The silence stretched between us, heavy and unspoken, until Lukas broke it unexpectedly. His voice was calm but carried a hint of self-reproach.
"Anyways, you should blame me," he said softly.
I was momentarily stunned, caught off guard by his words. Why does he always blame himself?
He continued, his tone tinged with a quiet sadness. "My mother was an Omega, and my father was an Alpha, but I never met him."
I wasn't sure why Lukas was suddenly sharing such a painful part of his past, but what shocked me even more was what he said next.
"My mom was raped and completely marked by my father, and yet she still decided to give birth to me," he revealed quietly.
A wave of emotion washed over me—shock, sympathy, and an inexplicable ache in my chest. I felt a strange, indescribable feeling stir within me, as if his words had touched a deep, hidden part of my heart. I listened silently, offering no words, only that quiet presence, understanding that some stories carry a weight so heavy they're better left unspoken, yet somehow need to be heard.
Lukas' words continued to unfold with a raw honesty that left me stunned.
"The society at that time did not have any law protecting Omegas. And that man never appeared again. In my impression, my mother can't be marked with others anymore since she was already marked, but that man and my mom had no relationship at all. Mom tried to find that man but in the end, gave up because she needed to take care of me. If it wasn't for me, then she would have committed suicide long ago. Although the council later created a law saying that Omegas marked by Alphas or Lunas must be married to show responsibility, which reduced the death rate among Omegas, there is still a lot of controversy, just like ours," he bluntly pointed out.
He looked at me with a somber expression. "Although I can't fully understand it, I can see it from you and maybe from my mother—that you can't marry someone you love. It seemed like a really painful thing."
A heavy silence followed his words. I felt a dull ache in my heart, unsure whether it was my own emotion or influenced by his story. My mind drifted back to what I had just said to him, and an overwhelming wave of guilt washed over me.
"I'm sorry... I don't know," I whispered, feeling lost and inadequate.
His voice softened, tinged with regret. "It's me who should apologize. I did the same thing as that bastard." He paused, then added quietly, "Although this is very painful for you, I'm actually glad at least I still have a chance to make amends."
That night, I couldn't sleep. His confession kept circling in my mind. I finally understood why he kept apologizing to me since we first met. Because he thinks that he has done the most unforgivable thing, the guilt from his family has stained his existing life with a stain that can never be removed, and now an accident has happened, it is hard to imagine what it was like to carry a heavy burden.
That night, I lay awake, unable to find rest. Lukas' confession continued to echo in my mind, each word a heavy weight pressing down on my thoughts. I finally began to understand why he had kept apologizing to me since we first met. It wasn't just politeness or guilt—he believed he had committed the most unforgivable sin. The guilt from his family, the shame that seemed to stain his very existence, felt like an indelible mark that could never be erased. And now, with the accident he mentioned, it was as if that burden had become even more unbearable, impossible to carry alone.
I wondered what kind of life he had led all these years. Was it because of his father that he had been resisting his Alpha instincts? Was it that same reason that kept him single for so long, never allowing himself to truly experience love? The questions haunted me, but I had no answers.
The dull ache in my heart grew heavier, sinking deeper into my chest instead of fading away. It felt bitter, an emotion I couldn't shake, as if I was tasting the pain that he carried silently. That night, as the darkness wrapped around us, I realized that some wounds are invisible but deeply felt, and some burdens are born quietly, shaping the lives of those who bear them in ways we may never fully understand.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
The next morning, I woke up groggily. The faint sunlight barely filtering through the curtains. My mind was still foggy from restless sleep. I checked my phone out of habit—sure enough, a message from my boss confirming that I was on sick leave, thanks to Lukas's initiative. A small, bittersweet feeling tugged at my chest.
I tried to get up, eager to start my day, but exhaustion still weighed heavily on me. I hesitated, then sank back onto the bed, feeling the heaviness in my limbs. Sleep had been elusive; nightmares haunted me, vivid and unsettling. Tossing and turning, I couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped in a dreamscape I couldn't wake from.
Time blurred—I wasn't sure how long I had been like this—half in sleep, half aware. The sky outside was completely dark, an unnatural gloom that matched my mood. I knew I needed to turn on the lights, but my body refused to cooperate. The fatigue was overwhelming, and I drifted into a state of suspended awareness, until suddenly, I felt someone lift me gently.
A familiar scent—soft, warm, reassuring—wafted across my senses. It was Lukas. His presence was soothing, grounding me just enough to slowly open my eyes in vague consciousness.
"You have a fever, go back to sleep again," Lukas' voice whispered softly.
I don't know whether I responded or not, but I felt the gentle grip of his hand as I instinctively clung to his sleeve, as if I couldn't bear to let him go. His reassuring touch seemed to anchor me in that fragile moment.
"I'm not leaving. Go to sleep now," he said again, his tone tender but firm.
My throat was hoarse, and I struggled to form words, only able to rasp out a faint sound. The scent of him enveloped me, wrapping around my senses like a warm blanket. Despite the discomfort that lingered in my body, my spirit found comfort in his presence.
With his calming words and the soothing rhythm of his breath, I closed my eyes once more. Gradually, I drifted into a peaceful sleep, feeling protected and cared for in that quiet, tender moment.
I am not a person who gets sick easily. It's just that I caught a cold this time, coupled with a sudden outbreak of depression after a long-standing emotional struggle. My mood fluctuated wildly, and I was unwell for several days. I don't know exactly how long I slept, but every time I opened my eyes, I saw Lukas—like he had stayed by my side the entire time, never leaving.
As I drifted in and out of consciousness, Jake's face seemed to fade away, replaced in my half-waking, half-sleeping state by another man's silent tenderness—Lukas'. His presence was a quiet reassurance amid the haze.
That day, my head finally stopped feeling drowsy, though my body remained drained, likely from neglecting to eat for a while. I glanced around the room; Lukas wasn't there, but I could still sense his scent lingering faintly in the air. I hesitated, lifting the quilt to sit up, feeling the urge to move.
Suddenly, the door opened, and Lukas entered just as I was about to get out of bed. In the past few days, Lukas had developed a gentle habit of testing my temperature by touching my forehead. As soon as he saw me sitting at the edge of the bed, he quickly reached out to check my temperature, his fingers warm against my skin.
His quick action made my face flush with a slight heat—part embarrassment, part the lingering warmth from his touch. Despite my fatigue, his tenderness made my heart flutter softly, a quiet reminder of the care he was willing to give.
"You're still a little hot, you should sleep for a while," Lukas said softly, his gaze gentle and concerned.
I shook my head, my voice hoarse from days of silence. "I already slept for too long, and my whole body is sore," I murmured, feeling the ache in every limb.
"Then eat something," he urged, his tone tender yet insistive.
Only then did I notice the bowl in his hand, the warm steam rising from it, inviting and comforting. My stomach rumbled softly, reminding me of how long I had gone without nourishment.
Humbled by hunger, I opened my mouth willingly, signaling that I was ready to eat. Lukas' eyes softened at my gesture, and he let out a small, reassuring smile.
Gently, he blew on the porridge to cool it before spoon-feeding me little by little.
I eagerly ate the porridge, savoring each spoonful. The dish was simple—barely seasoned, with only the natural sweetness of the vegetables and the comforting taste of rice. Despite its simplicity, it was incredibly delicious, evoking a sense of home and warmth that settled deep within me.
I didn't ask, but I couldn't help but notice that Lukas seemed to enjoy eating porridge often. Perhaps it was something he shared with his mother, a small yet meaningful connection to a past filled with love and care.
We didn't exchange a word after I finished eating, each of us immersed in our own thoughts.
With my recovery underway, Lukas returned to his frantic overtime work. Being the CEO was never easy, but he had always made time for me, going out of his way to care for my recovery. Now, with everything on his plate, his schedule was completely disrupted.
Nearly a week had passed since I last saw him. Guilt gnawed at me—feeling like I was a burden, I regretted my words and actions from that night when I was drunk. As an omega, I was naturally sentimental, and anyone who knew Lukas would understand the depth of my feelings.