Semua Bab (Not) My Husband: Still The Father Of Our Children: Bab 21 - Bab 30

It had become a quiet sort of rhythm. Mornings laced with sleepy kisses behind closed doors, nights stolen with hushed laughter and breathless sounds muffled into pillows.They didn’t call it anything. Not in daylight. But when the house dimmed, and the kids’ breathing evened into dreams, Ezra’s hand would find Sebastian’s waist. Sebastian would arch back into him without a word, his lavender scent blooming sweet and heady in the dark.They were good at pretending nothing had changed.Except everything had.It had been nearly two months since they’d fully settled into Wesmere, and the most surprising thing wasn’t how easily the two of them had slipped into this semi-domestic chaos—it was how well the kids were doing.That morning was syrupy bright, the kind of sunshine that made the kitchen tiles look too clean and the world too forgiving. Ezra had already packed lunches—two for the twins with matching dinosaur stickers, one plain brown bag for Mia. Sebastian had promised to take t

Dinner was quiet.Too quiet.The kind of quiet that scraped and stung.The air in the house was thick with unspoken tension—richer, heavier, tainted by Ezra’s alpha pheromones that hadn’t settled since the school drop-off and the PTA confrontation. It pulsed faintly in the background like a storm cloud, all spice and sandalwood sharpened with the edge of unspent rage. It didn’t roar, but it lingered, coiling into corners, curling around baseboards. Daring someone to speak.The twins ate quickly, as if the silence might swallow them next. Their usual bright chatter had dried up into stiff, occasional glances between their father and Sebastian. Caleb dropped his spoon once—the clang against his bowl sounded like a firecracker in the stillness, and even that didn’t shake Ezra out of his brooding.Camden sniffed quietly, and Sebastian didn’t miss the way both boys’ natural scents—still faint and unformed—carried the soothing trace of his lavender, tangled gently with their sister’s cri

Ezra woke to warmth. Wet, slow warmth dragging along his skin, tugging him up from sleep like a dream he didn’t want to wake from.His brows drew together as his body responded before his mind did. His hips gave a small, involuntary push upward into the slick heat wrapped around him. A breath escaped him—hoarse, low, almost pained. His chest heaved, the sheets suddenly too hot, the scent in the air too thick.Lavender. But not just lavender. There was something deeper tonight—sweeter, heavier. A trace of honeyed musk beneath the bloom. Pheromones. Omega pheromones.Ezra blinked into the dark, heart stammering in his chest, pupils dilating as instinct took hold of rational thought.Then he felt it—Sebastian. The unmistakable slide of tongue, the press of a soft mouth, the subtle trembling in his thighs as he worked Ezra slowly. And the scent—that dangerous, heady blend of Omega sweetness and heat. It coated Ezra’s tongue. Flooded his lungs. A lure. A trap. A balm.“Fuck,” Ezra mutter

The house hummed with its usual evening noise—Mia was curled on the couch, thumbs flying over her new phone, but the tight set of her mouth betrayed her frustration about still being grounded.The twins had stripped off their shirts, galloping barefoot through the hallway like wild ponies, their laughter echoing off the walls, light and free.Sebastian had helped clear the table. Now, everything was dim—just the warm kitchen light glowing across the floor and the soft thump of Ezra’s boots kicked off at the door.The bedroom was dark. Ezra lay shirtless, one arm flung across the bed as if he’d passed out mid-thought. His chest rose and fell in even rhythm. He looked tired. Older. Still unfairly gorgeous.Sebastian stood at the edge of the bed for a long moment, caught between the need to touch and the knowledge of how volatile this moment felt. The subtle, intoxicating musk of his own scent—the deep lavender laced with a heady, almost fertile sweetness clung to the air, but Ezra’s sc

The waiting room was unusually quiet that morning, weighted with the sort of silence that made scents linger. Sebastian’s lavender pheromones were soft in the air—subtle, calming. Familiar. The kind of scent meant to make small children feel safe.He glanced at the clipboard in his lap, then up at the child nestled between two oversized plush bears on the sofa.Milo was seven—sharp-eyed, quieter than most his age, with the scent of fear curled tight around him. Bitter and faintly sour. Sebastian inhaled through his nose once, gently, cataloging it.Sebastian smiled softly. “Want to tell me about what happened at school?”Milo shrugged.Sebastian shifted, stretching his legs under the coffee table, keeping his posture open. His scent remained light but purposeful—Omega calm, steady. “You know, I have twins at home. Caleb and Camden. They're six.”Milo looked up, nose twitching slightly. “Really?”“Really. And they argue over the dumbest things. Like who gets the blue bowl or who saw t