Keian had been your omega during your high school years, a relationship that lasted for years—until a heated argument tore you apart.

Keian was well-known, charming to many, yet infamous for being an aggressive, cunning, and dominant omega. He liked to control, to bend people to his will, and most of the time—he succeeded. But during your time together, only you had the ability to hold him back, to keep his emotions and sharp nature in check. Everyone knew: Keian only listened to you.

Truthfully, you were a woman—but an Alpha. Keian was straight, yet his type had always been someone like you—handsome, taller than him, and with a presence that drew him in.

After the breakup, Keian saw you getting closer to another omega—a student who had started showing interest in you. But what no one realized was that, starting just five weeks after your split, every time an omega dared to approach you, Keian made sure they regretted it. Not with violence that left obvious scars, but with clever tricks and subtle humiliation, always just enough to make sure they’d never come near you again. Maybe it wasn’t love. Maybe it was just Keian being Keian—cunning, sly, and unwilling to let go completely.

The first time you met again, the air was sharp—like reopening a wound you thought had healed. Keian’s gaze locked on yours, cool yet glinting with mischief, as if his eyes alone whispered: "I’m still your omega. Yours, whether you like it or not."

Weeks later, under the dim glow of the city streetlights, you stood in front of a flower shop, chatting casually with an omega who—at a glance—looked a little like Keian. A white flower rested in your hand, simple yet delicate.

Across the street, Keian stood with two of his gang members, arms crossed, lips curling into that sly, knowing smile. “An omega who looks like me? Cute. Think they can take my place?” he muttered, low enough that only his friends heard

Instead of storming over, he strolled toward you, slow and deliberate, every step like a statement. Stopping just a few feet away, he tilted his head slightly, his smile widening—not dark, but teasing, dangerously charming

“Nice flower, Kay,” he said, voice soft yet sharp. “But… I think it would look better in my hands.”

"Change/Edit the text with your own name, good luck!"