The night of the leg cramp marked a turning point. Since then, a strange, almost eerie calm had settled over the apartment.
Emma's care became more natural—no longer forced or clumsy. She remembered to leave a warm glass of milk and calcium tablets on Gu Liang's nightstand. She asked the housekeeper to adjust the floor heating before the weather turned cold. When he worked too long at the computer, she quietly replaced his cold tea with a fresh, warm cup.
Gu Liang remained silent, But he no longer treated her every gesture as manipulative or meaningless. He drank the milk. Accepted the warmth. And when she changed his tea, He tapped his fingers twice on the table— A silent acknowledgment.
But the most profound change happened in the air.
Between an Alpha and an Omega, Pheromones speak louder than words.
Emma's cedar-and-whiskey scent had once been volatile— Restless, aggressive, like a blizzard that never stopped. Gu Liang's white tea scent had been a frozen lake— Cold, distant, impenetrable.
Now, Emma's scent had mellowed. The cedar was still crisp, But no longer sharp. The whiskey's heat had softened into something deeper— Like amber, aged and warm. It reflected her growing calm, Her sense of responsibility.
Gu Liang's white tea had changed too. The icy edge had melted slightly. The floral notes grew stronger— Warmed by sunlight. Still distant, But no longer cutting.
Their scents no longer clashed. They began to blend— Cautiously. Tentatively.
Cedar steadied the tea's chill. White tea soothed the cedar's lingering restlessness.
The air itself felt gentler. Balanced.
It was silent— But more powerful than any conversation.
One night, Gu Liang worked late in the study. Emma sat in the living room, restless. She wanted to tell him to rest— But didn't want to interrupt.
Eventually, she couldn't resist. She opened the door quietly.
Gu Liang didn't notice. He was focused, typing quickly, eyes fixed on the screen.
Emma leaned against the doorframe, Watching him.
The desk lamp outlined his profile— Softer now, from pregnancy. His neck still elegant. His expression calm, Focused.
His white tea scent, warmed by concentration, Drifted into the room. It mingled with Emma's steady cedar— A quiet, invisible dance.
Emma inhaled deeply. The blend calmed her. Satisfied her.
It felt… right.
Time passed.
Gu Liang finally leaned back, Exhaled, Rubbed his temples.
Then he saw her.
"You're still up?" His voice was neutral— But not cold.
"Mm." Emma stepped in, Placed a small dish of washed blueberries beside him.
"You've been working late. Eat something. Then rest."
Gu Liang looked at the fruit. Then at her.
Her eyes were clear. No calculation. No flattery. Just care.
He paused. Then picked up a berry. Popped it into his mouth.
Sweet juice burst across his tongue, Easing the dryness and fatigue.
"…Thanks." His voice was soft.
Two simple words— But they struck Emma like a feather across the heart.
Joy. And something bittersweet.
It was the first time since everything fell apart That he had thanked her.
Not out of politeness. But from somewhere real.
"You're welcome." Her voice was tight. She tried to stay composed.
"It's late. You should sleep."
Gu Liang nodded. Shut down his computer. Stood.
They walked out together. In the hallway, Emma's scent drifted closer— A shield against the night's chill.
Gu Liang paused. Didn't pull away. Didn't speed up.
His white tea scent responded— Wrapping around hers.
Their pheromones twined in the quiet corridor, Like the softest notes of a nocturne.
No words. No touch.
Just scent— Telling the story of two hearts No longer at war.
That night, Emma slept deeply.
And in the master bedroom, Gu Liang lay in the dark, Breathing in the faint cedar that lingered in the air.
For the first time, He didn't replay the past before sleep.
He placed a hand on his belly, Felt the strong, steady heartbeat within.
Maybe…
Maybe change is happening.
Maybe this marriage, born of hatred,Is being led somewhere neither of us expected—By this child.
The fusion of pheromones Was the first sign of hearts drawing closer.
The road ahead was still long. But at least— They were no longer walking in opposite directions.
The first light before dawn Had pierced the clouds. Quiet. But undeniable.