Page 3 of Knot My Wonderland

Chapter One

Alice

Three Days Earlier

If I had to pick a word to describe my life, it would bepredictable. Not bad, not tragic—just... safe.Tidy. A life organized into neat boxes of responsibilities, goals, and polite smiles, each day slipping quietly into the next like pearls on an invisible thread.

I lived in a small apartment on the third floor of a building that always smelled vaguely of old books and lemon cleaner. The floorboards creaked when you walked too close to the window, and the heater rattled when it kicked on, but it was mine.It was safe.

My alarm shrieked through the stillness at exactly seven-thirty, pulling me out of a dream I couldn't quite remember.I groaned into my pillow, reaching out with a blind hand to slap the snooze button. The world outside my window was a smudged painting of grays and mist, the city cocooned in a light, persistent drizzle. The rain carried a cool, earthy scent through the cracked window—wet asphalt, fresh soil, and something faintly metallic.

I dragged myself out of bed, my bare feet flinching against the cold floor. The mirror caught my reflection as I trudged into the bathroom: messy waist-length blond hair tangled around my face, skin pale under the harsh fluorescent light, and a sweater hanging off one shoulder like a disheveled flag of surrender.

"Another glamorous day," I muttered, twisting my hair into a sloppy bun. The water sputtered in the sink before gushing into my cupped hands, the rush of it loud in the still apartment. I splashed my face, savoring the sharp, clean chill against my skin, trying to shake off the lingering drowsiness.It didn't help much.

I dressed in layers—my favorite navy blue sweater, jeans worn soft at the knees, and boots scuffed from too many rainy days. Clothes that whisperedblend in. Outside, the city vibrated with the muted buzz of early commuters. Umbrellas bloomed against the wet sky like bright paper lanterns. Car tires hissed over slick streets, and the air smelled like roasting coffee beans from the corner café mixed with the chemical bite of wet concrete.

I slipped into the flow of bodies moving toward the university, my steps mechanical.

"Morning, Alice!" called Mrs. Devens from the newsstand, her voice as raspy as the newspaper pages she sold.

"Morning," I replied, tucking my chin into my sweater against the drizzle. It was all so normal.Comfortable, even. And yet, beneath the routine, a restless itch crawled along my skin, just beneath the surface. As if some invisible clock was ticking down to something I couldn’t see yet.

Classes were exactly what I expected—mind-numbing lectures in beige rooms that smelled faintly of old chalk and burnt coffee.

Psychology 101 was first.

I slumped into a seat at the back of the lecture hall, blinking blearily as Professor Halton droned about cognitive bias and decision-making processes.The overhead lights buzzed softly, their sterile glow making everything feel flat and distant.

"You paying attention?" Mara whispered beside me, nudging my arm with the end of her pen.

I lifted my head, feigning alertness. "Of course. Bias. Cognition. Fascinating stuff."

Mara smirked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Sure. Your doodles of angry cats in the margins really capture the spirit of the lecture." I grinned, glancing down at my notebook where tiny cartoon felines bared their teeth and wielded swords.

"Art is subjective," I whispered back. Despite myself, I was grateful for her teasing.It anchored me, kept me from floating too far into the strange haze that had been clinging to me all morning. After class, I wandered the quad, hands shoved deep into my pockets. The rain had lightened to a mist so fine it clung to my eyelashes and seeped into my sweater fibers.

The trees lining the paths were skeletal now, their leaves long since fallen, their bare branches scratching at the low-hanging clouds like desperate fingers. Posters plastered every bulletin board and lamp post: bright ads for upcoming mixers, stress-relief workshops, dynamic support groups.

I paused in front of one.

"Celebrate All Dynamics! You Are More Than Your Secondary Gender!""Bonded, Unbonded, Alpha, Beta, Omega—All Welcome!"

I traced the edges of the poster with my eyes, feeling that strange pull again.That odd sense that something about the way things were supposed to be... didn't quite fit me anymore.

Presenting was about as exciting as getting your first driver's license. There was a whole ceremony at school. Little cards handed out by smiling counselors."You’re a Beta!""You’re an Alpha!""You’re an Omega!"Confetti if you were lucky. I remembered sitting cross-legged in the gym, knees scabbed, heart pounding as the nurse handed me my result.

Omega.

The world hadn’t ended. No one gasped or whispered behind their hands.I hadn't been dragged off to a tower or a gilded cage. Someone clapped me on the shoulder and said,"You’re still Alice. Now you just have to check a different box on forms."

I shook off the thoughts of the past out of my head and headed to the café. The rich aroma of coffee wrapped around me the moment I stepped inside, a comforting blanket against the damp.Steam clung to the windows, and the low hum of conversation filled the space.

I ordered a black coffee—no sugar or cream, I needed all the caffeine I could get—and settled into a corner booth, wrapping my hands around the warm paper cup. The seat was cracked leather, familiar and worn smooth from years of students like me hiding from the world for a little while longer. I sipped my coffee, letting the bitter heat chase away the last clinging tendrils of chill.

"Mind if I join you?" a voice asked. I glanced up to see Evan, the Alpha from my Psychology class. His jacket was dripping onto the floor, dark hair curling damply at his temples.

"Sure," I said, gesturing to the opposite seat. He slid in, setting his drink down carefully.For a few minutes, we chatted about nothing—classes, the rain, the crappy vending machines on campus.

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