Bound by fate to the future Alpha.

**Chapter Six: Humiliation-Malia's POV**

As my hands touch the door to open it, a nervous flutter ignites in the pit of my stomach. Memories of anxious moments flood my mind, and yet, I find myself stepping inside, determined to confront whatever awaits me. Once through the threshold, I glance around the cozy restaurant, my heart sinking when I notice Blake is not here yet. A waitress, warm and attentive, escorts me to a booth, setting down menus that feel like mere distractions from the swirling thoughts in my head. I order just a water, trying to quell the anxiety that churns within me.

In the stillness, my mind spirals with questions: What will we talk about? Does he find me attractive? Has he mentioned this meeting to anyone? The seconds stretch into what feels like an eternity, and by 7:30 PM, I can no longer ignore the quiet silence of my phone—no messages, no missed calls. Frustration wells up inside me, and just as I consider reaching for my messenger app, I'm jolted by the unmistakably shrill voice of Kirsty. Of course, she would choose tonight, of all nights, to waltz into the restaurant, her entourage of friends—Rachel, Lola, and Trish—flanking her like an obnoxious parade. My heart races as I slump lower in my seat, praying she won't see me. Still, my hopes are dashed when her loud laughter echoes through the air.

The simmering anxiety bubbles into outright panic as I decide to excuse myself for a moment, hoping to escape the suffocating atmosphere. But just before I reach the restroom door, Kirsty's voice cuts through my thoughts like a knife, demanding to know why I'm there. I briefly consider ignoring her taunts, but my patience snaps like a taut wire. I shoot back, my voice steady despite the tremors inside, "Will you just shut up? I don't care what you think!" The shocked silence that follows is almost palpable, but she quickly recovers, mocking my presence, suggesting that Blake wouldn't want to show up for someone like me. Laughter erupts around us, and I feel the heat of humiliation wash over me.

Then, in a moment that feels like an out-of-body experience, I’m drenched in a drink she deliberately spills, her insincerity dripping off her sarcastic words. "Oops! I slipped, sorry about your dress!" she cackles, prompting a chorus of laughter that slices through my heart. I’ve reached my limit. The combination of anger, despair, and the sting of betrayal sends me bolting from the restaurant, desperate for escape.

As I stumble into the rain that suddenly pours from the sky, I run—each drop heavy with the emotions I'm trying to outrun. I'm soaked to the bone, my thoughts racing: Was this all a cruel joke? Did Blake ever intend to show up? The realization crashes over me, and as I sprint homeward, an unnerving sensation spreads through me. I glance over my shoulder, feeling a chill as if someone lingers in the shadows, tracking my desperate flight. It takes me nearly forty-five minutes to finally reach my front door; the warmth of home feels distant and unwelcoming.

"How did it go?" my mum calls out, her voice a gentle inquiry that feels worlds away from my reality. I can barely process her question before I explode, "Not now, Mum!" The moment I reach my room, I slam the door and lock it, seeking solace in this small fortress. I slide down the door, surrendering to the tears I've fought so hard to hold back, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders.

After what feels like an eternity, I finally manage to pull myself off the cold, hard floor, shedding my wet clothes as if they were a second skin I can no longer bear. The enormity of the night crashes over me like a wave as I step into the shower. The water cascades down, warm and comforting, but I hardly notice. I catch my reflection in the mirror, and the question echoes cruelly in my mind: where has the beautiful girl from earlier gone? Am I really just a collection of Kirsty's biting words? The insecurities seep into my skin like the water, leaving me feeling exposed and diminished—an ugly nobody. I scrub furiously, the friction a desperate attempt to wash away not just the dirt but the humiliation that clings to me like a shadow.

Once wrapped in a pair of oversized pajamas, I collapse into bed, feeling the weight of anger and betrayal pressing down on me. Why couldn’t he even have the decency to send a message? What a coward. The thought alone ignites a fire in my chest, a fury that threatens to consume me. Then morning breaks, bringing with it a new and aggressive mindset: f**k the world. I dress in whatever I can grab, throwing my hair into a messy bun, as if to signal that today I might just be a different version of me—the tougher Malia.

I set off toward where I usually meet the girls, but dread washes over me. I can't face the onslaught of questions today; it's too raw, too fresh. Their incessant calls go unanswered as I hit reject on my phone, sending a simple message that feels like a cop-out—"Meet you guys at school." I need space, solitude to clear my muddled thoughts. As I walk, the familiar landscape seems duller than usual, perhaps reflecting the turmoil inside. Halfway there, the feelings of last night creep back, tightening around my chest like a vise. I quicken my pace, each footfall echoing my desperation until I see other students nearby, their presence providing a sliver of safety.

Suddenly, I hear the roar of a motorbike engine, and the violently invasive sound makes my skin crawl. Who could it be? Of course, it's Blake, with his charming, infuriating ways. His voice cuts through my anger like a knife: “Malia, I’m so sorry for yesterday. I got caught up and had no way to let you know.” The familiarity of it riles me further. “Just piss off,” I snap back, refusing to let his words seep in.

“Let me make it up to you. At least let me give you a ride to school,” he pleads, his tone shifting to something deeper, more commanding. “Just get on the bike, Malia… now.” My blood boils. I won’t be ordered around. “You arrogant arsehole! I’m not your property! Humiliating me yesterday wasn't enough? Is this just a game to you?” I scream, the emotion spilling out in a rush. With a bruised ego, he revs the engine and speeds off, leaving me shaking but relieved. I take a deep breath, grateful for the distance, but the battle inside me continues, the sense of safety still tenuous at best.