The laughter came first bright and unrestrained, rolling out of the dining hall doors into the cool evening air. Abigail froze mid-step, the dirty cloth in her hand still dripping suds as she lingered by the edge of the corridor. She shouldn't stop. Omegas were expected to finish their chores quickly and without complaint, but the sound of that laughter pierced her chest in a way she couldn't ignore.
She edged closer, peering carefully through the slightly open doorway. Inside, the pack's higher families were gathered around long wooden tables. Plates piled with steaming meat and roasted vegetables passed from hand to hand, wine goblets clinked in cheer, and pups ran between the benches, squealing as their mothers tried to catch them.
Abigail's breath caught.
She watched as one little boy launched himself into his father's arms, his small head burying into the man's chest. The Alpha's Beta, seated at the table's end, ruffled his son's hair before leaning down to kiss his mate. Across from them, a young girl tugged on her mother's sleeve, begging for another sweet roll. The woman laughed, handing it over without hesitation, her eyes filled with nothing but love.
Abigail's throat tightened painfully. She pressed her hand against the wall, nails digging into the wood.
It had been years since she'd heard laughter directed at her. Years since arms had wrapped around her to shield her from the world. Her parents had been gone so long that sometimes she wondered if she'd imagined them. The only proof she had left were blurred memories of warm hands tucking her into bed, of lullabies hummed softly against her ear.
Now, she was no one's daughter. No one's sister. No one's anything.
Her gaze drifted to the Alpha's table at the center. Alpha Steve sat at the head, his posture proud, commanding without effort. His parents flanked him, conversing quietly with visiting pack members. On his right, Elenora laughed at something Adrian whispered, the two siblings leaning close like a pair of conspirators. The warmth between them was undeniable, as natural as breathing.
Abigail's heart twisted at the sight. To have siblings someone to protect her, someone to tease her, someone who belonged to her no matter what the world said what would that feel like?
She imagined herself slipping into that seat beside Elenora, joining their laughter. She imagined Adrian nudging her shoulder playfully, Elenora wrapping an arm around her back. For a moment, just a fragile heartbeat, she allowed herself to dream of being a part of it.
Then Selene's sharp laugh shattered the illusion.
The she-wolf leaned across the table, her hand brushing Steve's arm far too familiarly. Her friends giggled at her side, eyes darting toward the Alpha as though waiting for his approval. Steve barely glanced at her, his face unreadable, but Selene didn't seem to care. She thrived in the attention, even when it wasn't returned.
Abigail's stomach churned. Selene already had a family who adored her. She already had beauty, status, friends. And still, she wanted more. Still, she reached for the one thing that made Abigail's heart ache most of all.
The cloth slipped from Abigail's fingers, landing with a soft slap on the floor. She jumped at the sound, clapping a hand over her mouth. No one inside the hall noticed too caught up in their meals, their joy, their lives that didn't include her.
Slowly, Abigail backed away from the door.
She fled down the corridor, past the kitchens where the other omegas scrubbed dishes, past the servant quarters where laughter never reached. Her steps carried her outside into the night air, where the sky stretched endlessly above her, stars scattered like broken promises.
There, in the shadows of the pack house, she sank to the ground. Her knees drew up against her chest, her arms wrapping tightly around them as though she could hold herself together. Her throat burned, but she refused to cry. Tears solved nothing. Tears only made the others laugh harder.
Still, the words slipped out, soft and broken. "Why couldn't I have that? Just… one person. One family. One reason to matter."
The wind rustled through the trees in answer, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth. No warm hand reached for hers. No comforting voice whispered that she was loved.
Only silence.
Aria tilted her head back, staring up at the glowing moon. Her chest ached with longing so sharp it almost felt like pain. She wanted to believe that somewhere, someone could see her. That somewhere, someone might choose her.
But deep down, she knew the truth.
She was the orphan omega. The shadow in the corner. The one who watched life from behind half-closed doors, longing for what she could never have.
And no matter how much her heart yearned, the family she wished for would never be hers.