"Ethan, come here!"
Viona's joyful voice sliced through the heavy fog of his exhaustion. He had been quietly dozing off, the emotional toll of the day finally catching up to him, but her call snapped his posture straight. Adrenaline surging through his veins, Ethan instantly got to his feet and hurried over to where she was sitting, his eyes scanning her face to see what had triggered such a burst of excitement.
"Look! This one is from your father!"
Before he could process her words, she shoved a neatly wrapped box into his hands. Ethan stared down at the package, his breath hitching. He looked from the crisp wrapping paper back up to Viona, wondering if his ears were playing tricks on him. A gift? From his father? The man who had explicitly stated he wouldn't waste a single penny on an Omega?
An icy knot of dread tightened in his stomach. A gift from his father couldn't possibly be a good thing.
Viona hovered close, her eyes bright and eager, completely transparent in her excitement to watch him open it. But Ethan's fingers felt like lead; they refused to move.
"What are you waiting for? Let's open it!" she urged gently.
Ethan swallowed hard, staring at the box. Every instinct screamed at him to drop it, to refuse, but an Omega did not deny an Alpha. He had never dared to do such a thing in his life. Forcing a rigid nod, his stiff, trembling fingers began to tear at the elegant wrapping paper.
When the box fell open, it revealed a worn, antique-looking photo album.
Ethan recognized it instantly. It was an item that had always been locked away in the high cabinets of his father's study—a place Ethan was forbidden to touch because he wasn't considered real family. His heart hammered violently against his ribs as he stared at the faded cover. A sudden, fragile hope flared in his chest. His mother. The mother he had never known, whose face he had never seen... maybe her memory was preserved inside.
Driven by a desperate, sudden urge, he flipped the album open. But before his eyes could find a photograph, a piece of folded white paper slipped from the pages and fluttered into his lap.
Written across it in thick, aggressive letters was a single sentence:
'My brother is a very good boy!'
Ethan's heart stopped, then began to race in absolute terror. He knew that handwriting. He knew exactly who had slipped that mockery into the pages. It was his younger brother. The familiar, mocking words tasted like ash in his mouth. It was the same psychological torment he had endured for years, a sickening reminder that even across the city, in his new sanctuary, his abusers could still reach out and touch him.
A violent wave of panic surged through his body. His fingers clenched so hard against the edge of the paper that his knuckles turned white. But centuries of survival instincts kicked in; he forced his face to smooth out, plastering a fragile, hollow smile onto his lips as he looked up at Viona.
"Ethan, are you okay? You're sweating."
He hadn't realized how badly he was trembling until Viona reached out, her hand moving toward his forehead to wipe away the cold sweat of his panic. To Ethan, the approaching hand wasn't an act of comfort—it was a threat. Before his conscious mind could stop him, his reflexes took over.
Smack.
He slapped her hand away. The sharp sound echoed in the quiet room.
Viona froze, her hand suspended in the air, her eyes widening in shock. A flash of genuine hurt crossed her features before settling into stunned confusion.
Ethan's mind went completely blank. Horror, pure and unadulterated, washed over him. He had just struck an Alpha. He had struck his husband. Paralyzed, he stared at her, waiting for the inevitable blow, the roar of anger, the curse words that usually followed any sign of his defiance.
Viona was visibly shaken. The rejection was harsh, cutting through her romantic optimism like a knife. For a fleeting second, a cold thought crossed her mind: Maybe he hates me. Maybe he doesn't want this at all.
But as she looked closer at the young man shivering in front of her, the pieces began to misalign. She had initially written off his rigid posture and downcast eyes as simple shyness, the standard modesty of an Omega meeting his new Alpha. But this wasn't shyness.
It was terror.
She recalled how he had been spacing out, his brow furrowed in distress, his small frames trembling periodically throughout the evening. None of this was a normal reaction to opening a wedding gift from one's own family.
She wanted to ask him what was wrong. They were legally a couple now, bound by law, but they were still total strangers. Realizing that pushing him might only worsen whatever panic had gripped him, Viona consciously chose to step back, reserving her questions for a time when he felt safe enough to answer them.
"I-I'm sorry," Ethan stammered, his voice suddenly sounding entirely present, wiping away any trace of the terrified boy from a moment ago. "I was just in a daze for a second. It's... it's a joke from my brother. He always does silly, funny things like this to surprise me. Please don't worry about it."
Viona watched the transformation in disbelief. He was suddenly composed, wearing an flawless, bright expression as if he hadn't just been on the verge of a breakdown.
This was Ethan's masterpiece. He had spent his entire life mastering the art of the plastic smile, performing whatever emotion was necessary to appease the people around him. Viona was his new master, his new target to please. He could not afford to disgust her with his baggage, so he buried it. He smiled, and the heavy atmosphere in the room shifted instantly.
He smiled, but behind his eyes, tears were trapped. He smiled, but the warmth never reached his expression. He wore a mask that made others comfortable while he bled internally. He didn't want Viona to know the truth about his family—not yet. His past was a shameful, ugly thing, and a prestigious Alpha like Viona shouldn't have to look at something so worthless. It would only make her despise him sooner.
Though Viona knew something was deeply wrong, the sheer effort Ethan was putting into convincing her otherwise forced her hand. She accepted the lie, allowing him to guide her back to the remaining gifts.
They spent the rest of the night tearing through the remaining packages, exchanging small talk as the clock ticked past midnight. By the end of it, a massive pile of presents dominated the living room floor. Nearly all of them were from Viona's mother, who had showered the newlyweds in over a dozen lavish items.
Looking at the generosity of Viona's family, Ethan glanced down at the ruined, bitter album in his lap, a dull ache throbbing in his chest. The contrast between their families was humiliating.
Viona, however, didn't seem to care about the politics of the gifts. She didn't keep score. She unwrapped each item with the unbridled, infectious energy of a child on Christmas morning, entirely focused on the novelty of what lay beneath the paper—and on weaving Ethan into her joy.
Whenever she spoke to him, she seamlessly used words like "we," "us," and "our."
Every time those words left her mouth, a strange, sweet tingle vibrated in Ethan's chest. It was a beautiful sensation, but it hurt. It made his throat tighten and his eyes sting with unshed tears. It was terrifyingly warm to hear someone genuinely include him in their vision of the future.
'If only I could stay like this forever…' he thought, a dangerous wave of longing washing over him. To sit beside a cheerful Alpha who didn't view him as an eyesore, who actively tried to share her happiness with him... it was a drug. He felt a toxic, greedy urge to reach out and hold onto it.
But the conditioning of his upbringing slammed down like a iron shutter, shattering the illusion.
'Omegas should not be greedy,' his father's voice echoed brutally in his mind. 'Be grateful for the scraps you have. Do not become a burden.'
Even with his father miles away, the invisible chains of his instructions held firm. His mind immediately went to war with his heart, suffocating his desire for affection before it could bloom. He didn't know how to live for himself; he only knew how to obey the dead weight of his past.
The only Alphas he truly knew were monsters. He had seen others in passing, but he had always assumed their polished public personas masked the same cruelty his father and brother possessed. He believed the whole world was a hunting ground, and Omegas were the prey.
But now, a different Alpha was sitting right next to him.
Viona would either be the final proof that his cynicism was right, or she would be the one to rip down the walls of his prison and show him a world he didn't dare dream of.
Looking at her bright, laughing face, Ethan felt a profound, aching weariness settle deep into his bones. He was so tired of fighting, so tired of hiding. He just wanted to rest. He just wanted to be safe.