Fallen General's Omega (BL)-Chapter 246: Friends his age

Oliver’s POV

"Well, we’ve got to go. It was nice meeting you. It’s great for Mirelle to have a playmate," Noelle says, rising to his feet with effortless grace.

Victor and I follow suit, watching as he gathers himself. Even heavily pregnant, there’s a natural elegance to him that I’ll never understand.

"Yeah, for our son too," I reply, offering a polite nod.

I meant it.

It’s rare for our boy to have other children to play with, and even if Mirelle is a tiny bit terrifying, I can see how their energy matches. Besides, she’s clearly protective over him already—like she’s claimed him as hers.

"When you have time, please come and visit," Noelle continues. "We just moved here—or are in the process of moving—for the kids."

There’s something warm in his tone, something genuine.

I don’t know if he means it as an olive branch, or if he’s just the type of person who welcomes people naturally, without hesitation. Either way, the offer lingers in the air, an invitation I’m not sure what to do with.

All Thorne does is give a vague nod of acknowledgment.

A stark contrast to the immense rage, anger, and grief that once radiated off him the last time we met.

As soon as Noelle and Thorne disappear from sight, Victor exhales a breath I hadn’t even realized he was holding. It’s long, slow, like he’d been bracing for something the entire time.

I glance at him, eyebrow raised.

"What are the odds?" I murmur, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. My fingers idly drum against the small bundle in my arms—our son, now fast asleep. A little demon, truly, but ours nonetheless.

Victor doesn’t answer right away. His gaze lingers on the restaurant entrance, his posture tense even as he sits. He rolls his shoulders, trying to shake off whatever weight just settled over him.

"Yeah," he finally says, but nothing more.

I don’t push him.

For me, Thorne was my first love—a feeling that once consumed me but has long since faded into something distant, something I can look at with quiet acceptance.

For Victor, though, it’s different.

They weren’t just comrades. They were something deeper, something forged in fire and war, in battles that neither I nor our family could ever truly understand.

The void that formed when we left—it was never filled.

And maybe it never will be.

*

We arrive at our accommodations just as the evening air cools, the distant hum of the bustling coastal city fading into the background. The moment we step inside, Nancy greets us with a warm, knowing smile, immediately taking Adrian from Victor’s arms.

"Seems like young master Adrian had an eventful day," she says, adjusting the sleeping boy with practiced ease.

"Yeah," I say softly, my lips brushing against Adrian’s forehead as I cradle his little face in my hands for a moment. "He did."

Nancy gives me a nod before disappearing into the house, heading to put him to bed. I linger for a second, watching them go before exhaling and making my way upstairs.

I need a bath.

The moment I step into the steaming water, my muscles relax, tension melting away as the heat seeps into my skin. I close my eyes, letting my head rest against the edge of the tub. The scent of lavender and sandalwood drifts around me, calming, grounding.

For a while, it’s just me, the sound of water rippling gently, the faint crackle of a lantern in the corner.

And then—Victor walks in.

Completely bare.

His weapon of mass destruction out in the open for all to see as if we weren’t having a perfectly normal and peaceful evening.

I lift an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Make space for me," he says, completely unbothered.

I roll my eyes but shift forward anyway, making room as he sinks into the bath behind me. The water overflows slightly, sloshing over the edges onto the marble floor, but neither of us really care.

Victor leans back, exhaling sharply, as if he’s been holding something in for far too long. I lean against his chest, letting my fingers skim lightly over the surface of the water before trailing to his hands, which are gripping the edge of the tub far too tightly.

I pry his fingers free.

"Don’t take your anger out on the tub," I murmur, intertwining my fingers with his.

He doesn’t answer immediately.

Just sighs.

Instead, I squeeze his hand gently.

And, after a moment—he squeezes back.

The warmth of the bath wraps around us, steam curling into the air, but the tension in Victor’s body hasn’t faded completely. It lingers beneath his skin, a quiet weight pressing against me as he exhales.

"Want to take Adrian to go and see them tomorrow?" he asks, his voice casual—but I can feel the deliberate effort behind it.

"I mean, he needs friends his age."

I tilt my head slightly, eyeing him from the corner of my vision.

"Uh-huh. Not because you wish to see your old comrades?" I ask, my tone light, teasing.

Victor doesn’t answer immediately, but the silence is enough. I feel his muscles tense against my back, his grip around my waist just a little tighter.

I smirk. Got you.

"Fine," I say after a moment, letting the amusement bleed from my voice. "It’s good for him to be around kids his own age."

Victor finally relaxes, his fingers tracing idle patterns along my forearm as the tension eases from his shoulders.

And then—

I feel something press against my back.

I roll my eyes.

Of course.

This man’s stamina is absolutely insane. We’ve had a long day, spent time wrangling a chaotic toddler, dealt with unexpected run-ins with our past, and now—this.

I turn in the tub, shifting so that I’m facing him, water rippling between us.

His face is so annoyingly handsome. That rough, rugged appeal, the dark eyes that miss nothing, the sharp lines of his jaw softened slightly by the dim glow of candlelight.

His gaze flickers down to my lips, then back up, watching me closely.

I lift a hand, running my thumb slowly along his lower lip, enjoying the way he stills beneath the touch.

"Think we have time before Nancy calls us down?" I murmur, my voice low, teasing.

Victor smirks.

"Does it matter?" he counters.

I laugh—soft, quiet—before leaning in for a kiss.