Chapter 1: An Older Sister’s Sacrifice

[Margaret’s POV] “Margaret, have you seen my pink shoes?” “I’m not sure. Why don’t you try looking under your bed?” That was my younger sister, Elizabeth. Though we were born just moments apart, I had been assigned the title of ‘older sister.’ A mere few seconds had set the course of my life in ways that often felt unjust. From the time we were small, any disagreement between us ended the same way. If there was an argument, if she cried, if she so much as pouted, I would hear the same refrain from our parents: “Margaret, you’re the older sister. You need to be more understanding and give in to your younger sister.” And so, Elizabeth would get her way. My most treasured possessions—whether it was my beloved stuffed bear, a dress I had my heart set on, or even the affection of our parents—were often handed over to her without question. Perhaps that was why we had grown into such different people. I had learned to follow the rules, to be dutiful and obedient, while Elizabeth carried herself with an unshakable confidence, never once calling me ‘sister.’ To her, I was simply Margaret, and that was how it had always been. I turned to the mirror, running a brush through my hair as I examined my reflection. Today was the day Elizabeth and I would finally come of age. It was a milestone for all werewolves, an event of great significance where we would stand before our entire pack and step into adulthood. Our pack’s Alpha was Armstrong—a man of strength and stature, standing at an impressive six foot five inches. More than that, he was my boyfriend. We had been together since we were twelve years old, and through every significant moment in my life, he had been by my side. I had been there when his father passed away, when he ascended as the new Alpha, and through countless other trials. For someone like me, who had always felt like a mere shadow in Elizabeth’s presence, it was almost unimaginable that an Alpha would choose me. But Armstrong had always reassured me. In moments of doubt, when I felt small and overlooked, he was my anchor. I thought back to one particular Halloween from our childhood. As per tradition, Elizabeth and I had set out to collect candies. However, she quickly grew tired of the cold and, after visiting just two houses, decided to head home. I urged her to continue, but she refused, leaving me behind to complete our rounds alone. Determined, I trudged through the cold, knocking on door after door, gathering an impressive collection of sweets. By the time I returned home, my fingers and toes were numb. What awaited me, however, was not praise for my efforts but an accusation. Elizabeth was curled up by the fireplace, pouting as our parents comforted her. When I attempted to show them the bag of candies I had worked so hard to collect, my father’s gaze turned stern. “Margaret, how could you leave your sister behind? She had to walk home alone in the snow.” I turned to Elizabeth, who did not look the least bit cold. It was I who had suffered, I who had braved the chill. Yet, in their eyes, I was the one in the wrong. And so, I was made to give Elizabeth all the candies I had collected. She was invited to sleep in the large, warm bed with our parents while I was sent to the attic to ‘reflect’ on my mistake. I lay in my small bed that night, my stomach empty, my heart heavy with injustice. That was when I decided to sneak out. The strength of a werewolf far surpassed that of an ordinary human, and I had always been among the strongest of my peers. Climbing down from the attic window was an easy feat. I wandered the streets, hoping to find any stray candies that other children might have dropped. That was when I met Armstrong for the first time. Even as a teenager, he carried himself with the authority of a future Alpha. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “I was looking for candy.” “No one’s handing out candy this late.” After a pause, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of chocolate. “Here, take this.” The moment I accepted it, it felt as though he had been sent by the Moon Goddess herself. The night was clear, the stars shimmering in the sky. In that moment, Armstrong became someone truly special to me. After that night, we spent more and more time together. I shared my stories with him—stories of unfairness, of loneliness, of always being asked to put Elizabeth first. “You know,” I told him once, “my parents told me to apologize to Elizabeth, but I refused. She just kept crying.” “And?” Armstrong prompted. “Then I cried too. But they only cared about comforting her. In the end, I was still the one who had to give her my candies.” I hesitated before asking, “Do you think I’m petty for remembering it even now?” “Did you give her the candies in the end?” “I did. Because they said that as the older sister, I had to give in.” Armstrong studied me for a long moment before saying, “You’re good, Margaret. The best girl I’ve ever met. But you need to have more confidence in yourself.” He pulled me into his arms, his gaze unwavering. For the first time in my life, I felt truly seen. No one had ever taken my side like this, had ever reassured me that I was right to feel the way I did. A warmth spread through my chest. “I’m really grateful to you. Meeting you has been the luckiest thing in my life. You’re better to me than my own family.” “I am your family,” he told me firmly. “One day, you will be my wife, the future Luna of our pack.” I believed him. The Moon Goddess had destined us to be together, and I would hold onto that fate with everything I had.