Niran's pov:
After a few weeks of supervised sessions we turned to one on one sessions, I wouldn't say that I got comfortable with his pheromones but I didn't feel like I was suffocating anymore. To my surprise he was patient with me.
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Nattawut POV:
No matter how many times I came to this house I'll never get used to how big it is,it feels like I'm walking in the president's house. As I buzzed the gate, a different guard opened for me. Usually P'Sang will open up for me but I guess he was busy today.
As the guard led me behind the mansion in a luxurious garden filled with different kinds of flowers Niran was seated under a tree while Sang hovered over him, he was smiling laughing at what ever he was saying. There's no way they were just body guard and charge, they were Offaly close and to intamate in their conversation.
As I approached, I couldn't help but notice the relaxed expression on Niran's face, a stark contrast to the tense, guarded demeanor he usually wore around me. He looked… happy. Like he didn't have a care in the world.
Sang leaned slightly closer, his voice too low for me to hear, but whatever he said made Niran laugh again, his smile radiant under the shade of the tree. The sight of it struck me in a way I didn't expect, a strange twist in my chest that I couldn't quite place.
"P'Sang seems to be doing my job," I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to the guard escorting me.
The guard chuckled quietly. "They've been like that since Niran was a kid. Sang's more than just a bodyguard to him—he's like family."
"Family," I repeated, my voice flat. Somehow, that word didn't sit right with me.
As we got closer, Niran's laughter faded, and his gaze shifted toward me. The warmth in his eyes disappeared almost instantly, replaced by his usual guarded expression. He straightened up, brushing imaginary dirt off his pants, and the easy atmosphere between him and Sang dissipated like smoke.
"You're late," Niran said curtly, though I wasn't.
"I'm exactly on time," I replied, glancing at my watch. "Maybe you just started early without me."
Sang shot me a brief look, his expression unreadable, before stepping back to give us space. "I'll be close by if you need me," he said to Niran, his tone soft but firm.
Niran nodded, his eyes lingering on Sang for a moment before turning back to me. "Let's just get this over with."
"Grab a seat and do your thing, just don't make it too overwhelming." He said shifting in his seat turning to his unfinished painting.
I took a seat opposite him, keeping a safe distance. His words carried a sharp edge, but I chose to ignore it. "Got it. I'll keep it light," I replied, settling myself.
Niran didn't look at me again. Instead, he picked up his brush and resumed painting, his strokes measured and deliberate. I watched for a moment, curious about his work. The canvas was a swirl of colors—cool blues and greens mixed with splashes of vibrant yellows and reds. It was abstract but oddly captivating, like a chaotic scene frozen in motion.
"Nice painting," I said, trying to fill the silence.
He didn't respond immediately. Finally, without looking up, he muttered, "It's not for you."
Ouch. "Didn't say it was," I replied, keeping my tone light. "Just saying it looks good."
"Focus, Nat," he snapped, his brush pausing mid-stroke.
"Right. Sorry." I sighed and began releasing my pheromones again, keeping them subtle as promised.
I could tell immediately when he noticed. His shoulders stiffened, and his grip on the brush tightened for a split second before he forced himself to relax. His breathing became slower, more controlled, but I didn't miss the way his jaw clenched.
"You're doing fine," I said gently. "Just keep focusing on the painting. Don't think about me."
He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Easier said than done with you sitting there like a ticking time bomb."
"Hey, I'm trying to help here," I shot back, though I softened my tone. "You're the one who said to keep it light, remember?"
He didn't reply, instead doubling down on his painting. His strokes became quicker, more erratic, as if he were channeling his frustration into the canvas.
I leaned back, watching him. Despite his obvious irritation, he was handling my pheromones much better than he had during our first sessions. The thought was oddly satisfying, though I couldn't figure out why.
Minutes passed in silence, broken only by the soft sound of the brush against the canvas. Finally, Niran set the brush down with a sigh, sitting back to admire his work. His breathing had evened out, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to have melted away.
"How do you feel?" I asked, genuinely curious.
He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "Tired," he admitted.
"That's normal," I said, offering a small smile. "It's progress, though. You didn't freak out this time."
"Congratulations to me," he muttered, though there was no real bite in his tone.
Sang appeared in the doorway, his eyes scanning Niran carefully. "All good?" he asked, addressing both of us.
"All good," I confirmed, standing up. "He did well."
Niran rolled his eyes but didn't argue.
"Let's not make a big deal out of it," he said, picking up his brush again. "We're not done yet."
I chuckled, heading for the door. "One step at a time, Niran. You're getting there."
As I passed Sang, I caught a quick glance between him and Niran—a silent exchange that I couldn't quite interpret. Whatever it was, it left me with a strange knot in my stomach as I made my way out.
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That evening after doing all my jobs I headed home, today wasn't a great day for me. I wasn't in the right state of mind, I don't feel like myself. I kept zoning out at work and my body feels weaker than ever, I know my body was bond to give up on but why this soon everything has been going well.
I trudged through the dimly lit streets, my mind clouded with fatigue and unease. The usual hum of life around me felt distant, like I was walking through a fog. My limbs felt heavy, each step harder to take than the last. By the time I reached my small apartment, I could barely muster the energy to unlock the door.
The sound of Mali's laughter greeted me as I stepped inside. She was sitting at the table, chatting animatedly with Mae, who looked up the moment she saw me.
"Nat, you're home late," Mae said, concern flashing across her face. "Are you okay?"
I forced a smile, not wanting to worry her. "Yeah, just a long day. How was everything here?"
"Same as always," she replied, but her eyes didn't leave me. "You look pale. Did you eat today?"
"I'm fine," I lied, shrugging off my jacket and collapsing onto the couch. My body ached in protest, and for a moment, I let myself sink into the cushions, closing my eyes.
Mali climbed up next to me, her small hands tugging at my sleeve. "P'Nat, can we play after dinner?"
"Maybe tomorrow, Mali," I said softly, ruffling her hair. "I'm really tired today."
She pouted but didn't argue, hopping off the couch and running back to Mae. I opened my eyes to see Mae watching me closely, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"You're not fine, are you?" she asked quietly.
I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. "I don't know. I just feel… off. Weak, like my body's running on empty."
Mae frowned, coming over to sit next to me. "You've been pushing yourself too hard. Between work, the sessions with Niran, and taking care of us, you've barely had a moment to rest."
"I can handle it," I said automatically, though even I didn't believe it.
She placed a hand on my shoulder, her grip firm. "You need to slow down, Nat. You're not invincible. If you don't take care of yourself, who's going to take care of us?"
Her words hit harder than I expected. I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, knowing she was right. "I'll try," I promised, though I wasn't sure how.
Mae didn't look convinced, but she let it go for now. "I'll get you some tea. Just rest for a bit, okay?"
As she disappeared into the kitchen, I leaned back on the couch, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. As the minutes passed the heat in my body got worse, I couldn't handle it anymore. I stumbled as I got up from the couch and headed to the bathroom, I needed a cold shower maybe that would do.
"There's no need for tea Mae," I said as I stumbled through the hallway.
I barely made it to the bathroom, my legs shaky and my vision blurring. The heat in my body was unbearable now, like a fire burning me from the inside out. My shirt clung to my skin, soaked in sweat, and every breath felt heavier than the last.
Turning the shower knob, I stepped under the cold spray without waiting for it to fully adjust. The icy water hit my skin like needles, but it offered some relief, if only temporary. I leaned against the tiled wall, my forehead pressed against the cool surface, trying to steady my breathing.
What was happening to me?
This wasn't exhaustion or stress—it was something deeper, something wrong. My mind raced back to everything Dr. Han had said about pheromones and how alphas could be affected by omegas, especially during their heats. But that wasn't possible, was it? I wasn't… I hadn't felt anything like this before.
The thought of Niran suddenly crossed my mind, unbidden but vivid. His scent, his trembling hands, the way he looked at P'Sang with such desperation—it all came flooding back. My stomach twisted, and I felt a surge of something unfamiliar, something primal.
"No," I muttered to myself, shaking my head. "This can't be happening."
A knock on the bathroom door startled me, and I turned sharply, nearly slipping on the wet tiles.
"Nat?" Mae's voice was muffled but full of concern. "Are you okay in there? You sounded like you were struggling."
I cleared my throat, trying to mask the shakiness in my voice. "I'm fine, Mae. Just needed to cool off."
There was a pause, then her voice came again, softer this time. "You don't sound fine. Let me know if you need anything, okay?"
"Yeah, I will. Thanks," I said quickly, hoping she wouldn't press further.
As her footsteps retreated, I turned the water off and grabbed a towel. My reflection in the mirror was alarming—my face flushed, my eyes too bright, like I was running a fever.
I couldn't ignore it anymore. Something was seriously wrong, and I had a sinking feeling that whatever this was, it had everything to do with Niran.
TBC