Having a family to wake up to every morning was something Princess loved the most. Before Faye and the kids arrived at the clubhouse, it wasn’t a home but a place for business, clubbing, and racing. It was because she wanted to keep her family close that she had begun to change and feel happier than she had before. Her lungs had finally filled with the sweet, clean scent of baby powder and warm laundry, her chest rising and falling with a peaceful rhythm she had never known in her entire life.
When Faye told her she needed some time with the pups, it felt like her heart had shattered into a million pieces. The sudden declaration had hit her like a physical blow to the stomach, knocking all the air straight out of her lungs and leaving her throat completely dry. It might have been a temporary decision, but the real issue was how she was going to cope for six months. Six months of total silence. Six months of empty space.
Going on a break meant no adventurous bath time for six months, no happily waking up very early in the morning to prepare for school with the pups, no checking the nursery cam to see how the pups were. She wouldn’t get to hear their high-pitched giggles as water splashed over the tub, or feel the frantic, busy rush of matching tiny socks in the dim light before dawn. The small screen of her phone, which used to stay lit up on her nightstand showing the three babies sleeping in their cribs, was completely dark now, looking cold and useless.
No cuddling in bed with the girl she loved, no morning kisses or sex, no spending time together with the girl she loved in the bathroom, or cuddling together on the balcony. The lack of touch was like a constant ache in her bones, making her breathing short and ragged.
No making new dishes and watching her girlfriend eat while waiting for her feedback.
Every night when Princess woke up, she spent most of her time watching her girlfriend sleep. She would lie perfectly still, her breath coming in slow, quiet waves so she wouldn’t disturb the peaceful girl beside her, her fingers tracing the outline of her jaw from a distance.
But now, the space on the bed felt far too big for Princess to sleep on. She would stretch her arm out in the middle of the night, only to touch the cold, flat sheet on the other side of the mattress, her heart giving a violent, painful thud as the reality slammed back into her brain.
In the morning when she woke up, Princess would forget that she was supposed to prepare breakfast for only one person and would end up making too much. The silence in the kitchen was deafening, the extra food sitting there like a monument to her own loneliness.
Princess wouldn’t even eat before going to school. From her car, she watched as Faye carried the pups to their stroller and dropped Kaye off at the other school building.
When she thought she would be having lunch with her family, it would just be her and the pups in the classroom. Her eyes would always stop at the door, hoping Faye was standing there secretly like always. But it never did.
Whenever she felt Faye around, she would pretend to be entertained by whatever the people around her were talking about so she wouldn’t make Faye worry. She would force a loud, booming laugh through her teeth, her chest rising with a fake, heavy breath as she nodded at her classmates’ jokes, all while her eyes darted to the doorway to make sure Faye saw her smiling. She didn’t want the omega to see the dark, hollow circles under her eyes or the way her hands trembled when she was left alone.
Even when she took the pups home, it still never felt the same. This was definitely different from the time when Faye had to study overtime and would come home late.
At least Faye still got to sleep by her side at the end of the day. Back then, no matter how late the clock ticked, the warmth of her girlfriend would eventually slide under the covers, her small hands reaching out to hold onto Princess’s waist.
Being with her kids now had a time limit, something she had always been scared of. She had to watch the time constantly, her heart rate speeding up as the minutes ticked closer to the evening deadline.
She did everything she could not to end up like her brother Leo, who had to share his daughter with his ex. The thought of being a part-time parent made a cold, furious panic flare up in her blood, her jaw locking so tight it made her heart ache.
Six months felt like an eternity to Princess. It was a massive, dark tunnel with no light at the end, every single second dragging like a heavy weight tied to her ankles.
Malo would come by at 7 p.m. to pick up the pups and return them to their mommy. Beam and Kiara would leave after that to continue with their daily lives, leaving only Princess by herself.
Princess would spend half the night playing video games and the other half crying alone in her room, feeling abandoned all over again. She would grip the controller with enough force to crack the plastic, her eyes staring blankly at the flashing screen while her lungs struggled to pull in a full breath. When the screen finally went dark, she would curl up on the empty side of the bed, her face buried in Faye’s pillow as heavy, silent tears finally spilled over her eyelids, her chest heaving with deep, painful shudders.
She regretted saying those words. If she hadn’t told Faye that she didn’t deserve to be a mom, maybe they would still be with her. Or if she had kept her promise when she told Faye she wasn’t going to walk out or get angry, then Faye would be cuddling her to sleep right now, her small, warm body pressed against her chest.
If she had known that the hug from Faye was going to be the last one for a long time, she would never have let her down from her waist. She would have locked her arms around the omega’s thighs forever, holding her close to her scent gland and ignoring the rest of the world.
Princess wasn’t angry anymore. All the fury about the Lycan contract and the lies had completely burned out, leaving behind nothing but a cold, hollow gray ash.
She just wanted everything to go back to normal. She wanted the noise, the mess, the sticky fingers on her shirts, and the warm weight of her family surrounding her.
Living alone felt like punishment. It was a silent, agonizing torture that made her feel like a ghost wandering through the empty rooms of the clubhouse.
A six-month punishment without the family she thought was hers.