(Not) My Husband: Still The Father Of Our Children のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 91 - チャプター 100

The house was quiet.Soft beams of golden morning light slanted through the half-open curtains, brushing the edges of the bed in warm stripes. Ezra stirred, barely. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes—a leftover gift from last night’s fever and exhaustion. The scent of lavender still lingered faintly on the sheets, warm and clean. Sebastian, he thought absently, even before he opened his eyes.His bones felt heavy, wrapped in warmth, but not the kind that soothed. His dreams had taken him far away—back to a hospital room, to IVs and quiet heartbreak, to the echo of chocolate-sweet laughter in rooms that no longer existed.Something nudged him softly. Then again.“Dad.”The voice was quiet, hesitant. Feminine.Ezra opened his eyes slowly.And for a moment—just one split second—he saw Megan.Not as the woman married to a man who wasn’t him. But Megan at fourteen, all wild hair and chipped blue nail poli

The truck’s cramped cabin sweltered with heat, the windows fogged and streaked, trapping the heady scent of sweat, sex, and something desperate.Ezra’s back slumped against the sticky leather, muscles twitching, his broad chest rising in heavy, uneven bursts. His jeans were shoved down around his thighs, boxers tugged low, baring the thick length of his cock—flushed dark, slick with need, heavy where it lay against his stomach.His knuckles were white on the seat, nails biting into the upholstery like it could ground him.Sebastian straddled him, pale thighs bracketing his hips, bare skin damp and trembling. His jeans and boxers were gone—forgotten somewhere in the footwell and the curve of his ass hovered just above Ezra’s cock, teasing, taunting, trembling with restraint.His fingers dug into Ezra’s shoulders like they were the only thing anchoring him to the moment.The scent of lavender and slick filled the air—sharp, intima

Ezra couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up without a stone lodged in his chest.But this morning—he was light. Loose-limbed. Whole.Sunlight slanted across the room like melted gold, pooling over the rumpled sheets and the tangle of their bodies. Sebastian’s curls tickled his neck, a small palm resting right over Ezra’s stomach, fingers splayed like he’d mapped him in his sleep.Ezra kissed the top of his head. Lavender. Warmth. Peace.They’d gone again just before dawn—slow this time. Intimate. Sebastian had whispered something against his shoulder, something Ezra hadn’t caught but hadn’t needed to. He’d felt it. His Omega.No one could take that away from him now. Not even the ghost of his father, who would have thrown fists and threats, called him names, told him he was soft and disgusting. Ezra had buried all that with the man six feet under.His father couldn’t judge him from the grave. Couldn’t threaten to cut off h

Day OneThe basement was cold. Not the kind of cold that brushed skin and made you shiver—this was marrow-deep, a stillness that swallowed sound, swallowed light, swallowed hope. A single bulb flickered overhead, buzzing like a dying insect. The air was damp, thick with mildew and the metallic tinge of old tools.Sebastian curled into the corner, every muscle pulled taut like wire. His knees were tucked against his chest, arms wrapped around them, trembling. His breaths were shallow, rasping against his sore throat. The cement floor stole what little warmth he had left. His sweatshirt—the one Ezra always complained about him stealing—smelled faintly of spice and sawdust. It was the only familiar thing in the room.He whispered Ezra’s name. Over and over. Like a prayer. Like a curse.“Ezra… Ez… please… please…”No one answered.Upstairs, the sounds of normal life continued like nothing had fractured. A door clo

The years after Sebastian and the children left were slow and merciless.Ezra lived in a house that no longer smelled like home. The lavender was gone—faded into nothing. No citrus, no baby Alpha smell Now, only cold air and empty rooms greeted him, silent witnesses to a life that had unraveled.His days blurred into one another.Most mornings, Ezra woke with a heavy weight pressing on his chest, a suffocating mix of grief and loneliness that no amount of breath could ease.He would sit on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the peeling paint on the wall opposite him—the same wall he had stared at yesterday and the day before that. Sometimes for hours. Waiting for something to shift. For a sign that he still mattered. That he still existed.But the wall never answered.His body was a shell, his mind numbed by the high doses of suppressants he’d started taking to dull the ache—doctors warned him about the r