[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-my-sister-stole-my-mate-and-i-let-her":3,"chapter-my-sister-stole-my-mate-and-i-let-her-my-sister-stole-my-mate-and-i-let-her-chapter-240":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},764514,1010,"Chapter 240 SIMPLY EXISTING","my-sister-stole-my-mate-and-i-let-her-chapter-240",240,"\u003Cp>Maya had gone through the five stages of grief when I told her I was leaving.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Denial: “Absolutely not! You’re not leaving me again! Life is so fucking boring without you!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Anger: “I blame Kieran! I blame your fucking family! I blame you, dammit!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bargaining: “Okay. Can I come with you? I know it’s about self-discovery, but what if I don’t make a peep? You won’t even know I’m there.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Depression: “How am I supposed to survive without you? I’ll die before you return, Sera, die!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Acceptance: “Ugh, fine. Go. Can I at least throw you a send-off party?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I’d broken her heart by refusing. I didn’t want to drag things out, and I didn’t want to bear the strange, aching weight of goodbyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The morning I set off was disarmingly peaceful. Soft LA sunlight filtered through the curtains in warm ribbons, catching the dust motes floating lazily in the air.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The house was still, quiet enough that I could hear my own heartbeat—a steady, determined rhythm reminding me this was really happening.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My suitcase sat by the front door, neatly packed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inside were small pieces of everyone who cared about me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maya had slipped in an entire “anti-anxiety travel kit” including more good luck charm moonstones, herbal mints, a ridiculous lavender-scented neck pillow shaped like a llama for some reason, and a handwritten note that said, “If you make a new best friend, I’ll astral-project myself to smack you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Daniel had once again given me Wolfy. He didn’t make a big deal out of it—just shoved the plush into my hands the night before and muttered, “So you don’t get lonely.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d also made me a small compass out of scraps he must have found in Nightfang’s workshop. It wasn’t pretty, but the needle worked, and he’d tested it at least a dozen times before giving it to me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"So you always find your way back,\" he said, forcing a brave face that didn’t match his worried eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lucian had been vague during our goodbye, saying his gift couldn’t go through airport security and would be waiting for me when I got to my destination.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for Kieran...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Well, his concession was gift enough.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With those, and Alina’s steady warmth inside me, I felt prepared.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Well, as prepared as I could be.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>***\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The flight to Seattle was uneventful, the sky outside the window shifting from LA’s golden warmth to the muted, rain-washed grays of the Pacific Northwest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By the time the plane descended, the world below was a watercolor of mist-shrouded evergreens, glass buildings streaked with drizzle, and streets glistening like polished stone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The air that greeted me when I stepped out of the terminal was cool and damp, carrying the scent of pine and ocean salt, so different from LA’s dry sun and smog-tinged heat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The taxi ride downtown wound through narrow streets lined with cozy cafés, indie bookstores, and people bundled in layers despite it being barely autumn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The clouds hung low, as if the sky were brushing the tops of the buildings, and everything felt softer, quieter, more introspective.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When I arrived at the little street-corner café we’d agreed on, Elaine was already there, fidgeting with a bouquet that was far too extravagant for a casual welcome.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She spotted me instantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“SERAPHINA!” she squealed, nearly knocking over her own latte as she stood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I laughed and hugged her tightly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My editor and I had spoken hundreds of times over video calls, exchanged countless drafts, fought over deadlines, cried over character deaths, and swooned over happily-ever-afters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But meeting her in person felt surreal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She was shorter than I’d imagined. Brighter. A little fidgety, even though she tried to act composed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m so happy you made it,” she said breathlessly. “Oh! These are for you. And, here, this is from the team. And this is—right, careful, it’s heavy—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She piled gift after gift into my arms: a stack of customized journals, a custom fountain pen, a hand-knit scarf, fancy chocolates that smelled too rich even through the packaging.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You didn’t have to bring all this,” I protested.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She waved a hand dramatically. “You’re my bestselling author. You’re a major source of my Christmas bonus.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I snorted. “Fair enough.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The rest of the morning was a whirlwind of her excited rambling and my attempts not to get overwhelmed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Elaine was, in many ways, everything I admired about humans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Vibrant. Expressive. Unapologetically sentimental. Her emotions lived on the surface of her skin, bright and fleeting yet sincere.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She walked me through Pike Place Market, where the smell of fish and roasted coffee mingled in a way that was both strange and relaxing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We tried samples of local pastries, watched a man carve tiny soap sculptures, and took photos by the harbor, even though I usually hated posing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By noon, I felt lighter than I had in weeks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We passed a bookstore on our way to the art district.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I stopped in my tracks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My latest novel, Moonlit Pact, was still displayed in the front window, three copies stacked neatly beneath a handwritten recommendation card. Two customers stood beside it, flipping through the pages.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One woman murmured, “I swear her stories always give me this weird emotional boost.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The other nodded. “Right? Like they make me feel...seen.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Elaine grinned at me. “If I told them the author was standing right there, they’d faint.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I sputtered. “Do not.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, trust me, I won’t. I have no interest in being trampled to death by your fanbase.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We shared a laugh, but inside, something warm and steady settled in my chest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This—writing, creating worlds, guiding strangers through emotions I had once drowned in—was mine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One of the few things in my life that I had chosen for myself. Outside of expectations and pack politics and mate bonds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For dinner, Elaine insisted on taking me to an avant-garde restaurant that looked more like a gallery than a place where people ate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Each table was shaped differently. The lighting changed colors depending on where you stood. The menu was on a screen embedded in the table with animated illustrations. Every dish looked like modern art—and tasted like something an eccentric chef made on a dare.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But it was amazing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Humans around us laughed too loudly, flirted boldly, argued passionately about politics and poetry and whatever else mattered in their brief, blazing lives.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their emotions weren’t subtle. They weren’t hidden. They weren’t bound by instinct or hierarchy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were simply existing—freely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And I felt that freedom brushing against my skin, too, almost as if I could absorb some of it by sheer proximity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This city’s been weird lately,” Elaine said casually during a lull in conversation, spearing a piece of neon-green something. “There’ve been a few animal attacks. Or what the news is calling animal attacks.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A prickle crawled up my spine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What kind?” I asked carefully.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, you know. Vague descriptions. Half-eaten carcasses. Footprints nobody can identify. The usual Pacific Northwest horror-movie fuel.” She shrugged. “Most of it it is bullshit fear-mongering if you ask me. But just be careful walking around alone, okay?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I will,” I promised.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the unease in my gut didn’t fade. I tried to push it aside; ignore it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I wanted—needed—to believe this Chapter of my life wouldn’t immediately spiral into chaos.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>***\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was near midnight when I walked back toward my hotel, the city lights painting the wet pavement in shimmering reflections. My breath puffed in the cool air, misty and soft.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I took a shortcut through an alley flanked by brick walls and fire escapes. Probably not smart after Elaine’s warning, but I knew how to take care of myself, nothing nearby smelled threatening.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Or so I thought.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Halfway through the alley, a low, desperate whimper echoed behind a dumpster.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I froze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another sound followed—bootsteps, several pairs, moving fast.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then voices.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Grab him!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hold him down.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Careful—he’s twitching again.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I peered around the corner.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Four men dressed head-to-toe in black tactical gear were restraining a figure on the ground—a thin, scruffy male whose clothes hung off him like wilted rags. His hair was matted, his skin bruised and pale, but the scent—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My breath hitched.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Werewolf.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Omega.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One of the men kicked him in the ribs when he tried to crawl away. Another produced a syringe filled with a shimmering silver liquid.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The third man, most likely the leader, spoke in a clipped, cold tone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Keep him still. We need the specimen alive.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Specimen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The word slammed into me like physical force.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What the fuck had I stumbled upon?\u003C\u002Fp>",1422,"2026-06-03T02:27:49.405Z",1,"novelbin.me","ffa0b1a69982308d52546f65a708658afc68d7ccc6c648a448da594dac82ecda","my-sister-stole-my-mate-and-i-let-her-chapter-241","my-sister-stole-my-mate-and-i-let-her-chapter-239",488,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmy-sister-stole-my-mate-and-i-let-her-cover.jpg"]