Fated to a human

Haylie POV 

I awoke from a deep sleep, jolted by the sound of two chattering voices. Frowning, I pushed myself upright and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The cold floor sent a shiver up my spine, making me rub my arms for warmth. 

 The voices carried on, faint but unmistakable, and a sinking feeling formed in my stomach. Who could it be? Was JC on the phone, or was someone here with him? 

With deliberate quietness, I tiptoed to the door and slipped out of the room. Moving cautiously down the hallway, I followed the sounds until I reached the kitchen. Stopping in the doorway, I froze. 

Standing there, speaking to JC, was a young woman with dark brown hair and nearly black eyes. 

She turned to look at me, startled, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. I recognized her immediately—the girl I'd seen with Liam at school. The girl who had stolen my face. 

"Melody," I whispered, my voice barely audible. 

Her surprised expression softened as she spoke. "Haylie, you're awake." 

The words were simple, but they stung. I stood there, rooted in place, grappling with the storm of emotions rising inside me. Anger urged me to lash out, to confront her for taking my life, my face, and now my place with the man I loved. But fear held me back. 

She had magic—I didn't. JC was a wolf, and I was only human. 

JC's voice broke the silence, casual and unbothered as if nothing was amiss. "Haylie, this is my sister, Melody." 

My gaze snapped to him, my throat tightening so much I couldn't form words. 

"I guess you two have met before?" he continued, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. 

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the rising anxiety threatening to choke me. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to charge at her, to release the rage simmering inside. She had stolen my life—my face, my body, my place. 

 My hand, trembling with suppressed anger, gripped the doorframe for support. 

"Why are you doing this to me?" I managed to choke out, my voice shaky but sharp. It wasn't the only question burning in my mind, but it was the one that escaped. 

Melody's expression shifted, the darkness in her gaze softening into something like concern. "Because," she began, her tone low and steady, "my brothers already attacked me yesterday at school. They thought I was you. Now, imagine if it had been you. Do you think you would've survived that attack?" 

Her words hit me like a blow to the chest. 

 My eyes widened, but I straightened my spine, trying to regain my composure. Crossing my arms over my chest, I shot back, "Do you think I'm not strong enough to fight my own battles?" 

Melody let out a soft, bitter laugh that turned my stomach. The sound filled me with a nauseating sense of helplessness, and I tasted bile rising in my throat. 

She moved with deliberate calm, walking over to the table and sitting down as if the conversation didn't weigh on her at all. 

"My brothers are infused with dark magic," she said, her voice measured but pointed. "That magic makes them stronger than any wolf—even stronger than an Alpha. Do you really think you, a human, could defend yourself against monsters like them?" 

Her words lingered in the air like a challenge, and I felt the bitter truth creeping in. She wasn't just taking my life; she was keeping me out of it for reasons I couldn't entirely refute. 

My eyes darted to JC as he spoke, his voice calm but firm. "Haylie, we just want to help. We're the only ones who know how our brothers work." 

I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my breath, but it felt like the walls were closing in on me. The air around me was suffocating. Without a word, I took a step back, then another, retreating from the kitchen. 

 My feet carried me into the living room, where I sank to the floor in front of the fireplace. Pulling my knees to my chest, I stared into the flickering flames. 

The warmth of the fire was the only solace in the storm of emotions raging inside me. 

"I know this isn't easy," JC's voice came softly from behind me. 

I didn't turn to look at him, my gaze fixed on the burning fire. "You don't know the half of it," I whispered, my voice trembling. 

I felt his presence as he moved closer, sitting beside me on the floor. Still, I didn't meet his eyes. My heart was heavy, a tangled knot of emotions I didn't know how to unravel or express. 

"I may not fully understand what you're going through," he said, his tone gentle, "but I know , all of this is to protect you from that monster and to spare your life." 

At his words, I turned my gaze to him, tears burning in my eyes. "Then why do I feel so lonely? I miss home so much," I choked out, the tears slipping down my cheeks. 

JC's expression softened as he reached out, his warm fingers brushing away my tears with a tenderness that made my chest ache. "I know you miss home," he said quietly. "But I promise, as soon as this is over, I'll take you back. I'll take you home." 

His words, though meant to comfort, only deepened the ache inside me. Yet, his presence, steady and unwavering, kept me from completely breaking apart. 

I felt his arms fold around me and at first I wanted to break loose and run but then I felted so lost and was dying for someone to hold me. His body was warm when he pulls me closer and held me against his chest. He was not Liam and I could smell the wolf scent on him but that moment he was the only one here and I needed a hug. I don't know when will I be able to return home but I know that I miss the people I love back home. 

Writers POV 

The next day, Liam found himself consumed with a single thought: exposing the truth about Haylie. If she was who she claimed to be, his relationship with her could be irreparably damaged—but it was a risk he was willing to take. 

 He had to tread carefully, though; any misstep could cost him everything. 

As weeks passed, the differences became more glaring. The more time he spent with her, the more he realized how, unlike the woman he'd fallen in love with she had become. 

She no longer ate meat and, strangely enough, seemed to dislike pizza—a food Haylie used to adore. Pizza had been her favorite, and it was something she'd even convinced him to enjoy despite his initial reluctance. 

But the changes weren't just in her habits. 

 Intimacy had become unrecognizable too. She was rough—too rough—and insatiable, wanting to do it everywhere without restraint. 

 Liam found himself recoiling from the intensity. This wasn't the sweet, tender Haylie he knew. The Haylie he had fallen in love with had a gentleness about her. 

Now, he bore marks on his neck where she had playfully bitten him, something the old Haylie would never have done. 

Melody reveled in the deception, savoring every moment she spent as Haylie. At first, it had been about survival, but now, feelings for Liam had begun to take root, clouding her intentions. 

 She craved his affection, his love, even if it was born from a lie. 

But being Haylie required more than mimicry—it demanded knowledge. Using black magic, Melody siphoned Haylie's memories, pulling fragments of her life into her own mind. Each spell brought her closer to becoming the perfect copy, but it came at a cost. 

Every use of black magic left a mark. Her fingernails turned jet black, as did her toenails. Dark veins began to creep across her neck, forming a sinister pattern. 

 Melody knew the truth: every witch who used black magic bore its scars. Once the mark was complete, her heart would wither, and her soul would be consumed. She would become a dark witch—a creature of pure evil. 

Still, she pressed on, willing to risk everything to maintain the illusion. 

Meanwhile, Liam's doubts had grown into an unrelenting storm. This woman, despite her outward appearance, wasn't the Haylie he knew. 

Everything about her felt... wrong. Her habits, her demeanor, her very essence—it all seemed off. 

Some nights, Liam couldn't sleep, his wolf restless and agitated within him. He tossed and turned, plagued by questions with no answers. Who was this woman? And, more importantly, where was the real Haylie? 

He couldn't share his suspicions openly. Haylie's aunt, a trusted figure in their lives, was convinced there was nothing amiss. She believed Melody's facade without question. 

Laim needed someone he could trust—someone who could help him unravel this mystery. Yet, as the days passed, the weight of his doubts grew heavier, pulling him closer to a breaking point. 

Melody POV 

It had been three months since I started living as Haylie. Thanks to black magic, I could extract fragments of her memories and make them mine. It was a necessary step, especially to keep up appearances. 

Even the small details mattered—like the bracelet Haylie had given Liam, which he cherished for its sentimental value. I wore it on my wrist now, an anchor to keep Liam's trust. 

Haylie had a way with him, an innocence that melted his heart. I tried to emulate that, to be soft and sweet like she was. But sometimes, when Liam looked so impossibly good, my restraint faltered. I wanted to pounce on him like a predator, devouring every bit of him in my hunger. 

My brothers hadn't stopped trying to attack me. They came when I least expected it, preying on moments of vulnerability. 

 Thankfully, black magic kept me safe. I left marks of my own on them, ensuring they paid for every attempt. 

Three months and a week into this life of pretense, my body betrayed me. That morning, I was hunched over the toilet, heaving until my stomach was empty. My head pounded, and my entire body ached. 

Was it the food Liam and I had eaten last night at the restaurant for our anniversary? Or was it something worse—a stomach bug? 

The hours dragged on, and I spent most of the morning by the toilet, weak and trembling. 

A knock came at the bathroom door. "Haylie, are you okay?" Aunt Camelia's voice was gentle but concerned. 

I forced myself to respond, barely lifting my head. "I'm fine, don't worry." 

But I wasn't fine. I needed to fix this. Drawing on the last of my strength, I began chanting the ancient words to heal myself with black magic. 

Warmth flooded my body, and within seconds, I felt normal again, as if nothing had happened. 

A satisfied smile crept onto my lips, but it quickly faded when I remembered the cost. My hand shot to my neck. 

I scrambled to the mirror, pushing my hair aside. The black mark had spread further, the sinister pattern snaking across my skin. My chest tightened at the sight. 

"Damn it," I muttered. I'd have to cover it again with makeup. 

The price of black magic was steep, but I didn't have the luxury of stopping now. Not when the illusion had to remain perfect. 

Thankfully, when I stepped out of the bathroom, Aunt Camelia was nowhere to be seen. 

Relief washed over me. I wasn't in the mood for her overprotectiveness today. She meant well, but having grown up without a mother, her constant hovering was overwhelming at times. 

I headed to my room and opened the cupboard, searching for something to wear. I had a date with Claudine—a little girl time. Over the past three months, she'd grown on me, and I found her easy to be around. She was cool, and oddly enough, I enjoyed her company. 

My fingers skimmed over the hangers until they stopped on a dress that stood out. According to Haylie's memories, this had been her mother's dress, something sentimental and special. I decided to wear it today. 

Learning to avoid black clothing had been a challenge—Haylie wasn't one to dress in dark colors. 

 So, I'd adjusted, adopting her style and blending seamlessly into her world. Once dressed, I went to the mirror, grabbed my makeup, and began the familiar task of covering the black mark creeping along my neck. 

"Damn this mark," I muttered under my breath, frustration bubbling to the surface. 

 I knew what it meant, and how it symbolized the changes black magic was making to my body and soul. My heart was slowly turning black, the price of using dark power. But what choice did I have? 

Sometimes, I used black magic to weaken my brothers, secretly siphoning their strength and speed. 

 It made them less dangerous, but it wasn't enough. I needed a spell strong enough to erase Haylie from their memories entirely, to stop their relentless hunt for her. 

When I finished dressing and applying my makeup, I examined myself in the mirror. 

The mark was hidden, and my appearance was flawless—Haylie's image was staring back at me. With a practiced smile, I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs. 

Every step felt like a performance, a carefully constructed lie. Yet, for now, it was a lie I had to live. 

JC POV 

I woke up early, the first rays of dawn barely breaking through the curtains, and slipped out of bed quietly. 

 It had become routine now—to make breakfast for the two of us before the day began. The house was silent, and as I made my way to Haylie's room, I hesitated at the door. Slowly, I pushed it open just enough to peek inside. 

She was still asleep, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Even in slumber, there was something captivating about her—a softness that I couldn't ignore. These past three months, she'd started to earn my trust bit by bit. We'd talked more, gone shopping together, and explored the town. 

 Every shared moment made my feelings for her grow stronger, even though I tried to bury them deep. She loved Liam, and I was no match for him. 

I closed the door as quietly as I'd opened it and headed to the kitchen. The familiarity of the space grounded me as I gathered the cooking equipment. Breakfast had become my task, partly because Haylie couldn't cook to save her life and partly because it gave me a sense of purpose. 

She'd help with the cleaning afterward, not that there was much to clean, but we found ways to settle into this charade. 

To the outside world, we were a newlywed couple. I'd even given her a fake ring to complete the illusion. My sister had taken it a step further, using her magic to cloak Haylie in a wolf's scent. It was a clever touch—enough to fool others into believing she wasn't human. 

I cracked some eggs into a bowl, the sound of the whisk breaking the stillness. As the food began to sizzle on the stove, I couldn't help but think about how far we'd come. 

Pretending to be husband and wife wasn't easy, but we'd managed to make it work. 

Still, there was an ache I couldn't shake—a longing I couldn't voice. Watching her slip into this life, pretending to be something she wasn't, only made me wish things were different. But for now, all I could do was keep my feelings hidden and focus on the task at hand. 

The aroma of breakfast filled the air as I plated the food. Today would be another day of pretending, of trying to fit into a town that wasn't ours, and of guarding a secret that could shatter everything. 

The smell of scrambled eggs filled the air as I stirred the pan, the rhythmic sound of the spatula against the skillet grounding me in the moment. I didn't have to turn around to know she was awake—I felt her presence the moment she entered the kitchen. 

A soft yawn escaped her lips, and she mumbled, "Good morning." 

Glancing over my shoulder, I couldn't help but smile. Her messy red hair was a wild halo around her sleepy face, her eyes barely open as she shuffled toward the cupboard by the kettle. 

"Good morning," I replied, the warmth in my voice betraying how much I loved seeing her like this. There was something about the way she looked right after waking up—adorably disheveled and entirely unguarded—that tugged at something deep within me. 

Living with Haylie had been a learning experience. Aside from my sister, I'd never shared a home with a woman before, and Haylie was nothing like her. She was soft, kind-hearted, and at times incredibly moody—especially during that time of the month. 

When it happened, I had to be extra cautious. We lived in a town of wolves, and wolves didn't experience such things. 

 The scent alone was enough to make me nauseous, though I did my best to manage it. She was human, after all—different from me in every way. 

But those differences were part of what made her so fascinating. She was teaching me things I never thought I'd need to know, about her world and mine. And somehow, despite the challenges, we were making it work. 

As she moved about the kitchen, preparing her tea, I found myself watching her out of the corner of my eye. 

 There was something about the way she carried herself, even in the simple act of boiling water, that held my attention. 

I returned my focus to the eggs, stirring them absently. Every day with her was a lesson—sometimes in patience, sometimes in understanding, but always in how deeply she was beginning to mean to me.