To Love Is to Suffer
Early the next morning, Louis came by with breakfast, but he reeked of another Omega.
The scent hit me instantly, and I doubled over with nausea, gripping the bed as I dry-heaved.
He rushed to my side, gently rubbing my back like he actually cared. "Sweetheart, is it your wound? Don't be scared. I'm here."
I looked up at him in silence.
If he didn't love me, why did he keep pretending? Why couldn't he let me go? Why must he destroy me?
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