Harper pov
I decided to try a new ponytail style, but I couldn’t concentrate on it. The messy Cinderella look isn’t my issue; it’s the lengthy process of putting my hair up that feels overwhelming.
Standing in front of the mirror, I was frustrated by my wild hair. My mind was racing with distractions, making it hard to focus on this straightforward task. Creating a neat ponytail felt like a daunting challenge that required the concentration and patience I just didn’t have.
I let out a sigh, feeling the weight of my restlessness. My hands hovered over my hair, unsure of where to start. The tangled mess reflected my chaotic thoughts. I grabbed a strand, only to watch it slip away like sand.
“Ugh!” I shouted, my frustration filling the room.
I inhaled deeply, trying to quell the turmoil inside me. My gaze fixed on my reflection, searching for a spark of resolve. Gradually, my fingers began to work, gently unraveling a knot. The sensation was calming, and I concentrated on each strand slipping through my fingertips.
As I continued, my thoughts drifted back to the argument with Sarah from the day before. My hands hesitated, and I felt the ponytail start to loosen.
“No, no, no!” I whispered, frustration rising.
I stepped back, closed my eyes, and took another deep breath. This time, I envisioned the perfect ponytail sleek, neat, and secure. That image filled me with purpose. I opened my eyes and, with renewed determination, started over.
One strand at a time, I meticulously untangled the mess. The act became meditative, my fingers moving with a gentle touch. As the ponytail began to form, a sense of achievement welled up inside me.
At last, I secured the final loose hair and tightened the elastic. Stepping back, I admired my creation. The ponytail wasn’t flawless, but it was mine a testament to my ability to bring order to chaos, if only for a brief moment.
A small smile appeared on my lips, and I felt a surge of pride. Perhaps I could face the rest of my day with the same determination.
A gentle voice filled with anticipation broke the silence.
“My lady, breakfast is ready. Alpha Ethan and Ma’am Alessia are waiting for you at the table.”
The voice pulled me from my moment of solitude, and I turned to see our butler, Jenkins, standing in the doorway, his eyes twinkling with amusement. His words served as a reminder of the life waiting beyond my reflection.
“Thank you,” I said, smoothing my dress.
As I followed him down the stairs, the enticing scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air, making my stomach rumble with hunger.
Entering the dining room, I was met with the warm smiles of Alpha Ethan and Ma’am Alessia. Ethan occupied the head of the table, his striking blue eyes crinkling with a smile. Alessia sat to his right, her silver hair glistening in the morning light.
“Good morning, everyone,” I greeted, taking a seat next to Alessia.
“Good morning, dear,” Alessia responded, giving my hand a gentle pat. “You look lovely today. The ponytail really suits you.”
Ethan’s gaze lingered on me, his expression contemplative. “You seem more… at peace today. Did you find your calm?”
I nodded, feeling warmth spread across my cheeks. “Just a small victory, but it’s a start.”
The pack worker poured coffee and served breakfast while the conversation flowed naturally, covering pack matters and the approaching full moon. Ethan spoke with an undercurrent of tension, a reminder of the obstacles we faced as a pack.
Alessia’s eyes shone with warmth as she recounted tales from our pack’s past, her voice creating a sense of unity and strength. I listened, captivated, feeling the connections within our pack grow stronger.
As breakfast came to an end, Ethan pushed his chair back with a fluid, powerful motion. “Today’s training will concentrate on defense strategies. Meet me in the courtyard at nine.”
I nodded, a mix of excitement and nerves coursing through me. Training with Ethan was always intense, but I was eager to prove my worth.