Eren stood still, his breath shallow, his heart thudding so loudly he could barely hear anything else. Adriel's words echoed in his mind—"my wife"—but instead of comfort, they brought a strange mix of warmth and fear. He had defended him. Chosen him. Claimed him.
But now all eyes were on him, and he felt like he was standing under a spotlight he never asked for. His pheromones trembled faintly in the air, curling small and defensive, as if his instincts wanted to hide him from the scrutiny.
Claude, on the other hand, looked like someone who had just been slapped by a truth he hadn't seen coming.
His arms dropped slowly to his sides. "You're serious," he muttered, almost to himself. His voice had lost its sharp edge. "You really married him."
Adriel didn't answer. He didn't need to. His Alpha presence was steady, unwavering, filling the silence.
Claude's gaze drifted back to Eren, and this time, there was no mockery in his eyes—just disbelief. And something else. Something that looked a lot like loss.
"When?" he asked quietly. "When did this happen?"
Eren's throat tightened. He parted his lips, but no words came. He didn't even know how to explain what they were—what they were becoming. Everything between them still felt fragile, undefined. And now it was being tested in front of someone who once held Adriel's heart.
Adriel answered for him, his voice calm but absolute. "A few months ago."
Claude blinked. His eyes flicked toward Eren's stomach. "And the baby?"
Eren's hand moved instinctively, pressing protectively over the swell of his belly. His scent quivered, faint and uncertain. He didn't know if he was supposed to speak, but the silence pressed down like a weight.
"It's mine," Adriel said simply. The Alpha's voice carried through the room like a strike of iron.
Claude stiffened. His face wavered, the composure slipping. He turned sharply, striding toward the door. But just before his hand touched the handle, his shoulders went rigid.
Slowly, he turned back. His scent had sharpened—bitterness laced through with the sting of something raw and unhealed. His golden eyes burned.
"So that's it?" His voice trembled, not with sorrow, but with rage held tightly in check. "You moved on. Just like that."
Adriel's brows drew together, his voice low and steady. "Claude—"
"No," Claude snapped, stepping back into the room. His shoes struck the polished floor like gunshots, his pheromones spiking sharp and bitter. "You don't get to act like I'm the one who walked away and you were just some poor abandoned soul who had no choice but to replace me."
Eren flinched at the word replace. His scent curled small and defensive, tightening around him like a shield.
"You said you loved me," Claude continued, voice rising, anger riding his scent until it filled the room. "You said you'd wait. That no matter what, you'd be there when I was ready. And now what? You marry the first Omega who looks at you like you're some tragic Alpha in need of saving?"
Adriel's jaw tightened, his Alpha presence pressing low and heavy in warning. "Don't do this."
"Why not?" Claude shot back. "Because it's true? Because deep down, you know he's not me? You think I don't see it? He's plain. He doesn't belong in your world, Adriel. He doesn't challenge you. He doesn't understand you. He's just… safe."
Eren's breath caught. His fists curled at his sides, knuckles white. His pheromones trembled, shaky and thin, betraying the sting Claude's words left behind.
"You think this is about safety?" Adriel's voice dropped, low and dangerous, thick with Alpha command. "You think I married him because he's simple?"
Claude laughed bitterly, the sound brittle, breaking in the middle. His scent soured with scorn. "Did you? Because it sure looks like you settled. And don't pretend it's love. You're not even looking at him the way you used to look at me."
Adriel stepped forward, closing the distance, his Alpha presence surging like a tide. "You're right," he said, sharp and cutting. "I don't look at him the way I looked at you."
Claude blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
"Because with you, I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop," Adriel continued. "Always wondering when you'd leave again. With him…" His voice softened as he turned toward Eren, his pheromones wrapping warm and protective around the trembling Omega. "I don't have to wonder. I don't have to chase. I can just be."
Eren's eyes shimmered, but he held his ground, drawing strength from the steady weight of Adriel's claim.
Claude's face twisted, pride cracking beneath rejection. His pheromones lashed sharp and acrid. "You really think he's enough for you?"
Adriel didn't hesitate. His voice was cold, absolute. "He's more than enough."
Claude stared, lips parting as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Then his gaze snapped to Eren, sharp and venomous.
"Enjoy it while it lasts," he hissed, his scent spiking cruel and caustic. "Because one day, he'll remember what it's like to be with someone who actually belongs in his world."
Eren met his gaze, his own scent trembling but steadying as he found his voice. "Maybe. But I'd rather be chosen for who I am… than remembered for who I pretended to be."
Claude's eyes narrowed, rage flaring hot, but he didn't reply. He spun on his heel and stormed out, his pheromones trailing bitter and broken in his wake. The door slammed behind him, the sound like a final punctuation mark.
Silence fell again.
Adriel turned to Eren, his hand reaching for his. "Are you okay?"
Eren nodded slowly, though his chest still ached. His pheromones curled tight and thin, trying to fold in on themselves. "I don't know if I'll ever be enough for people like him."
Adriel cupped his face gently, his thumb brushing against his cheek. His Alpha scent pressed warm and steady around Eren, pushing back against the bitter trace Claude had left behind. "You don't have to be enough for him," he said softly. "You're enough for me."
And this time, Eren believed it—just a little more than before.
The door had clicked shut behind Claude, but the echo of his scent still lingered in the room, acrid and sour, like smoke that refused to fade.
Eren stood still, his arms wrapped around himself, as if trying to hold everything in—his breath, his thoughts, his unraveling composure. His pheromones trembled faintly, a wavering note of fear and shame. Adriel didn't speak right away. He just watched him, his expression unreadable, until finally he stepped closer.
"Eren," he said softly.
Eren didn't look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's right."
Adriel's brow furrowed. "About what?"
"I don't belong in your world." His voice cracked, his scent pulling tighter, smaller. "I don't look like him. I don't talk like him. I don't know how to carry myself in rooms like this. And when he looked at me like I was nothing—like I was just some… mistake—I believed him. Because part of me already thinks that."
Adriel stepped in front of him, tilting his chin up until Eren had no choice but to meet his eyes. The gesture was gentle, but it carried Alpha weight, a reminder of claim and steadiness.
"Don't," Adriel said. "Don't let him get in your head. He came here expecting to pick up where he left off. He thought I'd still be waiting. But I wasn't. Because I found something better."
Eren blinked, his voice trembling. "Better?"
"Yes," Adriel said without hesitation. His scent flared warmer, rich and certain, wrapping around Eren like a shield. "Someone who doesn't play games. Someone who doesn't run when things get hard. Someone who sees me—not the version of me that fits into some perfect picture, but the real me. And I see you too, Eren. All of you."
Eren let out a shaky breath, his defenses beginning to crumble. "I didn't know what to say. When he looked at me like I was just… temporary. Like I was just holding your place until he came back."
Adriel's hand found his, steady and warm, his thumb brushing over Eren's knuckles in a grounding rhythm. "You're not temporary. You're not a placeholder. You're the reason I stopped waiting."
Eren's eyes welled, but this time he didn't look away. His scent trembled—still fragile, but steadier now, wrapped in the warmth of Adriel's claim.
"I was scared," he admitted, voice breaking. "That you'd see him and remember what it felt like to be with someone like him. That you'd realize I'm not enough."
Adriel leaned in, his forehead resting gently against Eren's. His scent pressed warm and steady around them, wrapping over the frayed edges of Eren's own like a protective shield. "You are enough," he murmured. "You're more than enough. And I didn't just say that to shut him up—I said it because it's true."
Eren closed his eyes, letting the heat of Adriel's pheromones sink into the cracks Claude's words had left behind. His own scent, sharp with doubt, slowly began to even out, steadier now beneath the Alpha's grounding presence.
"I don't know how to be perfect," he whispered.
"Good," Adriel said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Because I'm not looking for perfect. I'm looking for real. And you, Eren… you're the most real thing I've ever had."
A shaky laugh slipped from Eren, the tightness in his chest loosening for the first time since Claude walked in. "You're really bad at this whole 'comforting' thing, you know."
Adriel grinned, brushing his thumb over the back of Eren's hand, his scent curling richer, fonder. "Yeah, but I'm great at meaning it."
They stood there in silence, tethered by more than touch—their scents mingling, steady and sure, until the bitter trace of Claude's presence faded from the air. The storm he'd brought had passed.
And for the first time that day, Eren didn't feel like he was standing in someone else's shadow. He felt like he was finally being written into a story of his own—one he and Adriel would choose together.