Not once—not once—had I joined a full moon run with our family since she arrived.
Every time they promised to go hunting with me, something just happened to Elsa. A fever. An allergy. Some excuse. And they’d rush to the infirmary with her… leaving me behind. Always.
From the day she stepped into this house, they poured everything into her—attention, care, love.
But when I shifted for the first time?
They forgot. Completely.
No one watched me transform. No one celebrated. No ritual. No guests. Not even a word of congratulations.
Yet for Elsa, they invited half the pack. They made a spectacle out of it.
I stared at William, tears welling up in my eyes, my voice shaking as I choked out the words:
“William, do you even remember the first time I shifted?”
“Not only did all of you forget it completely—you didn’t even care! No one said a word. No one asked me how it went, how I felt, or if I was scared.”
“It was supposed to be the most important moment in a werewolf’s life… and I went through it alone.”
It seemed that William remembered something—because for a brief moment, I saw guilt flicker in his eyes.
But his words were still cold. Ice-cold.
“Why are you being so petty?” he snapped.
“If you’d just admitted your mistakes and tried to make up for them, do you think our parents would’ve stayed angry for this long?”
Just then, the front door opened. I heard their voices even before they stepped inside.
My parents.
“How dare you mention your first shift!” my father roared. “You’re shameless!”
“You don’t deserve a ritual—not after what you did to Elsa!”
His fury hit me like a tidal wave. His wolf was so close to the surface, I could feel it—like it wanted to rip me apart.
“Elsa’s entire ritual was ruined because of you! But did she blame you? No. She begged us to forgive you. She cried so hard she fainted!”
“And you don’t even feel a hint of guilt? Apologize to her! Now!”
Elsa snapped out of her sorrow, stepped closer, and forced a pitiful smile. Her voice, barely above a whisper, carried a trace of understanding as she said:”
“There’s no need to apologize, Jennifer. But… could you please bake me that walnut cake? I’ve been craving it for so long.”
Mom’s face immediately softened, lighting up with misplaced warmth.
“Jennifer, just look at how kind Elsa is! She’s giving you a chance to make things right. Why won’t you take it?”
I stared at Elsa’s fake smile, my voice cold.
“Didn’t you say you’re allergic to nuts?”
“Are you trying to frame me for trying to kill you? You insist I bake you a walnut cake—just so you can accuse me of poisoning you?”
