That night, Viona had asked Ethan to sleep alone.
She had been profoundly worried that she might lose control of her biology; the raw, primal instincts of an Alpha were difficult to suppress with a beautiful, unbonded Omega resting right beside her. But because she was deeply embarrassed by the sheer intensity of her own desires, she hadn't explained herself clearly. She had mumbled a vague excuse and retreated.
Left without context, Ethan's mind had immediately jumped to the darkest conclusion: she hates me. She can't even stand the sight of me occupying her bed.
Sigh...
Both of them fell asleep that night with entirely different worlds spinning in their heads.
'I really have a husband now! An Omega! Wow... I still can't believe it!' Viona marveled to herself, staring at the ceiling of the guest room. She had insisted on taking the smaller room, offering the master suite to Ethan. Ethan, true to his conditioning, would never deny an Alpha's directive, so he had simply accepted the arrangement without a word. As Viona drifted off, her mind conjured beautiful, vibrant dreams—a sunlit future filled with the sound of children's laughter and a home overflowing with joy.
But across the hall, Ethan was trapped in a living hell.
His subconscious twisted into a vicious nightmare. He saw his father and younger brother striding into this new house, their faces twisted in familiar disgust as they rattled off a list of his flaws to Viona. In the dream, Viona's gentle expression withered into a mask of pure fury. She looked at him with utter revulsion and demanded a divorce.
"Don't want... please, no..." Ethan mumbled in his sleep, tears leaking from the corners of his tightly shut eyes as the terror jarred him awake.
He sat up in the dark, his chest heaving. 'I don't want a divorce.'
In their society, a cast-off, divorced Omega was treated like broken property. They were paraded through a gauntlet of public judgment, subjected to cruel insults, and discarded by a world that offered them zero mental health support or legal protection. Omegas were systematically bullied for the failures of their marriages, yet none of them possessed the systemic power to fight back. It was accepted as their tragic, unalterable fate.
Every Omega knew the bitter truth: to be born an Omega was considered a curse. Yet, ironically, without them, how could the world carry on? Society treated them as mere breeding stock, biological machines designed to satisfy an Alpha's lust and perpetuate their lineage. It was brutally unfair.
And yet, despite the cruelty of the world, every Omega harbored a secret, desperate wish—a final, fraying lifeline to keep them from drowning: they prayed to find an Alpha who would treat them with genuine love.
Ethan was no different. Having survived an upbringing that was more abusive than most could even comprehend, Viona had become his anchor. She was the only Alpha he felt he could dare to place his fragile faith in.
The bedroom clock read 3:00 AM when Ethan finally gave up on sleep. A heavy, suffocating discomfort clung to his skin, making it impossible to remain still. He slipped out of bed and padded into the bathroom, turning the dial to pure cold. He let the freezing water cascade over him, desperately trying to wash away the lingering dread of the nightmare and the phantom aches of his past.
After pulling on a set of fresh clothes, he stepped out into the quiet hallway. He figured he should start cleaning or organizing the house; he had never learned how to simply exist without being useful. He was accustomed to working like a domestic servant, so he resolved to scrub the floors and dust the counters silently, allowing his Alpha to get her rest.
Taking care of the labor was his job, after all.
But when he reached the ground floor, he froze. Viona was already awake, standing in the center of the living room, preoccupied with something.
From his vantage point behind her, Ethan couldn't quite see what she was doing. He took a slow, tentative step toward the couch, but his quiet footsteps immediately caught her attention.
Viona spun around to face him, and the words died in her throat.
Ethan stood there, radiating the sharp, clean scent of soap. He looked entirely fresh, but his hair was completely soaked, droplets of water tracking down his neck and saturating the collar of his shirt like a stray chicken caught in a downpour. He had never learned to dry his hair properly; in his father's house, he was never afforded the luxury of time, so he had always let it air-dry, even if it ruined his clothes.
"You! Why are you up so early?" Viona's eyes swept over him, widening in disbelief. "Wait... did you take a bath at this hour?"
She hadn't heard the pipes rattling or the water running. Yet here was her Omega, standing before her, shivering like a lost puppy in the rain.
A sharp flash of anger crossed Viona's features. Seeing the sudden shift in her expression, Ethan flinched, his throat tightening as he hesitated to speak.
"It's... it's not too early," he whispered, keeping his eyes glued to her face, desperately trying to read her expression. "This is normal for me."
Viona didn't answer. Her face went entirely blank, a terrifying poker face that made Ethan's anxiety skyrocket. She began to walk toward him, her movements deliberate, a heavy gloom seeming to settle over her shoulders. Ethan's confusion quickly morphed into raw panic as the air in the room grew suffocatingly dense. His knees began to buckle, and his lungs strained for oxygen under the sudden, crushing weight that landed on his chest.
He knew this sensation. The Alpha in front of him was letting her aura bleed out. She was angry.
"Did you use hot water?" she demanded, her voice dangerously low.
"...No," he choked out.
The invisible pressure intensified, stealing the remaining strength from his legs. He was about to collapse onto the floor when Viona's hand shot forward, gripping his wrist firmly.
"Ethan! You didn't even dry your hair!" she burst out, her voice rising in pitch as her grip tightened on his arm. "You're going to catch a cold! How could you be so incredibly careless? Taking a freezing shower in the middle of the night, leaving your hair soaking wet, and then just wandering around the house as if it's nothing!"
Ethan stared at her, his heart hammering against his ribs. Her voice was loud, and her hold on his wrist was tight, triggering every survival instinct he possessed. But beneath the volume of her voice, the words themselves began to register.
She wasn't angry because he had disturbed her. She was angry because he might get sick.
The realization sent a strange, entirely foreign sensation rippling through his nervous system. Yet, because his body only knew how to respond to an Alpha's raised voice with submission, his face remained a mask of pure terror.
Seeing the sheer panic in his eyes, Viona instantly felt a wave of profound regret. "Sigh... I'm not mad at you, Ethan. Please, don't look at me like that."
She couldn't bear to see him look so utterly broken. He looked so pitifully small.
Gently but firmly, she guided him over to the couch, forcing him to sit. She vanished for a brief moment, returning with a plush towel. Standing over him, she began to dry his hair, her movements incredibly tender as she studied the delicate contours of his face from just inches away.
Ethan remained frozen to the spot, entirely paralyzed by the proximity. Whenever her warm fingertips accidentally brushed against the tips of his ears or the nape of his neck, a violent tremor would run through his body. Those areas were highly sensitive, hardwired to react to an Alpha's touch, and the sheer intimacy of the gesture sent his mind into a quiet panic.
Finally, Viona stepped back, tossing the towel over her shoulder with a small, satisfied nod. She sank onto the cushion next to him, her gaze locked onto his, a strict but gentle smile playing on her lips.
"Ethan, listen to me," she said, her voice dropping into a firm, authoritative register. "I don't care how things were run in your old house. But from this moment on, you need to remember that you are living in a new home, with a new person. You cannot be this careless with your health. You must take care of yourself—because I expect you to. Do you understand?"
Ethan nodded automatically, but his mind was racing. Her tone was undeniably strict, sounding very much like a command. It was the first time she had dropped her cheerful demeanor to enforce an order since they had met.
And yet, it felt entirely different from his father's commands.
Her coldness wasn't designed to degrade him; it was a shield meant to protect him. She was ordering him to value his own well-being. His father had used commands to break his spirit; Viona was using them to keep him safe.
'They aren't the same,' Ethan realized, the realization cracking something open inside his chest. 'She... she actually cares about what happens to me.'
That was the exact moment Ethan's carefully constructed defenses completely crumbled.
A soft, faint pink hue bloomed across his cheeks. A genuine, entirely innocent smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and for the very first time, the warmth reached his eyes, making them crinkle with soft emotion. He offered her another, much gentler nod.
Viona's breath hitched. She felt her own lips involuntarily mirroring his smile.
How could anyone possess a smile that pure? He looked so incredibly adorable, so fragile, and so fiercely beautiful all at once. A powerful, roaring instinct surged through her veins, cementing her resolve: I must protect this man from everything.
'Does he actually like it when I take care of him?' she wondered, her heart swelling.
Of course he did. All Ethan had ever wanted from the moment his designation was revealed was a shred of comfort, a safe harbor from the storm. As he sat beside his Alpha in the quiet, early morning light, the impossible dream of being cherished was finally starting to feel real.