The Alpha Killed My Husband

39| The Apology Letter

‘Are you sure you want to start here?’ Lixin, the walking CCTV, asks through a mouthful of butterscotch with extra Choco chips. He gestures at the crowds at the pavement. ‘Anyways, I won’t mind the location since I am way better than you are, Ma’am. You don’t stand a chance.’ He adds smugly.

Bruh!

‘Are you?’ Avika raises her eyebrows, clearly offended. Unapproachable fury dances in her eyes. Sweet to not, she is a serpent and you commit any dreadful sin out there but you do not challenge a serpent.

I feel slightly bad for the omega here. Although Avika might seem a harmless little thing with her subtle features, and charming smile. At five-two, she is f*****g fierce.

This tiny annoying rat has no idea what he is getting himself into. The moment he witnesses ‘that side’ of hers, he is going run straight up on the hill and will only look back to confirm she isn’t following him.

‘Yeah, have been playing since I was three. I have played nationals.’ He says without meeting her eyes. The ice cream has his undivided attention. But his slanted eyes keep stealing glances sideways at where I am currently seated sulking.

‘I am sure, you have.’ She snickers dreadfully. For a fraction of a second, the deep loathing towards the wolves have resurfaced.

If his Oso-charming ass doesn’t shut up, I fear Avika would choke him with her bare vent.

Ideally, I should interrupt their banter. I should be coming to Avika’s rescue from another narcissist werewolf—be it omega—but I don’t let a word out.

Why?

Why not? It’s f*****g amusing to watch this little suffering suppressing her anger. Her Ethical Queen must know how it feels to get a hold on one’s emotions. After all, easier said than done!

Besides, I am bored. Like real bored. Like I can watch a snail crawling bored.

After rifling through the pages of ‘A short guide for impactful writing’, I reach out for the fourth one, cursing unique obscenities under my breath. I flip through it absently like the previous one and search for the significant content that could help me drafting my own.

The first three paragraphs are a bullshit sort of introduction. ‘The Basics’; it promises about unreachable standards I’d reach, the kind of work I’d end up writing and Yada, Yada, Yadaaaaaaaa.

The next few pages draw a vague outline of what is about to come and how the author ends up scribbling the magical tips while she was wrestling with tornadoes, sinking ships, earthquakes, and every other natural calamity out there. In brief, she has tried mightily to prove a point that she has been nothing more than a miser till now and if she can do it, so can every nanny-ganny shitty little thing out there.

So, I ruffle a couple of pages and read randomly if anything catches my attention.

Being a bookaholic serpent has its own advantages. I can almost guess the next line, next chapter, and next theory. It isn’t a mastery but an art that has been bestowed upon with time and endless readings.

In present case, nothing seems to be promising in any of the crap the werewolves have written. Mostly, the same basic ideas over and over again: keep them concise, true, simple, lucid, uncontroversial, and blah blah blah.

I bet; I can write better than that but I am not. Why? Because the blank screen seems more fascinating. And screw anyone who isn’t able to get the sarcasm. Babe, just let it be!

It feels like after years, I have set up to write. It could be because of the stress or because I am not used to using this technology. But I must get myself used to it. This game is going to last longer than I had predicted. Whatever, I’ll come out as a pro.

‘We will see, Lixin.’ Avika challenged bitterly. And she isn’t kidding.

Tennis used to be an idle hobby of hers, one that used to amuse the Maharaja. (The creep used to wait for her to jump in those tiny skirt so his button-ic eyes could be blessed) This omega does not stand a chance simply. In fact, he’d be smart to back out. That is, if he wants to keep his balls intact.

‘You may. It's unlikely for an omega wolf, but I can schedule the match this weekend if it isn’t too soon for you.’ Lixin isn’t getting back either.

On anything, the future-demised folds his hands to his chest and tilts his head smugly.

I think I should snap his picture for future remembrance. His family might be short on some good snaps.

I can practically hear Avika gritting her teeth. Okay! The poor omega is collecting super enemies amongst the sworn enemies. His talent is worth rewarding at international level.

‘Give up both of you.’ I interrupt, feeling slight—not too much—slight pity on the Lixin. He is just a budding flower, seeing the first spring of his life. He shouldn’t be crushed without a chance.

Avika pins me under the ice-iest look I have ever seen. Her eyes are narrowed, nostrils are flared, and I can see she is physically withholding herself from jumping over the table and deep fry me in a pan.

Well, hello there!

I am still giving Alpha the cold shoulder because he isn’t here and he doesn’t care and he did not apologize and I do not care. I refused to acknowledge his existence on the breakfast table even when I slammed crockery on his empty chair. (I broke an expensive-looking glass too! Just because I feel like and I can afford it. Thank you very much.)

Granted, it was the first time I had seen him upset and I did not know how to deal with it. Neither Tarifa nor Avika came to any help. Tarifa gave me some useful tips—seducing him in bed and playing hard to get up—I never followed it and, well, Avika was useless.

But he cannot slap me, fly away without as much as a phone call, give interviews for stupid magazines and tabloids, and pretend the sky is clear, life is funny, and I am Queen of the Fairies.

Overall, I am on my own to figure out things with the two morons who argues over atomic masses of iron ore.

If a year back someone had told me that I would be occupying the corner seat in an igloo-structured cafe on the evening of AnantNath knows what date and furiously typing away on my arched nemesis’s mate’s laptop, I wouldn’t have giggled, but I wouldn’t have definitely taken them seriously too. (Beeh! Thank you very much, but no thanks. Team paper-pen here!)

However, if the same person had told me that I would have been writing the first draft of my enemy’s life story pretending to be my own life’s story that has just been out of a deadly predicament, I would probably have rolled over the floor laughing my ass off, and if the person had told me that I would be writing about *gulp* my present husband c*m Alpha: (the hotshot asshole for a young billionaire and ruler of this so-called pack) this would have surely triggered a full-time hysteria to the edge where ambulances would have been called and I would have been kicked into an asylum.

‘You pay attention on that.’ Avika points at the laptop. ‘We barely have any time left. I can handle it.’ She points between herself and Lixin who is now gawking at me with butterscotch smeared lips.

‘What if she gets kicked out in first two-three rounds? It’ll be waste of time. Better enjoy where we are right now. Now is the heaven.’ The Omega interjects coyly. His smile drops an inch when our head jointly snaps in his direction.

This wretched soup of octopus curry. Let me out, Sarvayoni. Nagini fumes. He desperately needs to take a sip of my venomous mocktail. Let’s see if he can go past the first three minutes.

‘Shut the crap up, you black-tongued demon. How can you even think about it?’ Avika slams the table, making me jump a bit. Yet, I maintain my demeanour. I ignore the loud thumps of my heart and focused on looking scary instead.

‘Yeah! Black-tongued. Jet black-tongued. Mid-night Black-tongued. How can you even think about it? How dare you doubt my capabilities?’

‘I...I di-didn't mean it that way, Luna. I was suggesting you to enjoy the moment.’ Lixin mumbles timidly.

For more than half of my life, I having been playing the good storyteller. I like writing. I really do. But I only scribble to let out my frustration. Those are random thoughts. Just like that...dripping with anger, agony, happiness, and desperation. I wrote because I was bored and not wanted to let the whole country scrutinize it.

The most phenomenal achievement in my ‘writing career’ has been a bronze in the Essay Writing Competition in grade four. Now, it doesn't necessarily mean that I am skill-less. I can dance (damn, I got moves and grace and all that flexibility of Nagini!) I can paint. (Quick, where is the brush? Oh, I don't need it. I have Nagini's tail.). I could cook too (without setting the kitchen on fire. Yay!). I am good at trigonometry (if that counts as a skill) and I am a compassionate reader.

I am sure my skills are way ahead of some stupid Luna’s out there. Hell Yeah!

‘Explain yourself.’ Avika demands, folding her hands to the chest intimidatingly.

‘Yeah, explain yourself.’ I mimic her actions and expressions. Why am I behaving like a copycat?

‘Umm...er...she hasn’t written past two paragraphs throughout the day. She looks stressed. I was trying to lighten up.’ Lixin stutters.

Okay, here it goes. I remember having a hard time drafting all those English assignments back at school. Although I was pretty good at examinations and all, the creative writing and answer writing was like the southern pole and the north! I just couldn't do it.

Now, I am told to draft a whole f*****g Essay. It was fine till here too. I could have managed it pretty smoothly had I was to write like Sarvayoni and not Luna Aaradhya.

With it, even I was managing. The problem started when I was asked to include Rudransh's traits in it. Well, it was kind of impossible for me after that.

There! I just used the word that I despise the most. I'm one of those for whom anything can be everything but impossible. I just have to gear up, push myself a little harder and bam! I have done it: good or bad? Never mattered!

‘I. Am. Working. On. It.’ I emphasis slowly.

So, what if, I am crammed in a small chair with a cup of steaming coffee, a bunch of books, a Luxor blue ink pen and my recently logged-in Laptop as my companions to write the exact episodes, and mention the same person that I dreaded the most in my life. And it is called confronting one's fear, moving forward and s**t like that? I am making it.

If only I had known about it earlier, about him, I could have avoided so many sleepless nights and days of agonies. It would have been less of a torture.

Then again, resentments are better than regret. I did what I had to do and I definitely don't regret anything. It started three years back. It will end soon. I am some hours away before realizing my dream. I have to keep it together.

‘Ugh!’ I groaned, slamming the table fiercely. My fury-filled eyes scan the screen where a list of traits are numbers.

Arrogant.

Stubborn.

Impulsive.

Indecisive. 5

Feisty.

Creative.

Intelligent.

Impatient.

Short-tempered.

Passion.

Courage.

Pride.

My fingers had stopped to deliberate deeper into my personality traits. I frowned at the list, feeling slightly unimpressed. It should be longer than a toilet paper roll.

I am a Queen and now half Luna. I should have all the best qualities available in the universe. I had rummaged through every corner of my brain to produce more. My brain has reached its limits.

Any suggestions, Nagini? I asked the drowsing serpent. She grunts, flaps her tail and dozes off without so much as a word.

‘You have not even figured an outline.’ Lixin counters calmly.

This punk!

I open my mouth only to close it back. I sigh. I am on a mission to figure out myself before the contest. It is high time I figured out my strengths and weaknesses so I can use them as a competitive advantage. My next task would be to sort out Rudransh’s traits.

I thought it’d help. I remember my mother saying that a war cannot be won by the strength of an army or the weapons they hold, the results are figured out by the strategy they play on the battleground—and I’d planned on using her insights in the essay. It may take time but I am making strategies.

Vampuza wasn’t built in a day. I pull my hair, going through the list once again.

Adventurousness.

Curiosity.

Energetic.

Undisciplined.

Before I could read further, a mail pings as Rudransh saunters into my inbox. The derogatory argument is long forgotten as a little butterfly Gangnam Style in my stomach.

My heart picks up beats.

Finally, an apology letter. Nagini stirs up.