"You're still in bed?" Lola sighed dramatically, "Get up, Sofia. The servants need help carrying things to the hall."
It was Lola's nineteenth birthday, and the entire pack was involved in the celebration. Her expression showed her annoyance. She rolled her eyes and was about to leave when she paused at the doorway.
"Oh—and try not to humiliate yourself when Damien gets here. You stare at him like some pathetic lovesick mutt.... It's embarrassing."
The door slammed shut. Sofia bit her lip. Lola's words hurt, but she pushed the pain down and stayed quiet.
Sofia pushed herself out of bed. She bathed quickly, then slipped into a plain blue dress. It had once been her favorite. Now she wore it only because it covered all of her arms. She tied her blond hair back and studied her reflection in the mirror. Round cheeks. Soft arms. Eyes that tried to be brave. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and went downstairs.
The kitchen was alive with the smell of sugar and butter. Trays of pastries crowded the counters. Before she had time to react, Sofia felt a smack on her arm.
It was the head chef, looking at her angrily.
"You're late," She hissed, as though Sofia were a servant.
For a moment, Sofia wanted to remind her—wanted to shout that she was Beta Stephen's eldest daughter. But she reminded herself bitterly: she wasn't Lola, the precious daughter. She was the other one.
The one everyone called the spare.
"Take the food to the long table," the cook instructed before shoving a heavy bowl into her arms.
Sofia obeyed.
Golden ribbons draped from the beams, light spilling across polished floors. Young wolves darted between chairs, shrieking with laughter until an elder snapped his fingers and sent them scurrying back to their parents.
She set the bowl down and went back for more, afraid of being scolded for being slow. No one seemed to acknowledge her existence. She was invisible in their eyes.
By the third trip, a group of girls stood blocking her path, snapping pictures of themselves in their glittering dresses. They had the kind of bodies the pack called perfect: slender, lean. Anything else was labeled unattractive. That was the box Sofia had been shoved into.
One of the girls looked her up and down and smirked.
"Careful with the cake, Sofia. Leave some for the guests."
The others laughed mockingly. Sofia kept her head low, gripping the hems of her dress as she kept walking. Some battles weren't worth fighting.
Her father, Beta Stephen, stood at the entrance, issuing orders. He was tall, well-built, with gray streaking at his temples. He didn't notice Sofia at first—too busy arranging guards, adjusting details, making sure nothing went wrong.
When his eyes finally landed on her, he gave her a single nod.
Not a father's warmth, not love—just acknowledgment.
"Sofia, go help the kitchen with the plates. And make sure your sister's gifts are moved to the stage."
Sofia fought back the words that were stuck in her throat.
"Yes, Father."
She knew he wasn't unkind to her. He was simply busy with what mattered. And today, Lola was the only thing that mattered.
By midmorning, all preparation was complete. The doors to their home opened and guests came pouring in. Lola adored attention. She was dressed in silver, enchantingly beautiful as always. Someone crowned her with a wreath of gold, she laughed as though she was born to wear it.
"Our princess," they called her. "Our Lola."
Sofia lingered at the back, watching. They were sisters. They shared the same face shape and lips. But all the likeness stopped there.
Lola glowed, Sofia didn't.
Sofia wished she could slip back to her room. But that was impossible. Not when her mother constantly sought her out. She wanted her to watch Lola receive everything she never would.
The moment Sofia gained weight, she ceased to exist in her parents' eyes. She was just the spare. The other one.
Her own birthdays had never been celebrated. No cakes, no songs, not even a "happy birthday" from her parents. Everyone forgot—except one person. But he was no longer in her life.
"He's here! He's here!"
Suddenly, whispers swept through the crowd. Heads turned. Sofia followed their gaze, and her breath hitched.
Damien, the Alpha heir, had just arrived.
Her heart skipped, the way it always did around him. A feeling she had tried, and failed, to kill over the past years.
The moment her sister spotted him, she abandoned her admirers and rushed into his arms. Damien chuckled softly, catching her easily and spinning her around. Claps echoed through the hall, girls blushed, and some looked on with envy. The perfect couple.
Sofia didn't want what her sister had. All she wanted was her friend back.
The boy who used to spar with her. Who shared water after training. Who stood up for her when others mocked her weight. Who once nearly beat another boy bloody for calling her a "spare tire."
That boy had been Damien.
But two years ago, everything changed. He stopped talking to her.
"Stay away from me, Sofia," He said with disdain as he looked into her eyes, jaw tight.
No reason. No explanation. Just a command.
And from that moment on, they became strangers.
That night, Sofia had thought of dying. She prayed to the Moon Goddess to take her in her sleep. But the Goddess never answered her prayers.
"Happy birthday, Lola," Damien beamed as he handed her a gift wrapped in red ribbon.
He said something that made the crowd laugh. Lola blushed as she leaned over to kiss his cheek.
Sofia looked away as she bit her trembling lip. But something drew her to look back. When she gathered the courage to, she couldn't look away.
Damien's eyes were locked on hers.