The cold wasn't the kind that came from the weather.
It was the kind that lived in your bones—quiet, permanent—the kind that settles in when love disappears and loneliness becomes routine.
Li Wei barely registered the sterile hospital room anymore. Everything smelled like bleach and metal, but beneath that was something more personal—the faint trace of his Omega scent, fading like smoke.
Suppressants no longer masked it. He hadn't bothered in months.
Why hide what no one cared to see?
His body ached in that slow, hollow way that signaled the end. The doctors had stopped checking in. The nurses whispered outside the door.
And Chen Lihuan—his Alpha, his husband by contract—hadn't visited in days.
Not that he was ever really present, even when he was.
Li Wei coughed, each breath scraping like rusted gears. The ring on his finger felt heavier than it should. It was just metal—but it carried every silent hope he'd buried.
Their marriage had never been more than a transaction. He'd signed the papers with quiet hope. Maybe it would turn into something real. Maybe time would soften the sharpness in Chen Lihuan's voice. Maybe distance would close.
But the love he wanted never came.
He remembered their home—big, expensive, full of silence. The nights they'd shared a bed but not a word. The way Chen Lihuan would touch him like it was duty, not desire. The cold press of lips that never lingered. The way his Alpha never once said his name softly.
The bond they formed hadn't brought them closer. If anything, it made the emptiness louder.
Because Li Wei felt everything.
And Chen Lihuan felt… nothing at all.
A soft wheeze escaped him, more breath than voice.
"Chen... Lihuan."
He wasn't even sure why he said it. Habit, maybe. Or foolish hope. A name he had whispered in love, in longing, in loneliness.
Now, it was just a goodbye.
He closed his eyes.
And the world went still.
---
It should have ended there.
But it didn't.
There was a sudden pull—like falling through darkness and waking mid-dream. For a moment, he thought it was a hallucination. One last cruel trick of a dying mind.
But then he felt it—warmth.
Real warmth.
Soft fabric beneath him, not a hospital bed. Air in his lungs that didn't hurt. His body didn't feel like it was dissolving. His skin wasn't paper-thin.
He could breathe.
Li Wei sat up too fast and gasped.
No IV. No hospital gown.
Just his old, familiar hoodie—stretched at the sleeves.
And he was in—
His apartment.
The one from years ago. The tiny one-bedroom he'd rented as a young teacher, before marriage, before the contract, before everything.
Sunlight poured through the window. Dust floated like confetti in the air. His battered mug sat beside his open lesson planner. His favorite pen was uncapped on the couch.
Nothing looked new—but nothing looked like it had been touched by grief either.
His heart pounded as he looked around, disoriented. Then his eyes landed on the digital clock.
June 15th.
His throat closed.
One year before he met Chen Lihuan.
One year before he said yes.
One year before the slow unraveling of his heart.
A shiver passed through him—not fear. Not grief.
Clarity.
He was back. Alive.
And this time… he wasn't going to love blindly.
This time, he wouldn't fall for the Alpha who let him die alone.
This time…
He would choose himself.