Chapter One: Ophelia Come Up Here

Derek’s POV

I was standing in front of the cracked mirror in my room, pulling at the sleeves of the only decent shirt I owned, the one I saved for days that mattered, and tonight mattered because it was our second year anniversary as mates and Theo had promised dinner and he had promised words and he had promised that after tonight things would finally change, that he was ready, that he would stop hiding us, that he would tell the pack, and I kept repeating that promise in my head because it was the only thing keeping my chest from caving in after days of barely seeing him and weeks of pretending that it did not hurt.

My room was quiet with one narrow bed pushed against the wall, a small table with a loose leg, no pictures because I was never allowed to put any up, no pack symbols because those were for Alphas and Betas who mattered, and the walls were bare except for a faint crack that ran from the ceiling down like it was trying to escape, and sometimes I thought the room understood me better than my own family ever did.

I adjusted the collar again and sighed, staring at my reflection and trying to look happy instead of tired, because Theo liked it when I smiled and said I looked brighter that way, and I wanted tonight to be perfect enough that he would finally see that I was worth standing beside in daylight.

“Okay,” I whispered to myself, my voice sounding too loud in the room, “it is just dinner, just dinner and then everything changes.”

I thought about Theo’s laugh and the way he held my wrist when we were alone and how he always said he was busy during the day because of work, because meetings ran long, because his company needed him, and I believed him because loving him made believing easy, even when the days stacked up and the nights felt shorter and shorter.

I grabbed my jacket and was halfway to the door when my father’s voice cut through the hallway.

“Derek.”

I froze, my hand still on the knob, my heart already sinking because nothing good ever followed my name when it came from him.

“Yes, sir,” I said, turning around.

He stood there with his arms crossed, eyes sharp, already looking past me like I was a tool he needed to use before discarding again.

“There are errands,” he said. “The storage needs cleaning and your mother wants the back room sorted, you are not going anywhere until it is done.”

“I have plans,” I said, and my voice shook even though I tried to steady it, “it is important.”

He looked me up and down, taking in my clothes, my shoes, the effort, and his lip curled.

“You always think your little plans are important,” he said. “You are an Omega, Derek, learn your place.”

I wanted to argue, I wanted to say tonight mattered, that my mate was waiting, that I had waited long enough, but the words stayed stuck because arguing never changed anything here, it only made things worse.

So I nodded.

“Yes, sir,” I said again.

The hours blurred together in a mess of dust and boxes and heavy lifting, my hands getting dirty, my shirt snagging on rough wood, my shoes scuffed and ruined, and with every minute that passed my chest grew tighter because Theo hated waiting and I hated the thought of disappointing him, especially tonight.

By the time I was done my clothes were a mess, stains on the fabric, a tear near the hem, and I stared down at myself with a hollow feeling because there was no time to change and no time to fix anything.

I rushed out before anyone could stop me again, pulling the door shut behind me, only realizing halfway down the road that my wallet was still on the table in my room, and I stopped for a second, debating turning back, but the image of Theo checking his watch pushed me forward instead.

“I will be fine,” I muttered, starting to walk faster.

The sky darkened quicker than I expected and rain started slow and then heavy, soaking through my jacket, plastering my hair to my face, shoes slipping on wet ground as I kept going because stopping felt worse than the cold.

By the time I reached the place Theo had sent me the rain had ruined whatever was left of my outfit and my hands were shaking, not just from the cold but from nerves, from hope, from fear, all tangled together in a way that made it hard to breathe.

The restaurant was nicer than anything I had ever stepped into before, lights warm behind glass, people laughing inside, and I hesitated at the entrance because I knew how I looked, because I knew the stares would come, but then I saw him.

Theo stood near a raised platform, dressed perfectly, hair neat, smile easy, talking to people I did not recognize, and for a second my heart lifted because he looked happy and because he was here, because this was real.

I took a step forward, then another, wiping rain from my face, trying to catch his eye.

He saw me.

I knew he did because his gaze flicked over me and something unreadable crossed his face, something quick and sharp, and he turned back to the people around him before I could smile.

Confusion settled in my chest but I told myself he was just surprised, that this was public, that it was new for him too.

He stepped up onto the podium, tapping the microphone, and the room quieted.

“I want to thank everyone for coming tonight,” Theo said, his voice smooth and confident, the same voice he used when he talked about the future, when he promised me things would be different, “this night means a lot to me.”

My fingers curled into my palms as I waited, every part of me leaning toward him, toward the words I had been waiting two years to hear.

He glanced in my direction again, then looked away.

“There is someone very special I want to call up here,” he continued, smiling wider, “someone who has stood by me and supported me.”

My heart started pounding so loud I was sure others could hear it, my mind already racing ahead, imagining him saying my name, imagining the room turning, imagining the pack finally seeing me.

Theo lifted the microphone again and said, clear and certain, “Ophelia, would you come join me up here.”