Failed Love

The night Amelia Caldwell, my lifelong rival, swaggered back to Joravia Pack, Alpha Stephan Westbrook was at the airport-everyone smelled it.

The media pounced, and by morning, their "rekindled love" was all over the pack's feeds, loud enough to rattle windows.

For weeks, social media went nuts: pics of them hanging around the same fancy neighborhood, insiders spilling sappy stuff about their "epic romance."

Then someone dug up a photo of me dropping off a pie to Stephan last year. The pack tore into it:

"Yara Hollis has been chasing Stephan forever, but Amelia's back one day and she's dust."

"Stephan and Amelia should just bond already! Keep losers like Yara out of the way."

Amelia posted on her page: a pic of two hands tangled over a burger, caption: "Years gone, but I'd cross the whole damn country to find you."

To let them have their "destiny," I packed my bags, left a bond-breaker note, and split.

But Stephan lost his mind. Voice cracking, he roared:

"When the pack talks crap, mates fight back! You just run off-don't you have a single care in you?!"

My business trip flight landed the same night Amelia got back.

She hadn't changed-still glowing, grabbing all the attention without even trying.

Her split with Stephan years ago, before she bolted, was pack legend. The second word hit she was back, every reporter in Joravia was shoving mics in her face.

I pulled my hood up, snuck past the crowd, and prayed she didn't catch my scent. Her perfume stung-too sweet, too loud.

Me and Amelia? We've hated each other since we were pups. Always bickering, always trying to one-up.

But here's the kicker: a year after she left, Stephan and I bonded. We kept it quiet-three whole years.

Nearby, two reporters grumbled, too loud: