A sharp sound rang through the room like a gunshot—my mother's palm striking my cheek.
"YOU'RE PREGNANT?! AND BY AN OMEGA NO LESS?!" she yelled, words like lightning slicing through the tense air.
I couldn't meet her gaze. What was there to say? Nothing would erase the reality in my belly.
"I-I'm sorry..." my voice came out small, a whisper against the storm of anger around me.
"YOU'RE A LUNA, VALENCIA!" My mother's voice cracked through the room like thunder. "You were meant to be fated to an alpha—not bound to some worthless omega in secret!"
I turned to my father, hoping he'd see reason. His silence felt heavy, but my hope dared to rise.
"D-dad, I—"
He exhaled slowly. "What's done is done."
Relief flickered inside me—just for a second—until he added,
"But it's better if we stop blaming her… and end this pregnancy before it goes further."
The warmth vanished. The hope crushed under those words.
Even silence wasn't kindness.
I frowned.
"What do you mean?" I forced the words out.
He turned to me, cold as ice. "I said what I said" he repeated.
A chill ran through me; my vision narrowed, my hands went numb.
I let out a scoffing laugh and then, deliberately, a smile curved at the corner of my mouth. "Really?" I asked, each syllable slow.
They stared back, expressionless—maybe confused.
"Over my dead body" I said finally, every word a promise.
"If anyone so much as thinks about hurting my child, they'll have to get past me first. I dare you—go on, try whatever it is you're planning."
The dam I'd held shut for so long finally broke—tears spilled down my face.
"How can you say that, Dad?" I shouted.
"Aren't I your daughter? Your little princess you promised to protect until the day you die? How can you expect me to be okay with killing my own child?!"
They watched me with pity—fleeting and hollow. "You don't have a say in this, sweetheart. You brought this on yourself," dad said.
"Then let me suffer for it!" I snapped. "I'll raise this child alone if I have to. I don't want your money or your status. I'll step down from my position. But I will not kill my baby."
My fingers jabbed at them like a warning. "And whoever even thinks of touching my child—"
"I'll come after you. Mark my words." I stormed to my room and slammed the door so hard it shook the frame.
I couldn't believe the words that had just left my mouth to my parents.
I slid down against the door and let myself break.
I sobbed until my chest ached and there were no more tears to cry.
What kind of cruel fate waits for my child—threats of death before it's even been born?
No matter how composed I look on the outside, fear crawls under my skin.
My family isn't ordinary; they're dangerous—the kind of werewolf pack people whisper about.
If they're the ones making threats, I have to be careful.
And then there's its father.
What if he rejects our baby?
What if he tells me to end it?
He already hates me—how could this make anything easier?
That was when my grandfather stepped into the chaos.
He found out about my pregnancy and, for the first time in days, brought a sense of calm. He spoke to me gently, soothed my trembling, and somehow even managed to convince my parents.
But when it came to Kai… I was terrified. I couldn't face him myself, so I asked my grandfather to talk to him instead.
My grandfather decided it would be wiser to speak with Kai's parents rather than with Kai himself—and honestly, I didn't argue.
Kai would never agree to marry me on his own.
So Grandfather went to kai's parents instead, asking them to talk to Kai about taking responsibility.
At first, he refused— angry, confused, and unwilling to accept the truth.
But once he realized the weight of the situation, he finally agreed. After all, why should an innocent child suffer for the mistakes of its parents?
We married quietly during my second month of pregnancy.
But fate was cruel—I lost the baby soon after.
The doctor said it happened because of stress—probably from all the chaos surrounding our lives.
He was devastated, and his grief quickly turned into resentment toward me.
Over time, though, he began to return to his usual self… but by then, something in me had changed too.
I had started to hate him as well.
I was the mother. How could he ever think I could go a single day without grieving for my child?
How could he believe I could swallow even a drop of water, knowing that my own body was the reason my baby never got to live?
Despite everything, a part of me still cared for him— whether he ever realized it or not.
After a year, things slowly began to settle between us.
He eventually called off the divorce.
We had only married for the baby's future, and once the baby was gone, we thought there was no reason to stay together.
But somehow… we did.
After becoming a doctor— just as he'd aimed for since med school— he threw himself completely into his work.
The long hours, the endless shifts, the weight of responsibility— it changed him.
He grew distant, buried beneath exhaustion and something else I couldn't name.
A wall I couldn't climb.
He'd come home late at night, long after I'd drifted to sleep, and leave before sunrise— never seeing my face in the morning light.
Our non existent connection withered in silence.
Work wasn't just a priority anymore—it had become his escape.
And though we lived under the same roof, shared a bed sometimes… it felt like we were drifting further apart each day.
We'd become nothing more than strangers sharing a space— rarely talking, barely connecting.
With him gone most of the time— coming home late and leaving before I wake— it's like we don't even share a life anymore.
We aren't even roommates… roommates at least coexist.
We just… occupy the same silence.
My parents still can't accept Kai. He was never their first choice— far from it. In their eyes, I was meant for someone powerful, someone worthy of a Luna… an alpha of high status. Not an omega with no title, no name in the hierarchy.
But fate loves irony.
They planned, they schemed, they tried to control every thread of my future… and yet here we are— bound by blood.. by matehood..
So much for their perfect design.
I guess fate plays its games after all.
Today was our fourth wedding anniversary. Unlike the previous years— where he'd been consumed by work or distant from me— this time around, something felt different.
The past five months had brought a subtle change. There were more moments of genuine conversation, fewer late nights spent apart. He still worked hard, of course, but he found a little more time for us. For me.
It was a fragile progress, but it was progress nonetheless.
Little moments became the new normal: warm "good mornings" as we rose, quiet breakfasts shared together, the gentle brush of his lips against my forehead in silent goodbye… even nights tangled under the sheets, his arms around me protectively in sleep.
This wasn't the detached, distant Kai I remembered. He was different now— kinder, closer, more present. More mine.
Sometimes I caught myself smiling when I thought of it.
The next morning, the sunlight poured softly through the kitchen window as I busied myself making breakfast.
The scent of butter and toasted bread filled the air.
I was lost in my thoughts when suddenly, a pair of familiar arms wrapped around me from behind.
"What are you making?" Kai's voice was low, husky, his breath warm against my neck.
"Bread omelet" I replied, smiling faintly, though I didn't turn around.
"I don't want that" he murmured, pressing a trail of light kisses along my shoulder.
My hands froze. "Then wh–what do you want?" I stammered, the words catching in my throat as his fingers slid under the hem of my t-shirt, tracing slow, teasing circles against my skin.
I turned my head slightly, confused but breathless, meeting his gaze. His eyes were dark and unreadable, but there was a flicker of— want? maybe even affection.
Before I could process it, he effortlessly lifted me and set me down on the kitchen counter. My heart skipped a beat as he leaned close, his lips brushing my ear.
"I'm craving something else" he whispered, his voice a mix of longing and mischief.
I drew in a shaky breath, my heart pounding as his eyes lingered on my lips.
The air between us grew thick, charged with something fragile and forbidden.
I bit my lower lip, hesitating for just a moment before giving in—grabbing his shirt and pulling him into a kiss.
It was desperate, tender, and fleeting all at once.
When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathless.
His forehead rested against mine for a second before he whispered, voice low and heavy with guilt, "I'm sorry."