Page 5 of Knot My Wonderland

Inside my apartment, I tossed my phone onto the couch and kicked off my damp boots. The familiar creak of the floorboards and the low hum of the old radiator wrapped around me like a fraying blanket.

Safe. Predictable. The life I'd always been told I should want. But standing there, I realized that safety felt a lot like being trapped. And maybe... maybe I was tired of pretending it was enough.,

Chapter Two

Alice

My alarm shrieked at seven-thirty, dragging me out of sleep like a fishhook catching skin. I fumbled blindly on my nightstand, knocking over a half-empty water bottle and my earbuds before finally silencing it.

For a moment, I just sat there, staring at nothing. The room felt colder this morning, somehow — not the kind of cold you could blame on the weather. I rubbed my hands over my face and told myself to move. Coffee first. Then I could pretend to be a functioning human being. I tugged on a pair of worn jeans, a hoodie two sizes too big, and scraped my hair into a messy bun. My reflection in the mirror looked about how I felt: rumpled, unimpressed, and entirely unready for whatever the day had planned.

Down the hall, the apartment smelled faintly of stale toast and the lavender candle I kept forgetting to blow out. I filled my travel mug to the brim with coffee, ignored the two unansweredtexts from my mom lighting up my screen, and bolted out the door before I could lose my nerve.

Outside, the mist that had clung to the streets yesterday had completely disappeared. The world was crisp, the sun sharp against the sidewalk, and the air smelled like fresh-cut grass and gasoline. No mystery. No shadowy figures. Just another Wednesday pretending to be a Saturday.

Classes blurred together, one after another. English Lit should’ve been easy — I liked reading — but I spent half the lecture doodling vines and stars in the margins of my notebook. Econ was worse. I couldn’t even pretend to care about supply and demand when my brain kept replaying last night's conversation with my parents. Their voices, sweet and heavy with disappointment, gnawed at me:

"Are you even trying to find an Alpha, Alice?"

"You can't just wait forever, sweetheart. You have to put yourself out there."

"Think about your future. About stability. About what’s expected of you."

I bit the inside of my cheek and scribbled another mindless doodle. Iwasthinking about my future. Constantly. It wasn’t my fault I didn’t want the same one they kept trying to force down my throat.

By noon, my stomach was practically trying to eat itself, and the cafeteria was the only real option. I shoved my notebook into my bag and trudged across campus, mentally preparing myself for a sad lunch alone.

And that’s when I saw her.

Mara was perched on the low brick wall just outside the cafeteria, scrolling through her phone with an air of complete, casual disinterest. She wore ripped jeans, scuffed boots, and a jacket covered in patches I didn’t recognize. Her dark hair waspulled into two messy braids, and she looked like she could not have cared less about the world spinning around her.

I hadn't texted her this morning. We hadn’t made any plans. Still, when she caught me staring, she grinned like she'd been waiting for me all along.

"Hey, stranger," she called, pocketing her phone.

"Hey," I said, lifting my hand in a weak wave. "What are you doing here?"

"Supposed to be writing a paper," she said, hopping down from the wall. "But honestly? Screw that. You heading in?"

"Yeah," I said. "I was just gonna grab something quick."

Mara shrugged. "Mind if I tag along?"

I didn’t even have to think about it. "Please."

Inside, the cafeteria smelled like melted cheese and fried everything. The line was short —thank god— and we grabbed trays like we had a mission. Mara made gagging noises at the healthier options and steered us toward burgers and curly fries without even pretending to consider anything else.

"Nutritious and delicious," she said, balancing two baskets of food on her tray.

"Mostly just suspicious," I muttered, earning a snort from her. We found a table near the window, where the sun warmed the scratched plastic surface and made everything look less... institutional. I dumped ketchup onto my tray with zero shame and took a giant bite of my burger.

"So," Mara said around a mouthful of fries, "you looked like someone drop-kicked your soul this morning. Spill."

I wiped my mouth on a napkin, debating for half a second whether to dodge the question. But honestly? I was too tired to fake it.

"My parents called last night," I said.

Mara's expression immediately shifted, her joking tone softening. "Ah. Parent Talk. That bad, huh?"

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