3 3. The Husband

I have been at crossroads quite often in my life. Or should I say my previous life? We'll get to the bottom of that later. But it is not uncommon that life often puts you at points of substantiation, putting even your sanity at stake to get through the cruel spikes of reality and human depravity while you try to get through the least of the deepest wounds because it is a given that you would get hurt.

And I have been hurt. By the people, I hate, by people I envy, and most of all, by the people I loved as I love myself. But I have never been completely utterly at a loss of thought and comfort. Even at the crossroads, I had at least myself to lean on. My identity and the person I was then.

Even through my sexuality crisis, career crisis, mid-life. I was with myself through it all.

But I feel that I have even lost myself now.


Max Foster is gone and so is my basic understanding of the natural human reproductive system.

I am now Adian something-something who is apparently clearly pregnant and he is a man.

A MAN. He has a penis and I can confirm it, albeit it is quite…small that my even lovely ego took quite the hit.

Ah Max Foster, I remember, had quite the glorious sword.

But fret not, Adian. It is not the size but the technique.

Now I am not even at crossroads. There are simply no roads but the people around are simply going on with their life like it's normal. The only thing that has been holding me together, a dam against an entire mental breakdown is the sunset here in this place.

I lean against the thick ornately designed railing of the balcony and close my eyes, feeling the breeze gently hit my face and I feel rejuvenated again. I look up at the bends and swirls of strips of clouds against the lilac sky with birds gliding smoothly and out at the swarm of treetops on the large expanse of lands with no other building in sight. It was truly a different sort of bliss from before when I looked out and my vision filled with just concrete blocks and their windows reflecting the sunset that cannot be seen directly.

I don't open my eyes. I imagine I'm back in my London flat, Liam would've stayed over after that night, cuddled up against the geography of my body and both of us smushed, legs and hands entangled that I think of his limbs as my own and mine, his. Somewhere in the crevice of my mind, I knew I loved Liam. But I couldn't think of a possibility of us beyond a mere fling, he was a taken man and I was someone who refused to be taken.

But I guess no point mulling over it. Liam probably isn't even born yet now.

Or better yet, he doesn't exist. Not even as a potential fetus.

I need to figure out a way to mirror Adian in his body so that his Husband, Lord what's-the-name finds out I am an imposter and kicks me out in the dirty street of Victorian London where the fleas would then find me and make me their bungee jumping apparatus cum life support ventilator while I get sucked to death, baby and me both. I place my palm on my belly. Sorry, Adian Jr.


I turn at the voice and I see an old man standing. He was in a crisp black suit with coattails and stood straight on his spine. I assume that this was the head butler or maybe just a butler. I nod at him in acknowledgment and he started in his leveled professional tone,

'Lord Elian has come back from his official duties and he requests Sir Adian to dine together with him tonight.'

Elian is Adian's husband, from what I've heard. I nod in reply,

'I understand.'

He bows and turns backward, retreating into the darkness of Adian's glorious room. I guess I should start lighting up candles or something. I must ask for lighter to the Globe Lady.

I turn back towards the sky and stare upwards; the sun has disappeared behind the trees for the day and the world had dimmed now. I wave away a mosquito buzzing near my ear and try to suppress the extra-wide smile trying to surface on my face.

I'll have to deck my finest suit.

I mean, Adian's finest suit on Adian's body.

Dinner, I realize, is served considerably early. I guess people must function at earlier times rates and prepare my make-a-husband-nosebleed suit earlier, almost immediately after the Globe lady brought some young man to light the wall lamps in my (Adian's) room. I guess Adian is quite the beauty in this weird Greek-letter-gender world and their weirder standards that the young butler was stealing quite the, ahem, lustful glances.

I know, I know. How adulterous! Imagine the Husband of an Earl, I caught in a forbidden affair with a lowly but ripped handsome butler. It sounds…disturbingly exciting. Maybe seeing Adian's husband would knock me back to fidelity. I can't help myself, I was only romping around with a married fox-like a few hours ago, I have got to get it together. This wasn't my life anymore.

I survey myself in front of the mirror and a sigh lets itself out from my lips. Adian is…exquisite. He looks surreal, ethereal, and all the fancy words with a flawless cohesive aura around himself. I didn't even need to act sophisticated to look sophisticated. But honestly?

A little too frail for my taste.

On God, but he looks so good that it all made sense that he's married and from what I heard, Sir Dominic said Male Omegas among the nobility was a rare case and often prized, twisted but yeah, it's twisted and that is all. I fix the chocolate plait pants that ran up quite high, Adian had mostly only high-waisted pants in his thick oak wardrobe but this one fit around my legs quite loosely in a welcomed change from my previous pants, which was frankly too tight for my liking. I put together a loose white shirt and a fitted vest with a matching plait pattern, but I decide not to put on a necktie as I found it too suffocating.

I glance at the small wooden clock on top of the fireplace mantel. 6:15 pm. It seems to be a suitable time to head out to the dining hall which I had surveyed earlier during lunch. I check, for the last time, the tall mirror and fixed my perfectly styled hairdo; Adian's leveled curls fall naturally on the sides and gleams like strands of silver.

I turn and head towards the door, clearing my throat and making sure my breath doesn't smell. Gotta perfect the greeting kiss game.

Wait. Wait. I whirl around in a 180-degree turn and walk back to the dresser. Ring. I don't feel a wedding ring on my finger. I shuffle through the mess of drawers, among watches and neckties.

Where is the wedding ring? I wasn't wearing one when I woke up. I am pretty sure. I upturn and sweep aside each and every box, opening them to find shiny pocket watches of various designs.

I stop. Under the shadow of a corner, almost the same tint as the darkness surrounding it was a velvet dusty box. instinctively, I reach out and bring it out in the light of the candles, dusting away the top. Why was this hidden back there?

I open it and a laugh escapes my lips. inside it was a simple gold band with a tiny glimmer of a diamond. I laugh even more at the hilarity of the situation, I was expecting a huge diamond ring of some hyperbolic extravaganza but I am met with this, tiny thing.

I shake my head and raise my left hand in the light to slip it on.


I squint and bring my hand closer. Are these...bite marks? I lift my hands up to the candlelight, and in the yellow light, I could see brown teeth marks along the skin of my fingers. a frown covers my forehead,

Is this what Sir Dominic said? Marking an Omega? But I am sure he said it was supposed to be on the back of the neck. And I am sure Adian is already marked?

I look at Adian's hands and shrug.

Well, must be a practice ground or something.

One last look at the mirror.

'Okay, buddy.' I sternly wave a finger at my reflection, 'No messing it up.'

The maids and butlers bustle about with a copious amount of energy as I walk down towards the dining hall. I look as they zoom past me with a perfunctory bow with plates, duster, and serving carts. I smile and bow back without much thought, possibly muscle memory. I wonder if I could remember Adian's memory.

I walk down, slowly on the carpeted hallway dimly lit by oil lamps and feel a small urge to turn back. I look at my legs, they seem to be fighting back with each step I took towards the grand dining hall. Strange but when I look up from the struggle, I was already at the entrance of the dining hall and it looks illuminated. So much in contrast to the low light of the hallway, I look up and gasp, three similar chandeliers hanging down from the ceiling and strikingly refracted the lights from several candles with its dewdrops of crystal diamonds.

With my eyes up ahead, my feet stepped forward absent-mindedly. My mouth moves in 'oohs' and 'aahs' as I examine the mechanisms of possibly Olden England.


My legs come in impact with a hard surface and reflexively, I howl in pain. Squinting through the blinding haze of the sting through my leg, I look and the culprit was a hardwood dining chair.

'Sonofabitch, it's really real wood, eh?' I mumble resentfully.

'How becoming of you.'

The voice booms a little too close for comfort and I fling my vision upwards almost too fast.


The culprit chair is the one chair at the end of a long table that always stretched too long out at the end of the room and it, I believe, was usually reserved for the head of the family, AKA my husband in this case. Slowly, I focus my vision on the occupant of the chair and found dark brown pupils filled to the brim with a judgmental look.

The man tilts his head to the side and spans his look over me judgingly, his dark heavy eyebrows scrunched up in a frown and his sharp jaw slightly ticking in irritation.

I gulp involuntarily and a stinging chill spreads from my spine this time.

So this is the husband.

…and he definitely does NOT look knocked out with love.

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