Chapter 1: The Love Curse and the Wolf's Tail

Evelyn and I are stuck in the mess of being married, but not in any way that feels like love. We're more like two bitter enemies forced to share a roof. I can't stand that he's half-werewolf, and I make sure he knows it—humiliating him every chance I get.

Honestly, just thinking about Ethan’s wolf tail makes my skin crawl. I wrinkle my nose and toss out, "Wow, your tail again? Looks like it just crawled out of a swamp. Ever think of using a brush?" The sarcasm drips off my words, but I don’t even try to hide it. Sometimes I wonder if he even notices anymore, or if he’s just numb to it—like a stray dog that’s learned not to flinch. The tail twitches, and for a second, I think I see him stiffen, but he stays silent. The air between us is so thick, I could choke on it. This cold war of ours—God, it never ends. I can’t remember a time when it wasn’t like this.

But then the chat—the comments section—told me that tomorrow, Ethan would lock me up and humiliate me, doing all the things he’d never dared before. All the stuff he secretly wanted.

I stared at the glowing words streaming across my phone, my heart skipping like a scratched record. Was this some kind of prank? Or was the universe just screwing with me for fun? We were supposed to be enemies, and yet the idea that he actually wanted to sleep with me—Ethan, of all people—was enough to make my stomach twist. Seriously? Him? No, not just him—of all creatures. I felt like I’d stumbled into the wrong timeline and everyone else got the memo but me.

I saw something possessive in Ethan’s eyes. The insult on my tongue stalled.

His gaze lingered, dark and sharp, like he was sizing me up for something more than another round of insults. My words caught. For a split second, there was something raw in his look—a hunger I’d never seen before. I swallowed, thrown off balance. Maybe it was the tension, maybe it was the chat’s prediction screwing with my head. My voice came out shaky. My brain short-circuited for a second—God, what was I even saying? “Every time I see you, I feel sick to my stomach...” I blurted, then, almost as a joke, almost as a dare, "Husband... am I pregnant?"

I hesitated, then blurted, "Actually, your tail is kind of... beautiful. Can I touch it?" The words tumbled out, half-joke, half-desperate attempt to break the tension. My heart pounded so hard I thought he’d hear it. I forced a smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice how my hands were shaking. God, I was shaking. The pause that followed was so long, I wanted to crawl under the bed and disappear.

The first time those weird chat messages floated in front of me, I was mid-swing—actually whipping Ethan, thanks to the damn love curse.

The whip cracked through the air, snapping against his skin with a sound that echoed off the walls. My grip was white-knuckled, breath coming in ragged bursts. I felt trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. It wasn’t me moving, not really—it was the curse. The chat hovered in my peripheral vision, taunting me with snarky comments and cryptic warnings. If anyone saw us like this, they’d think we were both insane—or worse. Maybe something even sicker.

Two years married and not once have we... you know.

Our wedding photos still sit on the mantle, dust gathering on the glass. Two years, and not once have we even tried to cross that line—not because we couldn’t, but because neither of us could stomach the idea. Our bedroom is split down the middle—his side a mess of books and worn-out clothes, mine pristine and untouched. We’re roommates in a haunted house. Tiptoeing around each other. Waiting for someone to snap.

He’s hung up on my old friend’s partner, and I’m obsessed with my old friend, Daniel. To make it clear: Ethan’s always got eyes for Daniel’s girlfriend, while I keep pining after Daniel himself. It’s a mess.

It’s a twisted triangle—like something out of a trashy soap opera, if it weren’t actually my life. Ethan’s eyes always linger a little too long on Daniel’s girlfriend, and I feel this weird stab—not for Ethan, but for the life I could’ve had. My own longing for Daniel is a dull ache, ever-present and impossible to ignore. Sometimes I catch myself thinking: This is so pathetic. But the ache never leaves.

Sometimes, late at night, I catch myself wondering if things could’ve been different. If we’d met under different circumstances, maybe we wouldn’t be so broken. But then the bitterness creeps in, and I remind myself: misery is the only thing we have in common. That’s all we’ve got.

I froze, staring at the chat.

The screen glowed with a new message. My hand hovered in the air, whip dangling. A chill ran down my spine. For a second, the world felt like it was holding its breath—waiting to see what I’d do next.

It said Ethan would imprison me and even... do that to me? Like, the full villain special.

The words replayed in my mind, looping until they sounded like a threat. I could almost hear the click of a lock, the scrape of chains. My skin prickled. For two years, he’s been cold as ice—like he hates me, through and through. And now he wants to claim me? The idea was terrifying—and, yeah, I hate to admit it, a little thrilling. Not that I’d ever say it out loud.

He must be trying to get revenge. Humiliate me. That’s all this is.

That’s gotta be it. There’s no way Ethan wants me for any other reason. I clenched my jaw, fury bubbling up inside. If he thinks he can turn the tables, he’s in for a rude awakening. Ha. Good luck, wolf boy.

My anger exploded. I swung at him, cursing him out loud.

Words spilled out like poison. "It's your fault I couldn't marry Daniel, and now I have to suffer through this curse every month!" My voice shook with rage. The whip cracked—missing his face by inches. For a split second, I almost wished I’d hit him harder. Anything to make him feel some of what I carry around inside.

Ethan's lips curled into a mocking smile.

That damn smirk. He didn’t even flinch. “What a shame. The antidote is me, not your precious Daniel.” His voice was low, almost taunting. I wanted to scream. Why did he always have to be so smug, so untouchable?

I raised the whip and struck near his stupidly handsome face, leaving a bloody mark.

The leather cracked against his skin—sharp, loud, satisfying. Blood welled up in a thin red line. For a second, I wondered if I’d gone too far. He didn’t even blink. That cold, infuriating calm made my blood boil.

His indifference just made me madder.

It was like he wanted to see how far I’d go, daring me to cross a line. My hands shook, but I refused to let him see any weakness. If he wanted a fight, I’d give him one.

"You really want to humiliate me, don’t you?" I sneered, shoving him to the ground. "Fine. Today I’ll show you what real humiliation is." Bare feet on his chest. I pressed down, feeling his heart pound. The roughness of his shirt scraped my skin. For a second, I felt almost powerful.

It was a wild, frantic rhythm—like he was scared, or maybe excited. I pressed down harder, testing his limits. Was I really doing this? For a second, I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Ethan grunted, his body tensing beneath me.

His chest heaved, muscles tightening under my foot. Sweat glistened on his skin, jaw clenched. I could see how much effort it took for him not to cry out. That vulnerability caught me off guard. I wasn’t ready for it.

"Let go of me." His voice was rough, barely more than a whisper. His breathing was ragged, and panic flashed in those deep blue eyes. I wanted to scream.

I saw it. Instantly.

Real fear. It jolted through me, but I pressed down harder, refusing to back off. Ethan’s face turned red, and he looked away—humiliated. It was the first time I’d ever seen him look so small, so defeated.

Just as I was starting to enjoy seeing Ethan’s weakness, the chat popped up again.

[Wow, the supporting female’s really rolling the dice tonight. Villain’s about to snap.]

[Girl, stop poking the bear! He pretends to hate it, but inside? He’s loving it.]

[Even if this is just some twisted marriage game, the villain’s suffering. He gave her his heart-protecting charm and wolf fang for her crush. No wonder he goes full dark mode and locks her up later.]

I never really believed those random chats that showed up out of nowhere.

But when I saw "heart-protecting charm," I shivered.

Because I really did take the heart-protecting charm and wolf fang from him. For Daniel. Yeah, I did that.

Daniel’s always wanted to run the local guild. He gets hurt a lot, so I took the toughest heart-protecting charm from Ethan to keep him safe.

I remember the night I crept into Ethan’s room, the charm cold and heavy in my hand as I tucked it into my pocket. Daniel’s safety always came first for me. Even now, I wonder if Ethan knew what I was up to—or if he just let me take it, because he’d already stopped caring. Guilt twisted in my stomach.

I’ve liked Daniel since childhood. Always hoped to marry him.

Back in high school, we’d sneak out to the playground at night, talking about our futures under the stars. I always pictured us together. But Daniel never looked at me that way. Not even once. God, it hurt.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t feel the same. So I got desperate—I cast a love curse on both of us. A matching set. Pathetic, right?

Desperation makes you do crazy things. I still remember that old, battered book I found in the library’s back room. The spell was supposed to bind us together, heart and soul. But magic never works out the way you want. Should’ve known better.

After the curse hit, we had to share a bed every month or suffer through pain like a thousand needles stabbing our hearts.

No normal person could take it. Not for long.

The pain was real—sharp, relentless, like my insides were being shredded. I’d lie awake, clutching my chest, wishing I could rip the curse out. But every month, the agony came back. Just a reminder of how far I’d fallen.

But that night, the person beneath me turned out to be Ethan.

When our clothes were off and the moonlight streamed through the blinds, I looked up—and it wasn’t Daniel. It was Ethan, eyes tinged red with want. The half-werewolf I’d bought off the black market. For a second, I thought I was dreaming—or maybe having a nightmare.

I stopped cold. Then slapped him, hard.

Ethan just laughed, not even mad. "Miss, didn’t you drug me for this?"

I tried to ignore the heat burning under my skin and ordered him out. I wouldn’t let him see me break.

But the love curse? It won’t break. I’ve tried everything. Nothing works. God, it’s so unfair.

All I could do was grit my teeth and marry Ethan—even though I hated every second of it.

After we got married, I could never accept him. Not just because he’s a supernatural, but because he started out as a slave I bought. The shame of it sticks to me like glue.

I’ve always been proud. I’d rather choke down wolf blood—anything to fight the curse and the pain—than ever admit I needed a werewolf.

My mother used to say, "A wolf can become a man, and a man can become a legend."

She saw something wild in Ethan right away—said maybe one day he’d be more than anyone expected. Maybe even a legend.

She backed our marriage from the start. In her will, she wrote: "Yesterday is gone, like the dead. You must seize Ethan."

But my heart was always with Daniel. He can’t stand supernaturals—especially the wolf clans, with that wild, wolfish vibe.

Because of that, I just couldn’t bring myself to like Ethan. Not ever.

Once, when the love curse flared up, Ethan—confused, desperate—hugged my leg, voice hoarse and pleading.