Enola stood in front of the club, gazing at the brightly lit building even in the pouring rain.
If he hadn't transmigrated here, he knew it would have been on a night just like this—while the original Enola lay at home in agony, his husband, who should have been by his side, was here celebrating with another omega who already had a fiancé. What an irony.
With his striking looks, cool, elegant demeanor, and a presence that outshone even his appearance, Enola was like a painting framed against the rainy night and the glamorous backdrop of the club. Onlookers couldn't help but create stories about him in their minds.
Inside a car that had just pulled up to the club, Jackson raised the window, glancing briefly at the young man heading into the club.
"Let's go," he said.
The driver prepared to head to the original destination, but Jackson suddenly asked, "Where's Billy?"
The assistant in the front seat replied, "Mr. Billy is at the family residence with the elder Mrs. Gu. Would you like me to call him?"
Jackson pinched his brow, resting his head back and closing his eyes. "No need." His susceptibility period wasn't supposed to be until next week, but he already felt slightly feverish, with a faint burn at his glands.
"Where's the next stop?" he asked.
The assistant checked the schedule and paused. "It's at Sea View Residence in ten minutes. Mr. Gu, if we head there now, we might be late given the rain. Should we consider switching the location to Blue Manor instead?"
Blue Manor was the club right in front of them—the very place that young man had just entered.
After a moment, Jackson's calm voice spoke again. "That will be fine."
…
Inside, Enola was led by an attendant, though he hadn't actually planned on delivering warmth to his so-called husband, Jay. His goal was just to show his face to Jackson. Once the job was done, he intended to walk around for appearances and then leave, perhaps securing a little more favor along the way.
By sheer luck or perhaps thanks to Billy's protagonist halo, Enola saw Jay and Billy at a table on the second-floor lounge. Billy was dressed innocently in a white shirt and shorts, his delicate face flushed from drinking, his teary eyes gazing adoringly at the man beside him.
Jay, Enola's "useful" husband, was undeniably good-looking. Back in college, the two of them had been dubbed the best "bamboo horse" CP (childhood friends to lovers). Jay's white shirt and trousers showcased his impressive figure as he handed a tissue to Billy, the air between them filled with a quiet, subtle intimacy.
Curiously, they hadn't yet crossed the line into a full-fledged affair; this "date" was under the guise of a department outing. But their colleagues seemed to approve of the subtle affection between the two, with two young women giggling to each other and whispering.
It was likely an open secret. One side had feelings, the other accepted passively. Enola wondered if Jay's colleagues were even aware that he was married.
He smiled warmly, thanking the attendant politely. "Thank you. I've found my friends."
"Y-you're welcome." The attendant stammered, his ears turning red from the shock of Enola's beauty.
Enola headed over, his presence drawing every eye in the dim, noisy lounge. People watched him as he approached, captivated by his quiet elegance. At Jay's table, many were also looking over, and when he was a few steps away, Billy looked up at him, his face changing in an instant. He stared in shock, his face first blank, then turning pale.
Guilty, perhaps?
Enola's smile grew gentler as he greeted everyone and then addressed his stunned husband. "Darling."
The once lively table fell silent, with the young women who had been giggling about the "CP" now staring wide-eyed, while the older colleagues cast disapproving looks at Jay and Billy. Experienced professionals, they could tell immediately what was going on—and it wasn't right.
Finally, Jay pulled out a chair for Enola, his face calm as he introduced him. "This is my spouse, Enola."
Enola greeted everyone smoothly, engaging them in conversation, which only endeared him further to the group. His striking appearance, refined demeanor, and respectful conversation style quickly won their favor.
Sensing that Jay had more to say, Enola excused himself to the restroom, knowing Jay would follow. As expected, Jay came in after him.
"What are you doing here?" Jay's usual gentle demeanor held an uncharacteristic hint of reproach, though he quickly softened his tone. "It's pouring rain out there; you should've waited for me at home. I wouldn't want you catching a cold."
Wait for him? The original Enola had waited. And what had that gotten him?
"I came to bring you fish soup. I thought your stomach might feel off after drinking," Enola said softly, suppressing his sarcasm as he washed his hands, drying them carefully with a paper towel. "And—"
He turned, leaning back against the sink, his pale arms draping around Jay's neck and drawing him close. They were now just inches apart.
Enola's lashes fluttered as he whispered, "I missed you."
The irritation in Jay's expression melted away instantly. "Rainy nights like this… I wanted to call and tell you not to come," he murmured, beginning to think they should head home early.
But then he remembered how excited Billy had been for his birthday, even agreeing to include their colleagues. He felt conflicted; Enola rarely acted so affectionate, and he was reluctant to pull away.
"Wait here for a bit. I'll tell them, and then we can head home…" he began, only to have Enola's pale, delicate fingers press gently against his lips.
"There's no need to make sacrifices for me," Enola said understandingly. "I know how important it is to keep up connections at work. Go ahead, enjoy your drinks and have fun. I'll wait at home. Is that alright?"
There was no way Enola would want to deal with a drunk husband. Besides, how could he sneak around with Jay at home?
Jay, clearly moved, leaned in to kiss him, but Enola stopped him. He leaned into Jay's arms, his voice low, with a blush at his ears. "Let's save it for home, okay?"
Jay laughed softly, a rare feeling of romance sweeping over him as he ruffled Enola's hair. "Alright, I'll call you a car to head home and rest up."
"Thank you."
As soon as Jay left, Billy stepped out from where he had been eavesdropping behind the wall. "So you're Jay's spouse?"
Enola remembered why Billy had such a strong reaction upon seeing him. In the original storyline, Enola had once been in a car accident that ended his dance career. Billy, who had grown close to Jay, had once come across Enola's dance videos and taken an interest. Over time, he had begun posting them online, drawing attention, and amassing fans, eventually leading to a career in entertainment.
Enola washed his hands again, thoroughly, as he glanced at Billy with a small smile. As he passed by, he whispered, "Billy, enjoying what you've stolen?"
"Wh-what?" Billy stammered.
Hearing Billy's flustered voice, Enola smiled even more as he shut the door. Ah, Billy was in for a long, sleepless night. Would he worry about being caught stealing Enola's husband or his videos?
Enola returned to the table, apologizing to Jay's colleagues, who looked genuinely concerned and told him to rest up and not hesitate to reach out if he needed anything.
Leaving the club, Enola reset his expression to a serene look. He spotted a familiar car in front of the building. Jackson was still here. It seemed his gamble had paid off.
Without an umbrella, Enola stood at the door, his figure slender and a bit fragile in the stormy weather. After a few minutes, a group of people emerged, led by a tall, imposing alpha in a dark coat. The crowd parted around him naturally, creating a clear path.
Only Enola was left standing by the door, talking awkwardly with a waiter. He lifted his head, unexpectedly locking eyes with the man beside him.
"Heading home?" Jackson asked.
Enola blinked, then smiled. "Yes. What a coincidence."
In the cold, biting wind, dressed only in a light shirt, with his slightly disheveled hair and eyes rimmed red, he looked as if he had been drinking—or perhaps even crying—a sight that made him seem even more vulnerable.
"Get in the car," Jackson said.
Enola hesitated. "Would that be convenient? I could wait for my car."
Seeing Enola's reluctance, Jackson dismissed any suspicion of an ulterior motive and gestured for him to follow.
Once inside, Enola gave his address, noting Jackson's brief, sharp glance before instructing the driver to proceed. Enola understood the reason behind the look—his address was Jackson's own, though Jackson had purchased his unit while Enola merely rented.
When the car settled into a smooth rhythm, Enola retrieved the thermos flask from his bag. "Would you care for some fish soup?" he asked, gently offering Jackson a paper cup.
Jackson was about to decline, but seeing the redness at Enola's eyes and hearing the faint rasp in his voice, he assumed he had been rejected by a beta's unrequited love. Relaxed from a successful negotiation, Jackson accepted.
Enola ladled a cup for Jackson andfor himself, handing another to Jackson's assistant in the front. The assistant, surprised to be included, glanced at Jackson for approval before gratefully accepting.
Finally, Enola poured a small portion for the driver, looking back to Jackson with a faint look of hesitation. His expression was gentle, yet so compelling it was impossible to ignore. Jackson looked at him, his face impassive.
With a soft, nasal tone, Enola smiled, "Please, give it a try, sir. It's my way of thanking you for giving me a ride."
Jackson studied him quietly. Enola's delicate features, those captivating eyes that hinted at both mystery and warmth, the faint red at the corners—all made his gaze linger. The rich, amber tint of his eyes was almost like honey, and his voice was soft. "Thank you for bringing me along."
Jackson accepted the soup without a word, quietly sipping as the car moved smoothly through the rain-soaked streets.
The ride continued in silence, but there was an unspoken atmosphere between them, one that lingered in the quiet exchange of glances and the subtle presence Enola seemed to exude even in the confined space of the car. The night outside was stormy, but inside, everything felt oddly calm.