Chapter 151: How Could I Smell Sweet?

"Did you two fight?"

The question hangs in the air between us, heavy and unanswerable.

Fight?

It feels too small, too ordinary for what has happened. A fight is something you recover from. A fight is a slammed door, a raised voice, a night spent on opposite sides of the bed with your back turned. What I have is something else entirely—something that has settled into my bones like a sickness I can’t name.

I don’t answer. My gaze stays fixed on the garden beyond the glass wall, buried in snow, still and cold. The white stretches endlessly, untouched, pristine—a blank canvas that holds nothing but silence.

The world outside is frozen.

And so am I.

Sum’s voice breaks through the silence, gentle but insistent, pulling me back to the present.

"Ellis. Why aren’t you saying anything?"

I feel his eyes on me, patient, waiting.

I take a slow breath. Finally, I shift my gaze to him. My voice comes out flat, hollowed out by exhaustion and days of silence.

"Yes. We fought." A pause. "A big fight."

Another pause.

"And I want a divorce."

Sum goes still. Not the stillness of shock, but the stillness of someone trying to understand what he’s just heard. He stares at me.

{Seriously? He’s made himself look like a corpse over a fight with his husband? I thought something terrible had happened. It’s just a fight, and he’s in this state? Ellis is really childish.}

I take another sip of my coffee. The bitterness spreads across my tongue, grounding me in something real.

"Sum. I can hear what you’re thinking."

He blinks—then bursts into laughter, sudden and genuine, filling the quiet room.

"I mean it," he says, shaking his head, still chuckling. "So the reason for your condition is just a fight?"

He laughs again, bright and unguarded.

"Come on, Ellis... you look like a spoiled wife throwing a tantrum after fighting with her husband."

My jaw tightens.

"Sum. Are you going to stop, or should I kick you out of here?"

He raises his hands in mock surrender, laughter still lingering at the corners of his mouth.

"Okay, okay. I won’t say anything more."

His smile softens.

"But Ellis..." His voice drops. "Fighting is normal. Every couple fights. It’s like red chili in spicy food—without it, the dish isn’t complete. You shouldn’t take it so seriously."

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes searching mine.

"Why don’t you two sit down and talk?"

My face twists with anger.

"I don’t want to talk to him." My voice comes out sharper than I intend. "I don’t even want to see his face."

Sum lets out a quiet sigh.

"Ellis, calm down." His voice is patient, almost pleading. "We’re only human, and humans make mistakes. Forgiveness is what lets us move forward." He pauses before adding gently, "At least hear him out before you make a decision."

I hold his gaze, my voice flat and unyielding.

"Sum. Are you my friend or his?"

"Of course I’m yours." He says it without hesitation, without a flicker of doubt. "I’m just trying to help."

He stands up from the couch, walks around the low table, and settles beside me with the easy familiarity of years. His arm drapes over my shoulder, familiar and grounding.

"Come on, Mr. Charming." His voice turns light again, coaxing and gentle. "Don’t be so angry. What if we go out together instead? It’s been a while since we hung out." He gives my shoulder a small squeeze. "Let’s hit the club tonight. Like old times."

"No." The word falls from my lips, empty and final. "I don’t want to."

Sum throws his head back against the couch cushions with an exaggerated groan.

"Ellis..." He drags out my name, sounding theatrically heartbroken. "Did you abandon your only handsome best friend? Ever since you got married, you’ve been ignoring me. Ditching me every time we make plans."

He looks at me, cups his face in both hands, and blinks with exaggerated innocence.

"Isn’t that unfair to this handsome man?"

I stare at him—at the ridiculous, theatrical expression he’s wearing. The absurdity of it cuts through the fog in my chest, and before I realize it, a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.

I quickly look away, but it’s too late.

He’s seen it.

"You should have been born an Omega, not an Alpha."

He crosses his arms over his chest, nodding sagely, as if I’ve just confirmed something he’s always known.

"I know. I have the same complaint. I should’ve been an Omega." A shameless grin spreads across his face. "Then I’d have four—maybe five—hot Alpha husbands."

He lowers his voice to a whisper.

"Or twelve kids."

"Such a shameless man."

"No." He tilts his chin up, completely unbothered. "I’m pro-shameless."

A laugh escapes me, unexpected and genuine, pulling itself from somewhere deep in my chest. The sound surprises even me.

"Right."

He watches me for a moment. His smile softens, becoming quieter, warmer.

"Mission accomplished."

My laughter fades. I raise a brow.

"Mission accomplished?"

He reaches over and pinches my cheek, gentle and teasing, just like he used to when we were younger.

"Making you smile." He pulls back, settling deeper into the couch. "Now go. Get up. Get ready. We’re going out tonight." He waves a hand lazily. "Let’s drink until we both go blank."

I snort.

"And who’s going to complain about the headache tomorrow?"

He flashes me a carefree grin.

"I won’t complain."

He gives my shoulder a light shove.

"So hurry up and get ready."

I stand up and head toward my room. My steps feel lighter now. Sum’s lazy voice follows me as he stretches out on the couch, making himself comfortable.

"And scrub yourself properly while you’re at it." He chuckles. "You reek of sweat."

I turn back and snap, "Shut up. I don’t smell bad."

He laughs, completely unbothered.

"Okay, okay. I’m just kidding. I know Mr. Charming always smells good." A beat. "Even if he doesn’t shower for months."

My brows knit together in genuine irritation.

"Sum—"

"I mean it." He closes his eyes, settling deeper into the cushions, his voice growing lazy. "You still smell sweet."

A pause. His brow furrows slightly.

"Strange... that’s not your usual pheromone scent."

He waves a lazy hand without opening his eyes, already dismissing the thought.

"Anyway, go get ready. I’m taking a nap."

I turn and continue toward my room. His words linger in my mind. Smelling sweet. The thought feels wrong. Unsettling.

Since when did I start smelling sweet?

I shake my head, trying to push the thought away. He has to be joking.

How could I smell sweet?

I’m an Alpha.