Page 2 of Cursed Love

I had to pick myself up. I had to clean myself up. Scrubbing until my skin was raw, until the blood was gone, until the bruises looked like nothing more than shadows. But nothing could scrub away the shame, the rage, the hollow ache in my chest. I buried it all, shoved it so far down I thought maybe—just maybe—I could forget. I was wrong.

Even now, years later, it clings to me like a second skin. The idea of trusting someone, of giving them a piece of me... it feels impossible. How do I let someone hold my heart when I know they could crush it without a second thought? How do I look at someone and not wonder what they’re hiding behind their smile? Every time I think about it, I can feel the bile rising in my throat, the memories whispering, reminding me what happens when I let my guard down.

And then there were the doctor’s appointments. Endless, sterile rooms with their too-bright lights and their pitying looks. “I’m sorry, Miss Koa,” they’d say, voices soft, too soft, like it would make the words hurt less. “It’s unlikely you’ll ever conceive.” Unlikely. What a pretty little word to disguise the truth. They didn’t have to say it outright. I knew what they meant. Broken. That’s what I am.Broken.

I’ve tried everything—herbal remedies, experimental treatments, even prayer, though I’m not exactly the praying type. Nothing worked. The idea of being someone’s Omega, of being cherished, of building a family... it feels like a cruel joke. A dream dangled just out of reach, only to be snatched away. Andyet, the world expects me to be grateful, to smile, and accept my place with open arms.

But I won’t. I refuse to just be someone’s Omega. I’m not going to be a pretty little thing they can mold and control. I’ve been on scent blockers and heat suppressants for as long as I can remember. It’s the only way to keep myself safe, to keep myself free. Without them, I’d be vulnerable, falling into someone’s lap, trapped in a life I didn’t choose. I won’t let that happen. Not again.

The house comes into view, its warm lights spilling out onto the street. It looks inviting, like it’s reaching out to me, offering solace. But I know better. Warm lights don’t chase away the cold inside. A roof doesn’t shelter me from my own mind. I pause at the edge of the driveway, not wanting to go inside and face what comes next.

Koa

I step inside, the door clicking shut behind me, and I’m immediately hit with the suffocating scent of sweet tobacco. Damien. My shoulders slump before I even see him and my nose turns up in disgust at the way it drenches everything in this fucking home, my room the only safe space I have left. Of course, he’s waiting, probably pacing the living room like a rabid dog, ready to pounce.

He always has to be the biggest man in the room, the most important, theloudest.“Koa!” His voice slices through the quiet as if he isn’t the son of a blue-collar worker. The snarl thatfollows reminds me of my place in this house and in society, my shoulder slumping even further.

Valla might be everyone else’s nightmare but Damien is mine.

I don’t even make it past the entryway before he’s in my face, towering over me like I’m some disobedient pup. His scent is overwhelming, suffocating, and I have to fight the urge to recoil. My fingers curl into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms as I brace myself.

“You think this is a game?” he spits, his voice rising with every word. “Do you think we’re doing this for fun? After tonight, you’re going to pull your weight like a good little Omega and stop embarrassing this family.”

I flinch, but I keep my chin up. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower. My coat slips from my shoulders, pooling on the floor, but I don’t bother picking it up. It’s not worth the effort.

“Pull my weight?” I mutter under my breath, unable to stop the words from slipping out.

“What did you just say?” His tone drops and I know I’ve stepped on a landmine. His eyes narrow, and for a split second, I swear I see the vein in his temple pulse. “Speak up, Koa. Since you suddenly have so much to say.”

I bite my tongue, swallowing the bitter retort that’s clawing its way up my throat. Damien doesn’t actually want me to talk—he wants me to submit. He wants me to bow my head like Carla, to be the perfect little Omega he can parade around. I glance past him, my eyes landing on her, sitting at the dining table with her head bowed, her hands neatly folded in her lap.

Of course, she doesn’t say a word. Not even a glance in my direction. Submissive as always. The picture-perfect Omega. My stomach churns at the sight, a spark of resentment flaring to life. She could say something but she never does. I’m alone in this house, always have been.

“No Alpha wants to hear your whimsical ideas,” Damien continues, stepping closer, crowding me until my back hits the wall. “Keep all those wild thoughts in your head where they belong. Stop trying to act like you’re more than what you are. You’re an Omega, Koa. Start acting like it.”

I refuse to let him see how much those words hurt. My nails dig deeper into my palms, the sting grounding me, giving me something to hold on to.

“You’ll wear the dress we bought for you,” he growls out, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’ll smile, you’ll be polite and you’ll do what’s expected of you. And after tonight, you’ll start producing Alpha children, like a proper Omega should.”

My stomach twists and bile rises in my throat. Producing Alpha children. Like that’s all I’m good for. Like I’m nothing more than a vessel for his expectations for this family’s legacy. My eyes dart to Carla again, silently begging her to say something, to intervene. But she stays silent, her gaze fixed on the table.Useless.

I force myself to breathe, even as my chest tightens. Damien finally steps back, giving me enough space to move, but his eyes are still on me, like he’s waiting for me to step out of line.

“Sit down,” he barks, gesturing to the table. “Eat dinner.”

I hesitate, just for a moment, but his glare hardens, and I know better than to push it. My feet feel like lead as I drag myself to the table, sinking into the chair across from Carla. The food looks amazing—Carla's dinners always are. She has this knack for making even the simplest meal look like something from a five-star restaurant.

But I’m not in the mood to eat. My fork scrapes against the porcelain plate, pushing a perfectly roasted piece of chicken into a pile of untouched mashed potatoes. I’m picking at it like a petulant child, like this is all just some cruel joke and not my last dinner before the gallows. That’s what it feels like—a final meal.Not the start of somebeautiful new chapterlike my father keeps harping on about.

Damien’s voice drones on, something about how I should be grateful. About how some Alphas are willing to look past my faults. Carla glances at me from across the table, sympathy etched in her soft Omega features. Her pity makes me want to scream. Even her sons, those perfect little Alpha prototypes, sit there in silence, probably wondering why Aunt Koa can’t just be normal.

My father clears his throat and the air in the room shifts. He’s an imposing Alpha, even in his old age. A relic of a time when Omegas were property and nothing more. To him, I’m still just that—a commodity. A defective one.

“You will find a mate tonight,” he states, “or you’ll choose the one Damien picked out for you.”

My stomach clenches. Of course, Damien has someone lined up. He always does. Some rich prick who’ll throw a bone at our family name in exchange for an Omega, no matter how broken. My fork scrapes against the plate again, the sound sharp enough to make Carla flinch.

“And if I don’t?” My voice is barely above a whisper, but it cuts through the tension.

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