Eren glanced at Adriel's desk. Empty, as always. The Alpha had left earlier with Roen, summoned to the main office by his father. Several days had passed since Eren had been named his secretary, yet Adriel hadn't given him a single task. Roen managed the schedule, the directives, everything.
Eren spent his hours mostly in silence, sketching when he could. His sketchbook grew heavier each day with designs he doubted anyone would ever see, not when their branch overflowed with talent and competition.
The office was quiet now, filled only with the steady hum of computers and the occasional rustle of papers from beyond the glass walls. Mid-morning, the clock reminded him. Too early to feel restless, yet he already did. He sighed softly, flipped open his sketchbook, and let his pencil glide across a fresh page. A bracelet was beginning to take shape beneath his hand when a knock at the door interrupted him.
The door opened just enough for a young intern to peek in. "Mr. Eren, there's a package for you," he said, holding out a small box.
Curious, Eren accepted it. Inside was a container filled with ripe strawberries, their sweet scent rising immediately. On top lay a folded note, written in Adriel's unmistakable hand:
I am a little busy. Make sure not to skip your meal.
Eren's lips curved before he could stop them. He told himself it was nothing—just concern because of the child he carried. Still, warmth spread through him at the Alpha's thoughtfulness. For a man who seemed so distant, Adriel had an uncanny way of surprising him with quiet gestures like this.
He plucked a strawberry from the container, savoring its sweetness, then carried it out onto the balcony adjoining the office. The gentle breeze tangled with the fruit's aroma, cooling his skin as he leaned against the railing. For a rare moment, the silence felt like comfort instead of emptiness. His thoughts lingered on the note. Adriel was always busy, always guarded, yet he had taken the time to think of him. A simple thing, but it stirred something Eren wasn't ready to name.
The click of the office door startled him. He turned, expecting the intern again. Instead, Tyler stepped inside.
The Beta's scent reached him first—clean, but edged with something metallic, like iron beneath rain. It wasn't strong enough to fill the room as an Alpha's would, but it carried irritation, sharp and undeniable. It cut through the sweetness of strawberries in the air, and the shift made Eren's stomach tighten.
His hand gripped the railing a little harder. Of all people, Tyler was the last he wanted to find him alone.
"It looks like you're enjoying the perks of being the president's secretary," Tyler drawled as his eyes fell on the sketchbook lying open on Eren's desk. Without waiting for permission, he strolled over, snatched it up, and began flipping through the pages with deliberate slowness.
"Out of all the secretaries here, you're the one I see doing nothing," he went on, his mouth curling into a smirk. "Tell me—you're not seriously thinking of joining the design competition, are you?"
Eren's jaw tightened. Heat prickled at the back of his neck, and though he kept his voice polite, his Omega scent spiked faintly, betraying his irritation. "Everyone deserves a chance to create. It doesn't matter what position they hold." He reached out for the sketchbook, but Tyler pulled it just out of reach.
"Oh, please," Tyler scoffed, flipping to another page. "These sketches are amateur at best. Competing against professionals? You'll embarrass yourself." His scent sharpened, a Beta's clean but metallic tang, cutting through the sweetness of strawberries still lingering in the air.
Eren gripped the edge of his desk, knuckles white. Tyler's words stung, but he refused to drop his gaze. These designs came from his heart, and he would not let anyone belittle that.
Tyler leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You know, I still don't get it—how you ended up here. James said Adriel's uncle plans to marry you? Out of all the Omegas in the world, why would the most sought-after Alpha bachelor choose his nephew's secretary? What charm did you use on him?"
Eren's pulse quickened. He hated the way Tyler said it, as if everything between him and Adriel was some cheap trick. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice steady, even as his scent betrayed a flicker of agitation. "Adriel has been nothing but kind and supportive. I didn't ask for this. And I certainly didn't 'charm' him."
Tyler gave a short, bitter laugh, rolling his eyes. "Sure. Whatever you say. But don't think the rest of us aren't asking the same question. Why you, Eren? Why does Adriel treat you like you're something special?"
The words hung in the air like smoke, thick and suffocating.
Just as Eren was about to respond, the office door opened again. Roen stepped inside, slightly out of breath. His sharp eyes landed immediately on the Beta.
"Tyler, what are you doing here?" Roen asked, irritation threading his voice.
Tyler's expression shifted in an instant. His smirk melted into something sweet, practiced. "Oh, Roen, I was just having a little chat with Eren," he said lightly, his voice smooth as glass.
Roen's gaze flicked between them, narrowing. "Whatever it is, it can wait. Adriel needs you in the main office." His tone left no room for argument.
Tyler's smile faltered for half a second, then he straightened. "Of course. I'll be right there." He turned as if to leave, but his eyes cut back to Eren, sharp and deliberate.
"Oh, before I forget—our college batch reunion is tomorrow night," Tyler said, his Beta scent sharpening with smug amusement. His gaze flicked to Eren's freshly colored hair. "I wonder what they'll say when they see you. Change your hair all you like—you'll always be the same loser you were back then."
The smirk that followed was knife-thin, and his footsteps echoed against the floor as he walked out.
Eren's stomach knotted, Tyler's words burrowing deep. His own Omega scent soured faintly, betraying the turmoil he tried to mask. He sank into his chair, drawing a shaky breath, but the memories came rushing back regardless—days in college filled with whispers, laughter at his expense, sketches dismissed before he could explain them.
His eyes drifted to the small mirror on his desk. The hair staring back at him was different now, a bold color he'd chosen to mark a new chapter. Yet Tyler's words twisted that reflection, turning it into doubt.
Surely his old classmates would be surprised to see him like this. Or perhaps they wouldn't recognize him at all. Maybe it would be better if they didn't.
Eren pushed himself up from his chair, forcing his feet toward the hallway. He greeted colleagues with polite nods, but their smiles blurred, distant. His thoughts stayed anchored to Tyler's cruelty.
In the pantry, he poured himself a cup of milk and leaned against the counter, the cool surface grounding him. Should he go to the reunion? The thought filled him with both excitement and dread. He had changed—or at least he thought he had. But Tyler's voice still echoed, whispering that maybe nothing had changed at all.