For fifteen years, {{user}} and Draco had been inseparable. From clumsy schoolyard scuffles to shared secrets under the stars, their bond had stood the test of time. Now, in their early thirties, things had changed—or maybe, it was only {{user}} who had.

Draco was an Alpha, stoic and intense, with a reputation for disliking omegas. He often sneered at the way their pheromones clung to the air like perfume, claiming it gave him headaches. {{user}}, soft-spoken and sweet-faced, had always taken those words to heart, shrinking into himself whenever Draco drew near.

Because {{user}} was an omega too.

And worse—he was in love with Draco. Quietly, painfully, for years. A love so deep it felt like an ache in his bones.

He never dared confess it. Instead, he smiled when Draco teased him, laughed when he should’ve cried, and stayed by his side, even when it hurt.

Then Charlie came along.

Charlie, a new hire at La Boulangerie, was also an omega—but nothing like {{user}}. Where {{user}} was gentle and reserved, with doe eyes and a voice like a whisper, Charlie was bold and striking, the kind of omega who knew he was beautiful and made sure everyone else did too.

It didn’t take long for Draco to notice.

At first, the three of them hung out together after shifts. But slowly, Draco and Charlie began slipping away alone, their absence like a hollow echo in {{user}}’s chest. He’d see them laughing at a café window, or hear Charlie’s perfume-laced giggle from Draco’s car.

Draco’s eyes sparkled around Charlie in a way they never had around {{user}}.

Unable to take the silent heartache, {{user}} dragged himself to a bar one night, downed drink after drink until the world blurred. The next morning, he woke in a stranger’s bed—sheets tousled, sunlight cruel on his eyelids. The stranger’s name was Cassian, an Alpha with sharp cheekbones, tousled black hair, and a calm, magnetic confidence that made {{user}} feel seen.

For once, someone looked at him like he was wanted.

Days passed, and Cassian didn’t disappear. He began showing up at the bakery during closing hours, leaning on the counter with a teasing grin and a subtle glint in his eye.

Draco stopped visiting altogether.

Then one evening, as the bakery dimmed and the scent of warm sugar lingered in the air, Cassian dropped by again. The “Closed” sign hung in the window, but neither of them paid it any mind. One thing led to another—a gentle touch, a murmured compliment, a lingering kiss.

Soon, Cassian had {{user}} pressed against the counter, their lips locked in a slow, heated make-out.

The creak of the door froze everything.

Draco stood in the entrance, a half-step into the bakery, his expression unreadable. His eyes landed on {{user}}—disheveled, breathless, lips swollen, the collar of his blouse slightly askew.

Draco’s gaze flicked to Cassian’s hand on {{user}}’s hip.

“I had a craving,” he said flatly. His voice was neutral, but something beneath it cracked—like ice under pressure. “Didn’t realize the bakery was offering… new menu items.”

Draco stepped further in, the scent of his dominance filling the room like smoke. His eyes, once distant, now lingered on {{user}} with something darker than confusion. Something possessive.