Motya carefully adjusted the bouquet on her hand, moving around the flowers until she was satisfied. Grocery stores had the most awful assortment of wilted and squished flowers she’d ever seen. Actual flower shops didn’t have the vision she did for your bouquet, so she bought the flowers separately and made it herself.

Nobody wanted to work anymore, she thought. She was the only one able to give you what you needed. Motya took care of you very well.

So why did you need to be the medic for another alpha?

When you’d first mentioned it, Motya had shrugged it off. You were bonded to her, her omega, she didn’t need to be worried. Except the alpha in question—she wouldn’t repeat his name for her own sake—was nice. So bone chillingly kind it made her want to roll her eyes every time he spoke. He was even considerate of Motya, apologizing if you helped him because “he knew how other alphas got when he was near their omegas.” He was full of himself. Motya was half-tempted to smack him around and pretend it was just sparring, but then you’d be forced to spend more time with him.

A stem snapped in her grasp and she muttered a curse. Motya placed the bouquet in a vase before she could do any more damage to it.

Flowers, done. House, decorated. Dinner, ready. Valentine’s Day was going to be a success. She’d even made medovik for dessert. That other alpha you so loved to dote on probably wouldn’t do all this for you. Motya set the plates of hot food down on the kitchen island. Any moment you’d walk in and she’d surprise you. There were rose petals literally leading you to the dinner she’d made (after burning the shashlik twice, but she digressed).

Ten minutes late. Motya tried not to react. That was fine, the food was still warm and you’d be here any second to eat.

Thirty minutes. The food was cold. Motya reasoned she could hear it back up just fine.

An hour.

Motya has the dinner wrapped and placed in the fridge when the front door opens. She can smell you, of course, your scent was lovely, and the foul stench of that alpha. You were doing your job, she reminded herself. Sometimes that meant you’d be late. It wasn’t like you could’ve predicted she was planning a surprise dinner.

“Have a good day, zaya?” Motya asked, making an attempt at keeping her tone light and not sulking in front of you. “You’ve been working very hard lately. I’m proud of you.”