4. When Fiction Mirrors Reality
4
WHEN FICTION MIRRORS REALITY
~KAMARI~
" A nd in that moment, standing beneath the stars with his arms around me, I realized that running from the altar wasn't an act of cowardice – it was the bravest thing I'd ever done. Because sometimes you have to lose everything to find what you're truly worth."
The words blur through my tears as I finish the final chapter of "The Runaway Omega's Guide to Finding Love."
My chest aches with a mixture of hope and longing that feels almost painful. The protagonist's journey mirrors my own so perfectly that it's almost cruel – another Omega who chose freedom over family expectations, who dared to believe she deserved more than being a business transaction.
If only real life worked out so perfectly.
Wiping my eyes, I trace the words on my Kindle's screen, not ready to let go of the story just yet.
The way the author described the female main character's escape from her arranged marriage felt so real, so visceral – the panic, the guilt, the overwhelming sense of both liberation and loss.
Just like me, she'd fled to a small town, hoping to disappear into anonymity.
But unlike me, she found him.
The Alpha who changed everything .
"He didn't try to fix me," I read aloud, my voice barely a whisper in the quiet room. "He simply created a space where I felt safe enough to fix myself. Every flaw, every quirk, every cultural difference that my family had taught me to hide – he celebrated them all. In his eyes, I wasn't a prize to be won or a deal to be closed. I was simply me, and somehow, that was enough."
My finger traces the passage again.
How different would it be, to meet an Alpha like that? Someone who didn't see my Indian heritage as an exotic novelty or a cultural barrier to be overcome.
Someone who would appreciate the stories behind my mother's recipes, the meaning woven into every thread of my traditional attire, and the depth of history in every celebration and ritual.
The book's hero seemed too good to be true – a successful businessman who took the time to learn about her culture, who encouraged her dreams of opening a traditional bakery, who stood up to his own family when they questioned his choice.
The way their relationship unfolded felt like watching a flower bloom – natural, beautiful, inevitable.
"Every step forward I took in my career, every small victory in building my new life, he celebrated like it was his own triumph," I continue reading, my heart squeezing. "And in return, the love I poured into him seemed to ignite something profound. As if by believing in each other, we both became stronger versions of ourselves."
A glance at my phone shows it's 11:43 PM.
Has it really been hours?
I've been so lost in the story that time slipped away like water through my fingers. Astraea must still be at her event – I hope she's having better luck with real Alphas than I did with my arranged ones.
With a reluctant sigh, I switch off my Kindle and reach for the stack of mail I've been avoiding.
Might as well be productive since sleep feels impossible right now, my mind too full of fictional romance and real-world longing.
Bills, advertisements, more bills… and then I see it.
My heart stops as I recognize the official government seal.
"No, no, no..." I rip open the envelope, though I already know what it contains. The paper feels heavy, expensive – the kind used for summons and official declarations.
My eyes scan the contents, and I feel the blood drain from my face.
Mandatory Attendance Required:
Omega Singles Meet – Tonight
FAILURE TO ATTEND WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE SUMMONING TO THE COMMITTEE FOR FURTHER INTERROGATION
"Fuck!" I check the time again – 11:45 PM.
The invitation states doors close at midnight. Midnight!
My mind races as I check the address.
The venue isn't far – maybe a fifteen-minute walk, but if I run... I could make it in ten. Eight if I really push myself.
This seems fucking laughable if I dare think about it.
If Father could see me now – his perfectly trained daughter contemplating running through the streets like a common criminal. All for a fucking singles meet.
Desperation at its finest.
I rush to my closet, throwing open the doors with enough force to make them rattle. Nothing here works – all my casual dresses would take too long to style properly, and I don't have time for a full outfit coordination.
My eyes drift to the section of my closet I usually avoid – the traditional wear I brought with me when I fled. Pieces too beautiful, meaningful , to leave behind, even if they remind me of a life I'm trying to escape.
With trembling fingers, I pull out a dark red saree, the fabric whispering against my skin like a forgotten lullaby.
The color is deep and rich – like wine in candlelight – with delicate golden embroidery along the borders. It's not what these events typically expect; most Omegas show up in Western cocktail dresses or designer gowns.
But maybe that's exactly why I should wear it.
Working with practiced movements that my mother drilled into me since childhood, I begin the process of wrapping the saree. Each fold, each pleat falls perfectly into place, muscle memory taking over where conscious thought fails.
The matching blouse hugs my curves modestly but elegantly.
From my jewelry box – one of the few luxuries I allowed myself to keep – I select pieces that complement without overwhelming. A delicate golden tikka for my forehead, matching jhumka earrings that chime softly with every movement, and a series of bangles that cascade down my wrists in a symphony of red and gold.
A quick glance in the mirror shows me a version of myself I barely recognize anymore – the perfect blend of tradition and defiance.
I can already hear the mockery.
The Indian Omega trying to look presentable in our world where elegant gowns and fitted suits are the trend and now…this.
I swallow the lump in my throat, affirming what I know is true.
I don't need to impress anyone.
Just arrive, be seen, and leave.
That’s it. Nothing more.
The clock shows 11:52 PM as I grab my small clutch and rush to the door. There's no time for elaborate makeup or hairstyling – my long black curls will have to do as they are, cascading down my back like a rebellion against Western beauty standards.
"Just get there, sign in, and leave," I mutter to myself as I lock up. "No need to stay, no need to socialize, just avoid the government's watchlist for one more month."
My sandals barely make a sound against the stairs as I rush down them two at a time, the soft chiming of my bangles marking each movement like a countdown to midnight.
The fabric of my saree flows behind me like a river of crimson and gold, years of practice making it possible to run without tripping over the pleats.
11:54 PM. I can make it.
The night air hits my face as I burst through the Haven's front door, carrying with it the scent of recent rain and city lights.
My heart pounds against my ribs, not just from exertion but from the thrill of being out alone at this hour. In my old life, such a thing would have been unthinkable.
I turn the corner at full speed, my mind focused solely on calculating the fastest route to the venue – and crash directly into what feels like a wall of solid muscle emerging from the nearest alleyway.
A mouse-like squeak escapes my lips as I lose my balance, my body pitching forward into what would surely be an ungraceful faceplant. But before I can meet the concrete, strong hands catch me, one arm wrapping around my waist while the other steadies my shoulder.
The sudden movement has me looking up swiftly, just as he peers down to check on me – and our lips brush in the lightest, most accidental of touches.
Oh...
Everything stops.
The world narrows down to this single moment, this fraction of a second where his lips ghost against mine.
It's barely a touch, nothing more than a whisper of contact, but it sends electricity coursing through every nerve in my body.
My Omega instincts, usually so carefully controlled, surge to life with an intensity that leaves me breathless. My skin tingles where he touches me, heat blooming beneath his fingers even through the fabric of my saree.
But it's his eyes that truly capture me.
They're the most magnificent shade of blue I've ever seen – deep and mesmerizing, with hints of lavender and silver that remind me of ocean waters beneath a star-strewn sky.
They remind me of the stories my grandmother used to tell about the cosmic ocean of creation, where stars were born in the depths of divine waters.
His scent wraps around me next, a complex mixture that makes my mouth water.
Rich, dark coffee – the expensive kind that comes from high-mountain beans – mingles with smooth bourbon and something deeper, more primal .
There's a hint of high-end cologne with notes of sandalwood and cedar, but underneath it all, is pure Alpha musk that makes my inner Omega want to purr.
He smells like late nights and dangerous secrets.
My eyes drift to the slight stubble along his jaw, perfectly maintained to look effortlessly rugged.
His black hair is cut short and styled professionally, but there's a hint of rebellion in the way a few strands fall across his forehead. The black suit he wears screams authority, tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders. The overcoat trench coat he wears over it only adds to his imposing presence, making his already impressive frame seem even larger.
He has to be at least 6'2", forcing him to bend significantly to hold me steady. My 5'2" frame feels absolutely tiny in comparison, but not in a way that frightens me.
Despite his size and strength that I can feel in his grip, there's something innately gentle about how he holds me.
As though I’m so precious in his arms…
Our eyes lock again, and I swear I see something flash in those oceanic depths – recognition? Interest?
Whatever it is makes my heart skip a beat.
11:57 PM.
The time hits me like a bucket of cold water.
I'm going to be late!
"I'm so sorry!" I manage to squeak out, carefully extracting myself from his hold. My face feels like it's on fire, and I know I must be blushing furiously. The skin where his hands touched me seems to burn with phantom heat, but there’s no time for all of this.
I have to go!
My hands automatically smooth down my saree, checking that nothing is out of place. Years of ingrained etiquette have me dropping into an elegant bow, muscle memory ensuring I maintain the perfect angle while keeping my outfit intact.
"Please forgive my clumsiness," I add formally, hating how breathless I sound. "I must go…I'm terribly late!"
Before he can respond, or those captivating eyes can draw me back in, I spin around and dart away. My feet carry me forward at full speed, bangles jingling with every step, but his scent follows me like a ghost.
Coffee, bourbon, sandalwood, and secrets.
Why would a man like that be emerging from an alleyway at this hour?
Everything about him screamed authority – law enforcement perhaps? A detective? The way he carried himself, the alert look in his eyes despite his relaxed posture, the holster I glimpsed beneath his coat...
But more importantly, why did that brief touch feel like destiny?
I’ve been so lost in various written works of fiction that I may dream of obtaining such a unique first connection with an Alpha who’d change my world.
But unlike fiction, things like love at first sight and instances of immediate lust and connection don’t happen in the real world…
The venue's lights appear in the distance, but my mind stays with the mysterious Alpha. The way time seemed to stop when our eyes met, how perfectly his hands fit around my waist, the electric current that passed between us at that whisper of a kiss...
Focus, Kamari! You have two minutes to get inside before they lock the doors!
Still, as I race toward the building, I can't help but wonder if this is how the heroine in my book felt.
That singular moment when fiction becomes reality is when fate steps in and changes everything.
But this isn't a romance novel…
I’m forced to remind myself sternly.
Mysterious Alphas emerging from dark alleys are more likely to be dangerous than dreamy.
Yet his scent lingers in my nose, and my lips tingle with the memory of that almost kiss.
Goddess…I wish I could manifest such a reality so I no longer need to keep running away.