5

Noah knew something had changed in his body long before the healer confirmed it.

His mornings were heavy with nausea, his nights restless with strange dreams. His appetite faltered, and when Adrian noticed, he pressed his with quiet concern.

“You are pale,” he said one evening, watching as he struggled to finish his meal. His hand brushed his wrist, firm but not unkind. “You must care for yourself. My household depends on you.”

Noah lowered his head, ashamed. “Forgive me, my lord. I do not mean to be weak.”

He studied him for a long moment before nodding, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Perhaps you are not weak. Perhaps you are with child.”

His breath caught.

The words filled his chest with both fear and wonder. Could it be true? He pressed his hands to his stomach as though he might feel life stirring there already.

When the healer confirmed it days later, Adrian's pride swelled. He lifted his head in the temple, his voice firm as he thanked the Lord before the elders.

“The Lord has blessed our union,” he declared. “My Omega carries my child.”

The elders nodded with solemn approval. Noah, standing two steps behind him, felt the weight of their gazes. For the first time, he was not only wife but mother-to-be, and their eyes saw him as fulfilled.

His parents wept when they heard the news. His mother embraced him tightly, whispering, “Now you will know the true purpose of an Omega’s body. Now you will understand joy.”

And Noah wanted to believe her.

His days became slower, more careful. He moved gently, mindful of every step, every breath. Adrian insisted he rest often, forbidding him from lifting heavy objects or tiring himself. At meals, he reminded him to eat more, pushing bread toward him even when his stomach turned.

“You carry my son,” he said once, with absolute certainty. “He must be strong.”

Noah smiled at his confidence, though he could not know the child’s sex yet. But Adrian's word was law, and in his heart, he hoped it was true—that bearing him a son would secure his place forever.

At night, when he lay beside him, Adrian's hand would rest over his stomach. It was not tender exactly, but possessive, as if he were staking a claim.

“You are fulfilling God’s command,” he murmured against his hair. “Be fruitful, multiply, and honor your Alpha. You are a good wife, Noah.”

Those words carried him through the months of sickness and fatigue. Each ache became a badge of honor. Each flutter in his womb a promise. He told himself this was what it meant to be blessed.

When his belly began to swell, Adrian's pride grew with it. At temple gatherings, his hand would linger on his back as he guided him, displaying him rounded form as if it were a trophy. Neighbors congratulated them, elders praised them, and other Omegas looked at him with envy thinly veiled behind smiles.

“You are fortunate,” they whispered. “Your Alpha is strong, your womb fruitful. The Lord has favored you.”

Noah bowed his head and smiled, drinking in their words like water.

And when at last the child came into the world—small, fragile, but alive—he wept with relief and awe.He pressed him to his chest, his thin cries softening against his heartbeat.

Adrian stood at his side, tall and solemn. His eyes, though dry, shone with pride.

“The Lord has favored us,” he said. “You have given me a son.”

And though Noah did not yet know the child’s strength or future, he believed him. This was blessing. This was joy.

The weeks that followed blurred into exhaustion, but he carried it gladly. He rose in the night to feed him, soothed his cries with lullabies, and marveled each time his tiny fingers curled around him. Every breath he drew felt holy.

Adrian presented the child at temple, his hands steady as he lifted him before the elders. The boy was blessed in God’s name, and the congregation praised Adrian's strength and Noah's devotion.

“You are blessed among Omegas,” one of the elder’s wives whispered to him, clasping her hand. “The Lord has given you a son. You must be so happy.”

And he was.

His happiness did not look like the stories he once dreamed of. It was not wild or free—it was steady, solemn, and praised by all. He told himself it was enough.

At night, when the baby slept between them, Adrian placed his hand over him and said, “We are blessed. This is how the Lord intended it.”

Noah believed him.

His life was full. His days revolved around his husband and his child, his duties and his prayers. The memory of questions once whispered in childhood was gone. The forbidden name—buried.

For a time, there was only peace.

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