Six years ago
Kael sat by the window, the rain tracing delicate paths down the glass like veins. The storm outside wasn't fierce, but steady. Constant. A quiet, grey kind of sadness that mirrored the feeling in his chest.
His suitcase sat by the door. One last bag. One last day.
The house was still. No footsteps, no goodbyes. His parents thought he was chasing academic prestige abroad. His siblings thought he needed space. His best friend—
No. Former best friend.
Zayden hadn't called in months. Hadn't texted. Hadn't asked why Kael stopped waiting at the school gate after class. Why he no longer brought double chocolate muffins in the mornings. Why his gaze stopped lingering on him in crowded rooms.
Maybe he hadn't noticed.
Or maybe… he had.
Kael closed his eyes, pressing his fingers to his lips where the scent of Zayden's cologne still haunted him—cologne that lingered not because of closeness, but because he couldn't forget it.
His designation results had come in a week ago.
Recessive omega.
No pheromones. No scent.
No place to belong.
The counselor offered to change his records quietly. Suggested a false beta registry for "social ease." His family never had to know. No one did.
And Kael agreed.
Not out of shame. Not entirely.
But because some truths were too dangerous. Too intimate. Too permanent. And in a world where dominant alphas were revered and recessive omegas overlooked, he preferred invisibility.
Even if it meant leaving everything behind.
Even if it meant walking away from him.
He didn't leave a note.
Didn't say goodbye.
Just left.
And told himself that if Zayden ever cared enough—he'd come looking.
But six years passed. And he never did.