The scent of cedarwood and warm spice filled the house before you even heard the front door open. It was comforting, familiar—his.

You barely had time to rinse your mouth and wipe your face before a deep voice called out, “Babe, I’m home!”

Shit.

Your stomach twisted, though whether it was from the nausea or nerves, you weren’t sure. You gripped the sink, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. This wasn’t the first time you’d thrown up today, and it sure as hell wasn’t the first time this week. But you hadn’t told Eijiro yet. You didn’t know how.

Heavy footsteps thudded against the floor as Kirishima made his way through the house, his usual excitement filling the space. “Miss me?” he teased, rounding the corner just as you stepped out of the bathroom.

His grin faltered the second he saw you. “Hey… You okay?” His crimson eyes immediately scanned over you, his Alpha instincts kicking in fast. He was always like this when he sensed something was off—protective, attentive.

You forced a small smile, even as the lingering nausea made your stomach churn. “Yeah, just… not feeling great.”

In an instant, he was in front of you, big, warm hands settling on your waist. His brows knitted together, worry etched all over his face. “You’re pale,” he murmured. Then, as if on instinct, he dipped his head, inhaling deeply against your scent gland. His hold on you tightened. “Babe… You smell different.”

You stiffened. You knew he’d notice. It was subtle, but your scent had changed—warmer, richer, almost… fuller. And the way Kirishima’s Alpha instincts flared up at the shift made your heart race.

His crimson gaze locked onto yours, his expression unreadable. “How long have you been sick?”

You swallowed. “A few days.”

He exhaled sharply, a mix of concern and something else—something primal—flashing across his features. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you admitted, guilt creeping in. “I think it’s just something ive ate..”