My Mate My Curse

Eleanor Roy’s POV

“Dad! Where are you?” I shouted, running through the house, searching for my father to tell him the shocking news.

He emerged from his workshop, looking at me in confusion. “I’m here, Eleanor. What’s going on?”

I rushed to him, breathless, and handed him my phone so he could read the message I had received just ten minutes ago. His eyes widened, and he stared at the screen for a long moment, trying to absorb what he was seeing. Then he looked up at me in astonishment and said, “Is she serious?!”

I nodded, disappointment weighing heavily on me. “It looks like she’s found the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with.”

The sadness in his eyes mirrored my own, and a wave of depression washed over me. This meant my dream of reuniting my parents was officially over. I had to face reality…

I sighed and hugged my father. He wrapped his arms around me and said softly, “You should go, Eleanor.”

I pulled away abruptly, my voice rising with emotion. “No, I won’t go! She turned her back on us and decided to start a new life without us!”

Ten years ago, my mother had grown bored of our—what she called—"ordinary" life. She left me and Dad one night without warning and later sent him divorce papers. She refused any settlement and said she wanted to start over. Yet, that didn’t stop her from texting me occasionally to ask how I was doing...

My dad always urged me not to ignore her—“She’s still your mother,” he’d say. Sometimes I listened to him, other times I didn’t, depending on my mood. Still, I missed her. I missed the warmth of a family, the comfort of togetherness we once had. But all of that was meaningless now… She had sent me her wedding invitation.

My father wanted me to go, but I didn’t. It hurt to imagine my mother walking down the aisle in a wedding dress—for another man.

“Eleanor, please,” he said with a gentle smile. “She needs you. Be part of her happiness. Don’t break her heart.”

My throat tightened, and I whispered hoarsely, “Are you trying to get rid of me too?”

He chuckled, his voice soft and kind. “Of course not, sweetheart. I just don’t want your mother’s heart broken because you didn’t show up.”

Oh, Dad… Your heart is so big. You care more about her happiness than your own sorrow. You still love her, despite the wound she left behind.

I exhaled sharply. “I’ll think about it,” I muttered, then walked away toward my room.

Alright, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Eleanor Roy. I’m seventeen years and ten months old. In just two more months, I’ll be eighteen and finally able to start living independently. My dream is to study medicine and become a pediatrician.

I’m not an animal lover, but if you asked me what I hate most in this world, the answer would be dogs. Actually, I don’t hate them—I fear them. If you gave me a choice between being locked in a room with an angry, horned demon or a teacup-sized dog, I’d choose the demon without hesitation. I have a phobia of dogs—any kind, whether tame or wild.

This all stems from an incident that happened when I was six, a year before my parents’ divorce…

I was playing in the garden with my friend, as usual, when a rabid dog escaped from the dog catchers and came charging at us like a lion ready to pounce. My friend saw it first and, in a moment of pure selfishness, turned and ran, leaving behind nothing but a cloud of dust. I hadn’t even seen the dog yet, so when it attacked me from behind, I was completely unprepared. I screamed and cried as its teeth sank into my shoulder. It was a neighbor who came running at the sound and managed to pull the dog off me. Since that day, dogs and I have walked separate paths entirely.

Anyway, back to the story.

I only have one friend—Courtney. She’s a wild spirit who loves shopping, makeup, and dating older guys. I have no idea what she sees in them, but whatever. Unlike me, Courtney adores dogs, which is why I never visit her at home.

My dad, Wendy Roy, is a mechanic at one of the local car factories. He’s really good at what he does, and everyone loves him because he’s kind and easy to talk to. My mom, Maria, is a beautiful and ambitious woman. She used to be obsessed with Dad, but over the years, her passion for him faded, and she decided to leave him and live life on her own terms.

That night, I lay in bed after changing into my pajamas, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Should I go to the wedding?” I murmured aloud.

I tried to recall any memory of my childhood with my mother, but unfortunately, nothing vivid came to mind.

“I was too young. It’s not my fault,” I whispered again, speaking to myself.

I got up and headed to the kitchen to make dinner for Dad and me. When he returned from his workshop, we sat together at the table, eating in silence—just like always.

After a while, my father broke the silence, asking eagerly, “Have you made your decision?”

He seemed eager to hear my answer, but I shook my head.

“Dad, I need some time,” I replied with a huff. He chuckled and said, “I know, but you’ll have to decide soon so you can start preparing for the wedding.”

I gave him a sly look and said, “You just want to get rid of me!”

He looked a bit flustered and stammered, “Of course not, you silly girl! I just—”

I cut him off with a sigh, “Alright, Dad. I’ll go. But only for you.”

He smiled softly and patted my head. “Good girl, my little one.”

---

Two days later…

I packed my bags, and Dad helped me gather everything I needed. He advised me not to argue with Mom and to be kind to Grandma.