Page 92 of Knot Their Arrangement

Better to die standing than live forever on my knees.

Acceptance doesn't stop the tears.

If anything, surrendering to my fate opens a floodgate I've been holding back for years. My hands press against my face as sobs wrack my body, the sound mixing with the storm's fury.

This is my wake, I realize. I'm mourning myself while I'm still alive enough to feel it.

My thoughts drift to what comes after. Will my goddess grant me another chance? Force my soul back into the cycle of rebirth? The idea holds both terror and hope – terror that I might face this same oppression again, hope that next time might be different.

Maybe in my next life, I'll be born into love.

I imagine it:a family that celebrates my existence rather than seeing me as a burden to be traded. Parents who hold me close instead of keeping me at arm's length, preparing me for eventual sale. A mother who teaches me to value myself rather than diminish my worth to please others.

The vision shifts to my brother, living his life of effortless privilege. How different would my story be if I'd been born male? If I'd been given the same opportunities, the same respect, the same right to exist without constant judgment and restriction?

My male cousins move through the world like they own it – because in many ways, they do.

Every door opens for them, every path lies clear before their feet. They never have to calculate the risks of walking alone at night or worry about the clothes they wear sending the "wrong message."

Maybe I should pray to be reborn male.

No expensive suppressants eating away at my savings. No need for specialized underwear that costs more than most people's monthly rent.

No heats to plan around, no slick to hide, no biological imperatives to fight against.

Just...freedom.

Pure, simple freedom to exist without constantly watching over my shoulder.

The thought brings fresh tears as I realize all the simple pleasures I'll never experience.

I'll never know what it feels like to truly embrace my femininity without fear – to wear beautiful clothes because they make me feel powerful rather than because they mark me as someone's property.

I'll never experience the joy of capturing candid moments with my Alphas, preserving those precious instances when they're lost in their passions and interests. Never curl up in a nest of their combined scents, sharing lazy afternoons of reading or gaming or simply existing together in comfortable silence.

Such simple things.

Even something as basic as family dinner – saying grace together, sharing meals and conversation as equals, building the kind of bonds that can't be measured in dowries or business contracts. These ordinary moments that most people take for granted now feel like impossible luxuries.

The rain continues its relentless assault, but I barely feel it anymore.

My body has gone numb, accepting this final baptism as my tears mix with the storm.

"Devi Maa,"I whisper, addressing my goddess with the familiar term of endearment used in prayers. "If you grant me another life after this one, could I just...could I have a few days as a true Omega? Just enough time to know what it feels like to be valued for who I am rather than what I can provide?"

A few days of genuine love.

Of being cherished rather than possessed.

Of experiencing all those little moments that romance novels describe so beautifully – morning kisses and shared laughter and the simple joy of belonging to a pack that sees me as a person rather than a prize.

Is that too much to ask?

The approaching figures are closer now, their outlines blurred by rain and tears.

I keep my hands pressed to my face, partly to contain my sobs, partly because I don't want to see what form my end will take.

Will it be the masked killer, come to finish what they started with Maharaja? Or the strangers I glimpsed, perhaps drawn by my cries?

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