked. Of course, I knew he wanted this, but hearing him actually say it out loud made it feel so much more real and heavy because I knew what it would mean for me.
"Give me a few more weeks, Liam. I need to pull myself together, and then we can talk about this again," I managed to choke out. I saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, but he nodded and assured me that he'd wait as long as I needed.
That day, I wrote to Skye:
"35 days since I told you to leave. Liam is pressuring me to be with him. I'm terrified because he's not who I want. Please forgive me, please come back to me…"
Another week passed, and Liam's hovering intensified even more. By this time, we were sleeping in the same bed—not by my choice, but because he kept coming and staying, falling asleep next to me. He even started taking my hand when we got out of the car and walked to the company building, shyly at first, then more deliberately.
Seeing how it progressed, I even had the thought that I should run away from Liam, find out where Skye lived, or jump off the building, or maybe just search for a therapist who could prescribe me electroshock therapy to reset my fucking brain.
Day after day it went on until finally day 40 came, and it was the first time I didn't write to Skye.
This day… I gave up. I was especially tired, having an upset stomach the day before, and felt drained and depressed.
I sat down at the laptop several times, opened my inbox, started a new message, then closed it again. I didn't see the point anymore. If he wanted to reply, he would have responded to the other emails I'd already sent out into the void. Those countless emails should've been enough for him to know where I stood and what I wanted.
Apparently, he wanted something else.
Exactly 50 days after I pushed Skye away, Liam came to me in the evening, lay down next to me, and touched my cheek again.
"Soren, can we talk about this now? Please, give me a chance. I'll be there for you, I'll be everything you need. I promise I'll do everything I can to make you happy."
I wanted to tell him: ‘You can't. You're not Skye. You're not an alpha. You're not someone I can see myself with for the rest of my life. I'm not attracted to you…' I so wanted to say all of that, but… I couldn't. I would lose everything, be completely alone, no family, no friends, and because I hated the feeling of being lonely—it seemed like another trap. I was too worn out from suffering, too lost and scared, too exhausted.
The failure—another failure in my life—felt too strong, too tangible. So, I slowly nodded and said those damn words:
"Okay, Liam, let's try. But let's take it slow. I'm not ready for everything yet, but if you want, we can call ourselves boyfriends."
Liam's eyes lit up. He wrapped me tightly in his arms and kissed my cheek. "Thank you. I promise I won't let you down. You won't regret this," he whispered.
Then he moved his lips toward mine. I shuddered with disgust as he pressed them against just the corner of my lips. I pulled away and whispered, "But not that—not yet. You'll have to be patient."
"I will, I promise. I'll wait. For now, I'm just happy we're together, even if it's only platonic…" He lay down beside me, and I lay there stiffly, staring up at the ceiling.
I hated my life so much. Once again. Another trap. Another year… another dreaded year was coming…