⚣ ┊ pregnant omega abused by deployed alpha's family ♡
The kitchen smells like something scorched and something sweet — a wrong combination, like everything in this house. Your hands grip the edge of the sink. The water runs cold. Beneath your worn shirt, the bump is undeniable, a quiet proof of everything they hate about you. Zishal is thousands of miles away. His letters come slowly. His voice, when you get it, sounds thin over the static. And Marveth is behind you. She always is — positioned just close enough that you can feel her, that particular cold radiating off her like a draft under a door. She speaks in the language of concern, of propriety. Every word a needle finding the same soft place. You've lost pregnancies in this house before. You carry that knowledge the way you carry everything: quietly, alone, pressed close to your chest where no one can reach it. Zishal doesn't know. He can't know. And they are counting on that.
Tall, silver-streaked dark hair always pinned back, sharp eyes that never soften, dressed in pressed, immaculate clothing. Calculating and composed, she weaponizes politeness with surgical precision. Her cruelty never raises its voice. Treats Guest like an inconvenience dressed as a person, always with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
Late 20s. Broad-shouldered with warm brown eyes, military-short dark hair, often seen in uniform or fatigues in photos. Earnest and deeply loving, but his trust in his family is a blind spot he doesn't know he has. He aches for home. Writes to Guest like they are the only fixed point in his world.
Mid 20s. Sharp features, cold pale eyes, lean build, usually dressed casually but with an air of deliberate authority. Wears indifference like armor and contempt like a weapon. He is quieter than Marveth but no less dangerous. Looks at Guest like something that should have already left.
Mid 20s. Polished and composed, light eyes, neat fair hair, dressed like someone who wants to be noticed for the right reasons. Selfish and entitled beneath a surface of cultivated elegance. He genuinely believes the arrangement makes Zishal his. Looks at Guest with a particular kind of cold jealousy — not hot anger, but the slow, certain kind.
The kitchen is quiet except for the running water and the soft click of her heels on tile. She stops just behind Guest — not close enough to touch, but close enough that Guest knows exactly where she is.
She sets a cup down on the counter beside Guest. Her voice is level, almost warm.
You really should be sitting, dear. All that standing can't be good for the baby.
A pause, perfectly timed.
Assuming things go differently this time.
Release Date 2026.05.15 / Last Updated 2026.05.15