It was supposed to be a quiet day.
No chains.
No arguments.
No questions.
Kael had left for a meeting. Rayan stood alone in the penthouse library, fingers grazing book spines. His scarf was still wrapped around him like armor, even though the room was warm.
He pulled out a book at random.
It wasn't a novel.
It was a file.
Thick. Misplaced. Unlabeled.
Curious, he opened it.
And saw his own photo.
Patient Code: OME-2143-RY
Subject's secondary gender has stabilized after 3rd suppression trial.
Physical compliance level: Low.
Psychological response: Resistant.
Maternal figure has been informed of anomaly. Suggested emotional detachment protocol initiated.
Rayan's hands went cold.
The room swayed.
Suddenly he wasn't standing in Kael's library anymore.
He was ten years old again.
Sitting in a white chair, legs dangling off the side. A needle slid into his arm, followed by a heavy numbness. The room had no windows, just one mirror that wasn't a mirror at all.
"You're very special, Rayan," the voice had said.
His mother's voice.
Smiling from the other side of the glass.
"This is how Omegas learn to be good."
Rayan remembered screaming.
He remembered the doctors writing things down without looking at him.
He remembered collapsing on the tile, heat flaring through his bloodstream until he begged for them to stop—
Only to be told:
"You'll make someone very proud one day. So don't cry, darling. Be useful."
He dropped the file.
Fell to his knees.
Couldn't breathe.
The collar.
The voices.
The injections.
His mother's cold eyes on the other side of the glass.
All of it—
Crashing in at once.
The front door clicked open.
Kael stepped inside—and froze.
He saw the file.
Saw Rayan curled on the floor, trembling, hands over his ears like he could shut it out.
"Rayan," he breathed.
He dropped to the ground, not touching him—not daring to—but leaning in close enough to be heard.
"I'm here. It's not real anymore."
But to Rayan, it was real.
The cold floor.
The echo of restraints snapping shut.
The stench of sterile latex.
"Don't touch me!" he gasped. "I said no—I said I didn't want—!"
Kael backed off immediately.
"Okay. I won't. I promise. You're safe."
It took an hour for Rayan to calm down.
By then, Kael had closed the file, locked it away, and brought water—quietly.
Rayan sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket now, staring ahead blankly.
"Why do you have that?" he asked.
His voice was raw. Empty.
Kael knelt down, voice quieter than ever.
"I stole it."
Rayan didn't respond.
"I wanted to know who hurt you," Kael said. "Because when I first found you in that alley... you were already broken. And I didn't know how deep the damage went."
Rayan closed his eyes.
"I was ten," he whispered. "When they first took blood."
Kael's jaw clenched.
"And thirteen when they started 'heat stress testing.'"
Kael's hands curled into fists.
"And fourteen when I tried to run away for the first time."
His voice broke.
"They sent me back. My mother said, 'What kind of Omega runs away from his duty?'"
Kael said nothing.
But the silence was loud enough to shake the world.
Later, when the stars blinked quietly outside and the trauma stopped screaming in his chest, Rayan finally whispered:
"I don't need you to fix me."
Kael looked at him.
"I know."
"I just need you to… stay. Even when I'm ugly."
Kael leaned forward slightly. "Even when you hate me?"
Rayan didn't smile.
But his eyes didn't look so hollow anymore.
"Yes."
Kael reached out slowly.
Rayan didn't pull away.
Their fingers touched—light as air.
Like maybe this was the beginning of something real.
Not love yet.
But something quieter.
Trust.
Kael didn't hover the next day.
He didn't bring breakfast to Rayan's bed. Didn't linger in the doorway or wait with soft eyes. He simply… left the tray on the table.
And stayed away.
It was so sudden, so unnatural, that Rayan kept glancing toward the corners of the room, expecting to see him lurking.
But Kael didn't appear.
Not until late afternoon.
And even then, only to say:
"There's a passcode to the elevator now. You can change it whenever you want."
He handed Rayan a small digital keycard.
And walked away.
Rayan stared at the glowing strip in his hand.
No locks.
No chains.
Not even a tracker.
Freedom—real or fake—sat pulsing in his palm.
And he didn't know what to do with it.
Later that evening, Rayan walked through the penthouse with slow, hesitant steps.
He found the elevator just past the study.
Keypad blinking.
He hovered his thumb over it.
Could leave.
Could vanish.
Could disappear from Kael's world forever.
But…
His thumb trembled.
And withdrew.
He didn't know where to go.
Didn't know who would take him in.
Didn't know how to be anything except afraid.
So he turned around.
And went back inside.
Kael was sitting on the balcony, coat draped over his shoulders, eyes on the stars.
Rayan stopped in the doorway.
"You didn't lock it this time," he said quietly.
Kael didn't look at him. "No."
"Why?"
Kael exhaled slowly. "Because I meant what I said. You're not a prisoner."
Rayan walked over. Stood beside him, arms crossed.
He didn't sit.
But he didn't walk away either.
"I thought obsession was permanent," he said.
Kael's voice was quiet. "So did I."
A long silence.
Then Rayan whispered, "Are you still obsessed with me?"
Kael finally looked at him.
His eyes were no longer gleaming with hunger.
Just tired.
And honest.
"…I think I'm learning what it means not to be."
Rayan sat down.
This time, by choice.
The scarf was wrapped around his neck again.
His fingers twisted it tighter. Looser. Tighter.
"I keep waiting for you to snap again," he murmured.
Kael said nothing.
Rayan added, voice bitter: "You still killed someone for me."
Kael nodded. "Yes."
"And I'm supposed to forget that?"
Kael looked straight ahead. "No."
"Then what do you want from me now?"
Kael turned to him.
And said, genuinely—
"Nothing."
It was the first time Kael hadn't tried to pull Rayan closer.
And that made Rayan feel… unsteady.
Not rejected.
Not unsafe.
Just—unanchored.
Because maybe, for the first time, Kael wasn't trying to cage him anymore.
And that was scarier than anything else.
That night, Rayan sat by the window again.
He looked down at the city.
Remembered the alley Kael had found him in at sixteen—bloodied, shaking, barely able to stand.
Remembered his mother's words echoing in his skull.
"Omegas aren't meant to love. They're meant to serve."
He looked back at the bedroom door.
Where Kael had once stood with shackles.
Where now… nothing waited.
Just space.
And silence.
And choice.