Chapter 356

Daphne

I watch as Vivienne walks around in the hanfu, the silk fabric flowing around her like water.

She’s so pretty,the way the light catches her hair, the way she moves, the way she keeps touching the embroidery like she can’t believe it’s real.

She turns her head, and for a moment, she looks like Yuxi.

The same angle. The same soft expression. The same way the light catches the curve of her jaw.

My breath catches.

But when she turns around completely, her stomach is unmistakable now,five I think months along, a round swell that the fabric drapes over beautifully. The illusion breaks.

Definitely not my film empress.

This is my omega. My wife. The woman carrying my child.

Which still feels absolutely ridiculous.

I walk toward her and take her hand.

"You’re staring again," she says. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"Always."

She smiles, but it’s nervous. "Do I look okay?"

"You look beautiful."

"The dress—"

"The dress is perfect." I lift our joined hands, press a kiss to her knuckles. "You’re perfect."

She laughs. "You have to say that. You’re my alpha."

"I’m saying it because it’s true."

I place a kiss on her forehead, then interlock our fingers. The gold bands catch the light, warm against our skin.

I’m actually here for work—something about inter-country relations and cultural exchange, at least that’s what they said. Honestly, it’s mostly a vacation.

Here, people don’t recognize Vivienne. They don’t know she was Damien’s fiancée, don’t know the scandal, don’t care about any of it. She’s just a woman in a hanfu, walking through ancient streets, her hand in mine.

We can walk around like a normal couple.

I bring our interlaced fingers to my lips. Press a kiss to her knuckles.

The wind blows through her hair, loosening strands from the delicate pins. Her eyes find mine—sparkling in the afternoon light, full of something I want to drown in.

Her freckles are so prominent today. Scattered across her nose and cheeks like constellations I want to memorize.

I am itching to have this scene painted.

The way the sunlight catches her. The way her hanfu moves around her. The way her stomach swells beneath the silk, round and full and ours.

She’s never looked more beautiful.

She’s glowing.

"What?" she asks, catching me staring.

"Nothing." I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "You’re just beautiful."

"I feel like a melon." She laughs, gesturing at her round belly.

"A beautiful melon." I bring my hand to the back of her neck, fingers grazing the sensitive skin there.She shudders—a full-body tremor that makes me smile.

"What do you think," I say, watching her eyes darken, "about a mating mark? After the child is born."

"Are you asking to mark me?" She raises an eyebrow, a fake gasp escaping her lips.

"Yes."

"You want to take our relationship to the next level." She’s amused now, playing with me.

"We’re married."

"Yeah, but marks are permanent, you know." She tilts her head. "Married couples can divorce."

I pull her closer, my hand still on her neck. "Never."

I press another kiss to our interlaced fingers. Let her see the seriousness in my eyes.

She studies me for a moment. Then:

"You know, for an Omega, it’s a big deal. I would never find another Alpha. My scent would always carry yours. I’d be marked." She pauses. "While you... you’d still be free. To have other Omegas."

I don’t hesitate.

"You’re the only one for me."

The words hang in the air between us.

She stands on her toes—as much as her belly allows—and places a kiss on my jaw. Soft. Tender. Real.

"I believe you," she says.

My heart swells.

"After the baby," I say.

The doctors were very clear about it—something about marking disrupting hormone levels, affecting the pregnancy, putting stress on both her and the child. I wasn’t really listening after "you can’t." I was too busy trying not to break something.

In conclusion, I can’t.

Even though each time we go to bed—each time she’s beneath me, breathless and wanting, her neck exposed and right there...I really, really, really want to bite her.

My teeth ache with it. My instincts scream.

But then I see her stomach. The round swell of it. The life growing inside her.

And I feel this weird sense of satisfaction.

I did that, I think. That’s ours.

The urge to mark fades. Just a little. Just enough.

Being an Alpha is weird, man.

"Come." I take her hand.

We walk down the streets of this foreign country hand in hand.

***

Vivienne

I wake up to pee—again—carefully escaping from Daphne’s clutches in bed. Her arm is heavy around my waist, her breath warm against my neck. I slip out slowly, holding my breath, and she doesn’t stir.

The bathroom is cold. The tiles are cold. Everything is cold.

I finish. Wash my hands. And then I just... sit there on the toilet seat, too lazy to get up.The baby is pressing on my bladder again already—it never ends. My back aches. My feet are swollen. I’m tired.

I should go back to bed before she worries.

But it’s too late.

There, in the doorway, sleepy with her hair sticking out in every direction, is my Alpha.

Her eyes are half-closed, her face soft with sleep, her lips slightly parted, her sticking out in pajama shorts and t shirt.

"What’s wrong?" Her voice is husky, rough, devastating.

My heart races.

"Nothing." I manage. "Just... peeing."

She stares at me. "You’ve been in here for ten minutes."

"You were counting?"

"I always count." She crosses the bathroom in three steps, kneels in front of me, and rests her head on my knee. "What’s wrong?"

"I’m tired." I put my arms out like a child. "Carry me."

She doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t roll her eyes or tell me I’m being ridiculous. She just stands, scoops me up, and settles me against her chest.

I’m so happy.

So happy it scares me.