I Left My Mate After Car Accident

I'm Clara Woods, and I've just been kicked out of Dominic Hale's sleek convertible in the middle of a highway, all because I scrolled through TikTok for ten minutes on the ride. Ten minutes! Apparently, pausing for two seconds on a video of some ripped dude was enough to flip Dominic's jealousy switch.

"Get out of my car!" he snapped, his voice colder than a winter night in Montana.

I froze, my fingers tightening around my phone. Then, like some bizarre augmented reality filter, lines of text started floating across my vision—pop-up comments from an invisible audience.

[Tch, tch, tch. Clara just glanced at a hot guy's abs for two seconds, and Dominic's already tipping over his jealousy jar!]

[Here we go again! Dude's itching to smash something when he's jealous but plays it cool to not freak Clara out. Gotta love this icy, untouchable vibe with a side of obsessive, unhinged devotion!]

The comments faded as I grabbed my bag, numbly stepping out of the car without a word. The door slammed shut, and Dominic's sports car peeled out, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust as rain started to drizzle from the sky.

So there I was, trudging along the road, soaked to the bone, when the comments popped up again.

[Clara, just bat your eyes at him! One kiss, and he'd hand you his whole world!]

[Dominic's out there red-eyed, flooring it on the highway to blow off steam. Dude's a mess but still playing it cool—hilarious!]

I wiped the rain from my face, my mind drifting back to when these weird pop-up comments first showed up. Seven years ago, I passed out from cramps during my period, and Dominic, the golden boy of our college—top grades, star athlete, total heartthrob—carried me to the healer's office. I fell hard for him that day, like a lovesick pup chasing a dream.

Once I learned his name, I went all in. Love letters, public confessions, homemade cookies, breakfast burritos—you name it, I tried it. Everyone told me to give up. "Dominic's the untouchable lone wolf," they said. "He doesn't do she-wolves." But I wasn't about to quit.

Still, after months of chasing with no sign he cared, I started to lose hope. That's when the comments appeared, spilling secrets like some cosmic gossip feed.

[Dominic's totally into Clara. Fell for her the second she collapsed in his arms. He's just too proud to admit it—loves her chasing him.]

[Every time Clara says she likes him, he's secretly thrilled but plays it cold just to hear her say it again. Oh, and he's got a stash of her photos in his desk drawer. Looks at them, like, a hundred times a day.]

I stood there, stunned, reading those floating words. Curiosity got the better of me, and I snuck a peek at his desk. Sure enough, I found a stack of my photos tucked away. From that moment, those comments became my lifeline. No matter how many times Dominic brushed me off with some flimsy excuse, I kept going, fueled by the knowledge that he cared—even if he wouldn't show it.

Two years of relentless pursuit later, I finally won him over. We became mates, but Dominic stayed as distant as ever. He never reached for my hand, zoned out on our dates, and forgot my birthday more times than I could count. Whenever I thought about walking away, though, the comments would swoop in to save the day.

[Dominic stayed up all night staring at Clara's photos!]

[He's got every single one of her social media posts saved on his phone!]

[He knows her favorite boba tea flavor by heart!]

Those snippets were my lifeline, pulling me back from the edge of giving up. We'd been mates for three years, and still, he never talked about forming a sacred bond. I waited and waited until my heart felt like ice. Eventually, I bought a ring myself and proposed to him.

But after we were bound, things got worse. He'd vanish on pack business without a word, miss our anniversaries, and when I was burning up with a 102-degree fever, he brushed it off, saying work came first. Yet, every time, the comments came through with an excuse.

[Clara's sick, and Dominic's losing it in his office—sent his assistant to deliver medicine ASAP!]

[While Clara was asleep, he stayed by her bedside, sneaking a kiss, not sleeping a wink all night!]

I clung to those words, convincing myself his coldness was just his way of loving me. The comments swore he was crazy about me, just too proud to show it—a classic romance novel wolf who didn't know how to open his mouth and say it.

Today, though, was the ninety-ninth time he'd hurt me in the name of love. Standing in the rain, I felt a bone-deep exhaustion I'd never known. I took a step forward, ready to keep walking, when a car came out of nowhere and slammed into me.

Bang!

I flew through the air like a kite with a snapped string, crashing hard onto the pavement. Blood pooled beneath me, pain tearing through every inch of my body as I trembled, convulsing. My vision blurred, my thoughts fading, until one last realization hit me.

I was done. I couldn't do this anymore.

When I came to, I was in a hospital bed, a dull ache throbbing in my chest. I let out a small groan.

"You're awake?"

That low, familiar voice. I turned my head, wincing, and saw Dominic sitting by my bed. His eyes were red, his long fingers clutching a surgical report so tightly his knuckles were white. He leaned toward me, then stopped himself, pulling back like he'd been burned.

I tried to sit up, but the door swung open.

"Dominic, you're here for Clara again," Aurora Lane said, strolling in with a healer's coat and a warm smile. "Don't worry, I did the surgery myself. It went perfectly."

Dominic's face went stone-cold. He shoved the report into his pocket. "I'm not here for her."

He grabbed a thermos from the bedside table, his voice softening deliberately. "You worked hard on all those surgeries yesterday. I brought you some soup."

Aurora's eyes lit up as she took it. "You made this just for me?"

"Yeah," Dominic muttered, ladling out a bowl, blowing on it to cool it down, and holding it to her lips. "Careful, it's hot."

Aurora sipped it, then pouted playfully. "Dominic, this piece of chicken's too big for me."

He hesitated, then took the spoon and ate the piece himself.

I watched them, my nails digging into my palms.

The comments flickered into view.

[Dominic's lying again. He spent hours simmering that soup for Clara. When he heard about her accident, he nearly lost it—cleared the pack's roads to get her here, called in the best healers in the pack, and hasn't slept in days watching over her. But the second she's awake, his proud wolf instincts kick in!]

[Aurora chased him back in college, but he never gave her the time of day. Now he's playing nice with her because he saw Clara chatting with some wolf a while back and got jealous. He's just using Aurora to make Clara jealous!]

I stared at the words, a bitter laugh caught in my throat. Seven years. Seven years of clinging to these fleeting, invisible comments to prop up this broken bond.

Aurora, still holding the half-empty bowl, sauntered over to my bed with a smile. "Clara, you should have some. It's good for you."

I eyed the lipstick smudge on the bowl's rim, my stomach churning. "No, thanks."

"Oh, come on," she pressed, pushing the bowl closer. "It'll help you heal."

"I said no!" I shoved her hand away, accidentally knocking the bowl over.

"Ah!"

Scalding soup splashed across my wounds and onto Aurora's hand. I curled up, gasping as blood soaked through my bandages.

Dominic rushed over but stopped short, turning to Aurora instead. He gently took her wrist, his voice soft as honey. "You okay? Let's get that looked at."

Then he turned to me, his eyes like frost. "Aurora was just trying to help. You didn't have to knock it over and hurt her. Don't be so reckless."

I bit my lip until I tasted blood, watching him leave with Aurora without a backward glance. The comments kept rolling.

[Dominic's mad because Clara wouldn't drink his soup. He's hurting for her but took Aurora out to call a healer for Clara's wounds!]

The words cut like claws. Seven years of justifying his coldness, his cruelty, with these comments. But real love shouldn't need a third party to explain it.

Tears slipped down my face. I'd had enough. I grabbed my phone and dialed a number.

"Hello, David? I need you to draft an agreement to break the bond. I'm done."