[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega Chapter 359: Ice cream and happiness

By the ti Trevor eased him out of the clinic room and down the polished hallways, Lucas’s eyes still burned, but the tears had slowed to damp tracks on his cheeks. He hated the rawness of it, hated the way his body felt lighter and heavier all at once, as though crying had taken sothing out of him and given sothing back in the sa breath. Trevor didn’t let him walk alone, his hand not once left Lucas’s, the cedar threaded through every step like invisible armor.

The car ride back was quieter than the first. Lucas sat leaning into Trevor this ti, the side of his face against the alpha’s shoulder, not caring about the wrinkle in his jacket or the weight of his damp lashes. Trevor said nothing, didn’t press, and didn’t fill the silence. He only breathed slow and steady, letting Lucas match him, until the knot in his chest loosened enough that the trembling in his hands stilled.

When they returned to the manor, Windstone was waiting as though the world had been moving on its usual clock while theirs had fractured. His bow was rigid, but his pale green eyes softened faintly when they flicked over Lucas’s drawn face. "The sitting room is ready," he said, and led them inside.

The room was a cocoon of soft light, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun, a fire already kindling low in the grate despite the warmth of the season. Lucas sank onto the couch without protest, Trevor sitting close enough that their knees touched.

Windstone vanished for all of three minutes before returning with a tray, two crystal bowls, silver spoons, and ice cream scooped in perfect rounds. One bowl was crowned with pale vanilla, the other dark chocolate streaked with caral.

Lucas blinked at it, startled out of his haze. "Ice cream?"

Windstone set the tray on the low table, straightening with his usual dignity. "I’m aware of your... preference, but today you can choose. I will take it as ergency sugar."

The laugh broke out of him before he could stop it, shaky but real, a sound that startled even himself. Windstone inclined his head as if he’d accomplished sothing he planned for, then retreated with the sa dignity, leaving the two of them alone in the hush of the sitting room.

Lucas curled into the corner of the couch, spoon in hand, staring down at the pale crown of vanilla as though it held answers no monitor ever could. His shoulders eased, the raw edges of grief dulling into sothing gentler.

Pure and complete happiness. Faint, almost foreign, but creeping in all the sa.

It settled in his chest like warmth after frost, this fragile knowledge that he could carry the child he had once believed lost to him forever. That it wasn’t only his, but theirs. Theirs to want, theirs to guard, theirs to hope for.

He dug the spoon into the ice cream and took a bite, cold and sweet and sharp against his tongue. He smiled into it, surprised by the simple pleasure. "He’s right, you know," he said softly, looking at Trevor from under damp lashes. "Sugar is dicine."

Trevor had barely touched his bowl, but his gaze was steady, violet eyes intent on him rather than the dessert. "If it keeps you smiling like that," he said, quiet but fierce, "I’ll buy every sweet in the country."

Lucas’s chest tightened again, but this ti it wasn’t grief, it was the fragile, dizzy ache of joy. He set the spoon down and leaned into Trevor, letting his head rest against his shoulder, fingers brushing unconsciously over his own abdon.

For the first ti since stepping into the clinic, he didn’t feel broken or like he was waiting to break. He felt... whole. And though the future was uncertain, with risk and fear still circling like shadows, he could finally believe in the possibility of more.

Their child. Their family.

He closed his eyes, letting the warmth spread through him, and whispered almost to himself, "I didn’t think I’d ever get this."

Trevor’s arm tightened around him, voice low against his hair. "And now you have it. We have it."

And for once, Lucas let himself believe it.

—

By the ti the fire had dwindled to embers, Lucas was asleep. The empty bowl sat forgotten on the low table, a silver spoon balanced delicately inside it, half-lted vanilla pooling at the bottom. Trevor brushed a strand of hair from Lucas’s face, careful not to wake him. His oga’s breathing was even, the faintest smile still touching his mouth.

He stood slowly, easing out from under Lucas’s head, arranging a cushion where his shoulder had been. The cedar in the air had softened, fading to a whisper, but he left enough for Lucas to feel it even in sleep, a promise that he was near and that nothing would touch him while Trevor drew breath.

For a long mont he simply watched him. The soft light turned the room into sothing almost holy, too gentle for the kind of thoughts running through his head.

The faint rise and fall of his oga’s chest, the small crease at the corner of his eye that deepened when he dread. Peaceful, for once. Happier.

Two months ago, he’d thought the half-ford mories flickering at the edge of his mind were tricks of exhaustion, fragnts of another life bleeding into this one. But they weren’t. Not anymore. The image that haunted him, the warmth of a tiny hand curled around his finger, Lucas’s laughter soft in a sunlit room, it hadn’t been a dream.

Lucas had been pregnant before. They’d had a child.

Benedict.

The na surfaced like a bruise. He didn’t eliminate the threat he was and that didn’t sit well with him. He wanted the certainty that nobody would ever touch his oga... his family. His real family was forming, not the mother and brothers that only wanted money from him.

Even thinking the na sent a low current of anger through him. In those fractured recollections, Benedict’s presence had felt corrosive, like smoke seeping through the cracks of everything they’d built. Trevor didn’t know what he wanted then, or what he’d taken from them, but he knew the feeling of threat, of sothing unfinished.

And now, whispers placed him in Rohan.

Trevor exhaled, jaw tightening as he turned from the window. Windstone was already there in the doorway, quiet as ever, hands clasped neatly behind his back.

"Send a coded ssage to the Rohan branch," Trevor said, voice low and controlled. "Fitzgeralt agents only, no interdiaries and no third-party channels this ti. I want confirmation of every rumor that ntions Benedict. Every movent. Every na he’s used."

Windstone inclined his head. "Understood. I’ll have it dispatched within the hour."

"Good," Trevor murmured, gaze drifting back to Lucas, curled on the couch, face soft, peaceful, and unguarded. "And Windstone, keep this discreet. Not even Serathine hears about it until I say so."

"Of course, my lord."

When the butler left, Trevor lingered a mont longer, the only sound the faint tick of the mantel clock. The air still carried Lucas’s scent mixed with the cedar, warm, dostic, undeservedly gentle after years of war, loss, and lies.

Trevor’s eyes darkened. ’He won’t touch us again.’ Not in this life.

He turned, pulling his phone from his pocket, already composing the first encrypted directive. By dawn, Fitzgeralt agents would be moving through Rohan’s underbelly, listening for the na that had followed them across lifetis.

Benedict.

And this ti, Trevor would find him first.