Everything felt normal for Louis today—eerily so. In fact, it had felt this way for the past three days, ever since he had returned to his parents’ home. It was as though life had reverted to how it used to be, before everything, before Harry.

He woke up in his old bedroom, the one he had grown up in. The routine was almost comforting: waking his siblings up for school, insisting he wasn’t hungry while his mother insisted on feeding him breakfast anyway. Niall arrived to pick him up for university, dismissing Louis’s suggestion of taking the bus as impractical.

But deep down, Louis knew it wasn’t the same. This was just a facade, a temporary reprieve. Eventually, he would have to leave again, to go back to that cold penthouse.

He was only here for a visit, after all. His parents had welcomed him with open arms, telling him he could stay as long as he wanted—they had missed him so much. But Louis knew he couldn’t stay forever, no matter how much he desperately wanted to.

His day at university was uneventful, passing in a blur of lectures and routine. He just went through the motions, attending classes with Niall by his side, who cracked jokes to lighten the mood.

At one point, Anne called to ask how he was doing. Her tone was warm and familiar, as if she knew nothing about the argument between him and Harry. She did, however, know that he was visiting his parents and, as always, she was sweet and caring.

Harry, on the other hand, hadn't called or sent a message to check on him. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still hurt.

As they walked out of uni and headed toward the parking lot, Niall broke the silence. "Louis."

"Hmmm?" Louis responded absentmindedly.

"I want to go to a club tonight," Niall announced.

"Why?" Louis asked, glancing at him curiously.

Niall rolled his eyes. "To get laid, Louis."

Louis nearly choked on his own laughter, raising an eyebrow. "And what does that have to do with me, you wench?"

Niall burst out laughing. "Well, you're coming with me, of course."

"Nope."

"Yup."

"Not happening, Ni."

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun, and it'll help you get over everything," Niall insisted.

Louis sighed, uncertain. "I don't know, Ni." They finally reached his car and got in.

But Niall didn’t let up, whining and pleading the entire drive from the university to Louis’s house. By the time they arrived, Louis had reluctantly agreed.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Harry sat slumped in his office chair, his head buried in his hands, as a chorus of worries echoed relentlessly in his mind. Most were the usual suspects—how he'd juggle the mountain of assignments looming over him, how he'd handle the new business responsibilities his father had unceremoniously dumped on his shoulders, how he'd finally prove to his father that he was, in fact, capable of bearing that weight.

And, of course, how his friends were almost certainly furious with him for drifting away. But there was one worry—a new one—that gnawed at him with a ferocity that left him bewildered and angry. He couldn't understand why it had lodged itself so deeply in his mind, but there it was, repeating like a maddening refrain.

No matter how hard he tried to shove it aside, to drown it out with reason or sheer willpower, it clung to him, tormenting him endlessly for the past three days.

And that worry was the most consuming of all. It pressed down on him like a searing weight. Half of him, his wolf side, was furious at him and for once, he couldn’t shake the gnawing sense of wrongdoing that plagued him—a feeling he rarely encountered, usually drowned out by his justifications and excuses.

This time, he had excuses, too; he blamed his father for orchestrating the mess. Yet, deep down, he knew the fault was not solely his father’s. The truth was that he was complicit, and the weight of that realization burned with an intensity he could neither ignore nor escape.

That worry was Louis. Harry was consumed by a concern he had never anticipated—Louis’s well-being. He fretted over whether the omega had eaten properly, if he was still grieving over their argument, or if he was recounting to his parents how truly awful Harry was, potentially fueling their disdain for him. Yet, deep down, Harry knew that Louis was faring better in his parents’ house than he (Louis) was in the penthouse.

He could sense it through their bond—the immense relief Louis had felt when he walked out of the penthouse three days ago. So, Harry chose to let him be.

Despite his wolf becoming so angry at him that he tried to make him claw at his own arm so that Harry would be forced to check on the goddamn omega that had their mark, Harry still did not. Partly because he was embarrassed, partly because he did not know what to say and partly because he genuinely thought that he should not ruin Louis's peace by messaging or calling him. He did not want to upset the omega any further.

A part of him still clung to the belief that he wasn’t entirely to blame, he did think or used to think that a lack of aftercare wouldn’t deeply wound Louis. He understood that it could lead to sadness for omegas in general, and that it might be worse for Louis given their relationship, but he never anticipated the extent of the hurt. Nevertheless, his conscience was unyielding—he shouldn’t have acted as he did, nor should he have dismissed Louis’s genuine pain as mere theatrics during their argument. He regretted it deeply, but the prospect of ever expressing this remorse to Louis seemed improbable.

A knock at the door jolted Harry from his thoughts, and he looked up as Zayn stepped into the room.

"Yes?" Harry asked, trying to shake off his preoccupation.

"Meeting with the Percalis at midnight. It’s extremely important. Do not miss it," Zayn instructed.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "That late?"

"Yes. This was the only available slot that fit both their and our schedules. The next opening is a week away, and your father—our boss—insisted on scheduling it as soon as possible. So, tonight it is," Zayn explained.

Harry nodded. "Alright." His gaze shifted to the clock, which read 7 p.m.

Zayn lingered, casting Harry an odd, scrutinizing look.

Harry sighed, recognizing the familiar expression—Zayn clearly wanted to talk. Three days ago, Liam had seen Louis sick and come to confront Harry in front of Zayn. Harry had already endured a scolding from Liam and was in no mood for another lecture from Zayn.

"Not right now, Zayn, please. I know I was wrong," Harry conceded.

Zayn’s mouth fell open in shock. Never, in his decade of knowing Harry Edward Styles, had he heard him admit fault so plainly. His mind was nearly short-circuiting from the surprise.

After a moment, he snapped his mouth shut, nodded silently, and left the room, planning to inform Liam about this unexpected development after the meeting. He had a few things to prepare before then.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Louis rolled his eyes as Niall’s car horn blared outside—again. He just needed two more minutes to put on his shoes, and then he’d be ready. Was that really too much to ask?

After lacing up his shoes, he stood, left his room, and made his way downstairs. He closed his eyes and sighed in frustration as Niall honked yet again, as if for the millionth time. That omega had not an ounce of patience.

He hurried downstairs and spotted his mother and sister, Lottie, at the dining table, which was covered with Lottie’s English books. His mother was helping her with her homework, while she looked bored out of her mind. The sight almost made Louis chuckle, which earned him an irritated glare from Lottie.

“God, I don’t miss high school,” Louis remarked as he walked over to them.

“Fuck off,” Lottie groaned.

“Hey! Language!” their mother chided.

“Sorryyy,” Lottie replied, flashing Louis a fake smile.

“Where are you off to?” his mother asked.

“To the club. With Niall,” Louis answered casually.

“Oh, nice. Have you asked Harry?”

Louis frowned, taken aback. What?

“What?” Lottie voiced his confusion out loud.

"Well, I don't mean anything by it. I just think you should let Harry know you're going out, darling, that's all," his mother said gently.

"He's 21. He doesn't need to let anyone know what he's doing. And as the alpha of this house—since Dad isn't here right now—I hereby grant you permission," Lottie declared with a mock noble accent, a teasing smile on her face.

Louis rolled his eyes and gave his sister's ear a quick twist, making her yelp in surprise. “Ouch! Sorry, sorry! Ow, I was joking!” she exclaimed, trying to pull away.

"How very kind of you," Louis retorted with a smirk, finally letting go of her ear. He headed out the door, ready to leave the chaos behind.

Louis climbed into Niall's car just as it began to pull away.

"I'm so excited," Niall said, practically buzzing with energy.

Louis gave a small smile. "I have this strange sense of impending doom."

"Why?" Niall asked, glancing over at him.

"Because the last time you dragged me out to a club, I had the misfortune of meeting my dear husband for the first time—which led to everything in my life going to shit," Louis explained.

Niall cackled. "Well, maybe this time you'll meet your second husband."

Louis laughed along. "Hopefully, he’s an improvement over the current one."

The club Niall had dragged Louis to was... raunchy. Niall always liked to live life a little closer to the edge than Louis did. But Louis had always supported Niall—he was the only true friend Louis had.

Over the past month, a few old schoolmates and some people from uni had reached out to him, trying to meet up. But Louis knew what they were really after: they all had the same question—"How’d you end up married to Harry Styles?" That was it. They didn’t want his company or friendship; they wanted an association, a story to tell. So he never replied to any of them. These were the same people who never gave him a second glance before.

In truth, he only had Niall, and that was why he was putting up with this godawful club with its godawful music.

Niall was on the dance floor, moving with some handsome alpha, completely in his element. Meanwhile, Louis sat alone at the bar, nursing his drink. With each sip of alcohol, his frustrations with Harry seemed to bubble up, growing stronger, more insistent, like an old wound being reopened.

He had tried his best not to think too much about Harry, knowing it would only lead to frustration and anger. Dwelling on it never changed anything. But the alcohol was wearing down his defenses, loosening the grip he had on his emotions. With each sip, his thoughts grew more bitter, circling back to all the ways Harry had wronged him, replaying every mistake and hurtful word. The alcohol magnified it all, making it harder to push the memories away.

After about an hour, Louis realized that drinking more every time he thought of Harry was only doing him a disservice. At this point, he had also realized he was quite drunk, and a few alphas around the bar were staring at him. A rush of horror swept over him when he noticed he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. Why? Well, after coming home from Harry’s, he had angrily taken it off and thrown it at his dressing table, where it still lay untouched.

God, Louis groaned to himself.

And despite every neuron in his brain screaming at him to stop, he continued to sip from his glass.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Niall standing behind him.

“Hey! I’m going home with someone, Lou. Let me call you a cab,” Niall said.

“Nooo, I’m fine,” Louis insisted, waving him off.

“No, Louis. I can’t just leave you here,” Niall said firmly, his expression shifting to concern.

“I’m not a child, Niall. I’ll call myself a cab when I’m—” he hiccuped, “—ready to go home.”

“Louis, no—”

“Shut up,” Louis huffed.

“Stop being so stubborn,” Niall replied, reaching for his phone to call a cab.

But Louis grabbed it swiftly. “Stop being so uptight. Go home and enjoy yourself. You clearly need it,” he groaned, leaning against the bar.

Niall laughed. “Really?”

“Get out of my sight,” Louis muttered.

“And you’ll be okay?” Niall asked, still hesitant.

“Yes. I’m not five,” Louis replied, waving him away again.

He wanted to be alone.

Niall reluctantly left, but not before bombarding Louis with a million instructions—be safe, call if you need anything, don’t drink too much. Louis nodded absently, his mind already elsewhere, focused on the bitterness he was trying to wash away.

As soon as Louis was alone, he felt the unwanted eyes of alphas disrupting his fragile peace. The club was, after all, pretty raunchy, and Louis realized that as the night went on, things were getting even more reckless.

His anger toward Harry had also tripled from what it had been at the start of the night. Despite everything, his inner omega missed him—longed for him, even. Why? Louis couldn't figure out himself. He couldn't believe one mark had made his inner omega so attached. He despised it. And in a haze of frustration and alcohol-fueled impulsiveness, Louis made the unwise decision to call Harry.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Zayn, if I don’t see those motherfuckers in my office in five seconds, I’m leaving,” Harry said sharply, his patience long gone. He and Zayn were sitting in his office, waiting for the Percalis to show up. Harry’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. It was 12:15 a.m.

“It’s only been fifteen minutes, Harry,” Zayn replied, taking a slow puff of his cigarette. He was sprawled across Harry’s couch, looking far more relaxed than the situation warranted.

“And if I were fifteen minutes late to a meeting, Dad, Alfred, and you would’ve wanted my head on a stick. Dad probably would’ve called me every name in the book,” Harry muttered, rolling his eyes.

Zayn was just about to reply, his mouth half-open, when Harry’s phone rang. The sudden sound cut through the tension in the room, and Zayn raised an eyebrow, watching Harry's reaction.

Harry's eyebrows shot up when he saw Louis's name on the screen. He certainly wasn’t expecting a call from him, especially considering how furious Louis had been with him lately.

He answered the call, cautious. “Hello?”

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiii!” Louis giggled, his voice slurred. Harry could hear chaos in the background—voices, laughter, and unmistakably loud club music. He frowned, piecing it together.

“Fuck you, Harry,” Louis slurred, his tone so adorably light that it almost sounded like a sweet endearment rather than an insult. Harry heard him giggle again, and it clicked—Louis was definitely drunk.

“Are you drunk? Where are you, Louis?” Harry asked, sitting up straighter in his chair. The shift in his tone caught Zayn's attention, making him raise his eyebrows as he watched Harry closely.

“It’s your *hiccup* fault,” Louis muttered.

Harry sighed. “What’s my fault?”

“Me being drubk! I was sooo mad at you, couldn’t— *hey! Go away!*—Right, as I was saying, alllll your fault.”

“Who are you talking to? Where are you?” Harry demanded, his tone turning sharp.

“Ask nicely, and I may tell,” Louis teased.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to rein in his frustration. “Louis, where are you?” he asked, his voice softer this time.

“At this musty, dusty club,” Louis replied, yawning midway through his answer.

“With who? What’s its name?” Harry asked, his voice growing more concerned.

“Currently alone,” Louis answered, pointedly ignoring the second question.

“What’s ‘currently’ supposed to suggest?” Harry asked, now visibly agitated, his breath catching in his throat.

Louis groaned. “Stop being a judgmental piece of shit. I came with Niall. He left.”

“Right,” Harry said, a sigh of relief escaping him. “Share your location. I’m sending Zayn to pick you up.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?!”

“I won’t go if Zayn comes to pick me up. You come, or I’ll stay here, and I don’t think they’d mind that—wait— *hey sir, would you mind if I stayed here? No, gorgeous, of course not* ”

Harry tightened his grip on the phone, his eyes darkening with frustration. Why did Louis have to test him so much? Goddammit.

“Louis, I have a very important meeting—” Harry began slowly, hoping his annoying husband would understand.

“Don’t care,” Louis interrupted, cutting the call.

“Motherfucker,” Harry muttered under his breath, his frustration palpable. His phone tinged once again, thankfully Louis at least sent his location.

“What happened?” Zayn asked, looking up from his spot on the couch.

“I’m married to an idiot who knows just how to get under my skin,” Harry snapped, angrily grabbing his coat from the back of his office chair and heading toward the door.

“Hey, wait! What about the meeting? You can’t skip it, Harry!” Zayn said, getting up from the couch.

“Zayn, he’s in a club with alphas talking to him. I’m a ticking bomb right now. Handle the meeting,” Harry said, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

Once again, Zayn was left shocked beyond measure. He had never seen Harry so possessive before. It was clear that Harry's protective alpha instinct was driving him, but there was something else underlying it that Zayn couldn’t quite place. His head was spinning at this point.

Just as Harry drove away from the building, someone informed Zayn that the Percalis had arrived. With a resigned sigh, Zayn realized he would have to handle the meeting alone.

Harry reached the club at breakneck speed, driving recklessly under the night sky. As soon as he stepped inside, he quickly realized the type of establishment it was—an incredibly sleazy, no-frills kind of club. The atmosphere was thick with grime and desperation, a stark contrast to the posh world he was used to.

Harry scanned the room, his gaze locking onto Louis sitting at the bar, visibly annoyed by the presence of a random alpha beside him. Without wasting a moment, Harry strode over there.

The alpha tried to place his hand on Louis’s thigh, but Louis swiftly slapped it away.

“I’m married, asshole!” Louis snapped.

“Well, I don’t see your husband anywhere around here, darling,” the alpha retorted, his tone dripping with condescension.

Harry grabbed the alpha by the collar, yanking him back with such force that the alpha gasped in surprise.

“Now you do, fucker,” Harry growled, shoving him out of the chair with ease, as if the alpha were weightless. The frightened alpha scrambled away, clearly terrified of Harry’s imposing presence.

Harry’s gaze fixed on Louis, his agitation palpable. Yet, as he looked down, the anger in his eyes seemed to melt away. Louis’s shiny blue eyes looked up at him, his face resting on his hand, his elbow propped on the table, and his lips pink and slightly pursed.

Harry shook his head, pulling himself out of the reverie and refocusing on the situation at hand.

“How many times do I have to throw alphas off of you, my dear?” Harry asked sarcastically.

“Maybe you should’ve married a less hot omega, then, darling,” Louis replied, blinking up at him with feigned innocence.

Harry sighed deeply. “Do you even realize how important the meeting I had to leave was?” he asked pointedly.

“I’m so low on your list of priorities, aren’t I?” Louis replied, his