In the early hours, before the birds had even begun to stir, Louis slowly gained consciousness as he felt the mattress shift beneath him, the comforting warmth of another's body slipping away. Harry exited the room with a gentle thud of the door, taking with him the scent that had kept Louis so serene.

In that drowsy moment, Louis realized with a sinking heart that he could never truly have Harry. He had naively believed that last night might have meant something more, but now it was clear it had not.

A single tear traced down his cheek as he berated himself for feeling sparks for someone who felt only lust in return. Overwhelmed by this wretched realization, he fell back into a fitful sleep.

He was next woken by the familiar, agonizing pain of his bondmark. Groaning, he got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on the mark, getting momentary relief from the pain.

He felt unusually cold today, a strange chill that penetrated his bones. His face, in particular, felt as cold as ice, as if cupped by death's hands.

Walking out of the bathroom, he pulled on a large, warm hoodie and snug tights. Then, he collapsed back onto his bed, indifferent to everything around him. He felt too miserable to care about anything, lying there with his eyes closed, seeking solace in the darkness of his room.

Then, when he had finally managed to drift off to sleep again, his phone rang, jolting him awake. With a huff, he picked it up.

"Hello?" Louis groaned, not even knowing who it was.

"Hello, Mr. Styles. No university today? You're not down yet."

"No. Sorry, I forgot to tell you, Alfred," Louis replied, cutting the call and tossing his phone somewhere in the room.

Even thinking about going to university in his current state made him shiver. His bondmark wouldn't stop aching, and his body felt cold, almost lifeless. Louis, for the life of him, couldn't figure out what these symptoms meant.

He did know one thing, though: these were certainly the drawbacks of inadequate aftercare. He hated how Harry acted so hot and cold, one moment claiming him and the next, leaving him alone and ignoring all his responsibilities as an alpha.

For some reason, Louis had been feeling something for Harry the past few days. Well, he felt a lot for Harry—mostly anger, but also something much kinder. He hated to admit it. He knew he was being foolish, but he couldn't control himself or his thoughts. Naturally, they were bound together, and their inner wolves were destined to feel something for each other. That natural bond had made Louis feel something. It was all his inner wolf that had doomed him.

But now he knew he couldn't. He couldn't, because Harry never would.

And how strange it was to be in an unrequited situation with his own husband.

These thoughts didn't leave Louis's mind. Morning turned into afternoon, and all he did was think.

He wanted to call his mother, but he knew if he did, he’d cry, and then his mother would worry. So, he couldn’t.

And how strange it was that he was now afraid of crying in front of his mother, though he’d always run to her whenever he cried before. She always had a solution, but Louis knew she wouldn’t have a solution for this. No one would.

Then, another notification chimed from his phone.

It was a text message from Niall.

𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙉𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡:-
“𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺?”

𝙏𝙤 𝙉𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡:-
“𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬.”

𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙉𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡:-

𝙏𝙤 𝙉𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡:-
“𝘕𝘰.”

𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙉𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡:-
“𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘱?”

𝙏𝙤 𝙉𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡:-
“𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦.”

After a short while, there was a knock on the door. Louis, barely managing to reach it, opened it with the expectation of finding Niall. Instead, he was met by Liam.

“Liam?” Louis asked, puzzled.

“Hi! I need to grab something for Harry. Can I come in?” Liam inquired politely, though he watched Louis with a curious expression.

“Of course,” Louis replied, stepping aside to let Liam enter.

“Would you like something to drink? Hot or cold?” Louis asked courteously, noting that this was the first time Liam had visited the penthouse.

“No, I’m good. Er—are you alright?” Liam asked, now frowning.

“I’m okay. Harry’s room is the one on the left; you can get his stuff there,” Louis directed.

Liam remained still, his mouth slightly agape.

“His room? You don’t share a room?” Liam asked.

“I—well—I meant his workroom. He keeps his study and work materials in there. You’re probably here for those, right?” Louis defended meekly.

“Right,” Liam replied, though it was evident he knew Louis was not being entirely truthful.

Before either of them could say anything, the doorbell rang again. Louis, standing closest to the door, opened it.

“Look who’s here!” Niall said with a smile, but it instantly faltered as he took in the sight of Louis’s face.

“Hi, Niall! This is Liam Payne, Harry’s friend. Liam, this is Niall Horan, my best friend,” Louis introduced.

And now, where before only one person had looked at him with concern, there were two.

“Louis, you’re as pale as a ghost,” Niall said, horrified.

“It’s nothing—” Louis began.

“Your friend is quite right, Louis,” Liam interjected.

“Sit down,” Niall insisted, guiding Louis to the couch in the living room, with Liam following.

“Here, have the soup.” Niall opened the bag, pulling out a plastic container filled with soup and a plastic spoon, and handed it to Louis.

Louis took the container and had a sip of the soup, mainly to reassure Niall. However, as he did, a sharp pain shot through his bondmark, causing him to yelp and drop the container with a thud.

Louis squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain to subside.

"God!" Niall gasped.

Niall’s gaze shifted from Louis to the hickey on his neck and the unusually irritated bondmark. His frown gave way to an expression of realization.

“Louis! Is it—You—” Niall stammered, but Louis understood the implication.

“Yes,” Louis winced.

“Oh God,” Niall said, his worry evident as he sat down next to Louis, gently soothing him by rubbing his hand up and down his back.

After a few seconds of confusion, Liam caught a whiff of Louis’s burnt scent and realization dawned on him as well.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry, Louis. Wait, I’ll—” Liam started to move forward in panic, but Niall stopped him.

“Mr. Payne, I think it’s best if you get whatever you came here for and leave. As you can see, your friend has already done enough,” Niall said angrily.

“Right. I’m—I’m sorry on behalf of Harry. I don’t know why he’s acting so careless. He’s never like this. I swear we’re not like ‘those’ alphas who—” Liam began.

“Don’t defend your friend to me. It would be better if you taught him to treat my friend properly. Look at him! This is what your friend has done to him in a month! So yes, you are exactly like those alphas,” Niall retorted, his anger mounting. Louis, wincing through the pain, managed a small smile. God, he loved Niall.

“You’re right. Your anger is justified. We do try to advise Harry, but I’ll truly talk to him,” Liam said awkwardly, trying to defuse Niall’s anger, which seemed like it could boil over.

Liam mumbled a final “Take care” to Louis before heading into the room to gather the items.

“Bye, Liam. Sorry. We’ll talk later. Niall’s just really protective,” Louis murmured as Liam prepared to leave.

“No, no. He’s right,” Liam said, clearly ashamed, before departing.

As Liam left, Louis shot a glare at Niall.

“He’s nice, Niall.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “He’s friends with Harry. I can’t believe how careless Harry is. God, you were right when we talked before—you do try, but he doesn’t.”

Louis sighed. “Don’t worry so much. This has happened before. I’ll be fine.”

“Before?! You’ve been left without aftercare before too?” Niall asked, bewildered.

“Yes, after the goddamn wedding night. And I was fine, I suppose. I thought things would be different this time, Niall. I thought—*sniff*—he was being nice. I thought maybe he cared now. It’s my fault; I shouldn’t have given in—” Louis said, pouting.

“Don’t you dare say it’s your fault,” Niall warned.

“I just want to sleep,” Louis murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, drained of all energy.

“Alright,” Niall replied softly, his concern evident as he gently helped Louis to his feet and guided him to his room.

Louis sank into the bed, closing his eyes with a weary sigh, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.

Niall ran a hand through his hair, his worry deepening as he sat down beside Louis, who lay there with a fragility that tugged at his heart.

“You rest,” Niall said gently. “I’ll make you something to eat from your fridge. When you wake up, hopefully feeling better, it’ll be ready for you.”

Louis nodded, his voice quiet as he whispered, “Thank you so much, Ni.”

“Shut up,” Niall replied with a small smile, earning a faint grin from Louis.

Louis's smile faded as he stared at the ceiling. “I don’t want to stay here anymore. I think I’ll go to my parents' today.”

Niall looked at him with understanding. “You’re right. I can drop you off.”

But Louis shook his head. “No, I’ll go later when I’m feeling a bit better. If I show up like this, my mum’s going to lose it.”

Niall chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, Jay will murder Harry.”

“Exactly,” Louis agreed with a sigh, his gaze fixed on the ceiling once more. After a moment of silence, he spoke again, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and sadness. “It’s so strange.”

“What’s strange?” Niall asked, frowning.

“I’ve never felt lonely before,” Louis began, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that Niall rarely heard. “I always had my sisters, my parents, you. I was always a social person. But here… I’ve felt so lonely, Niall. Especially this morning. I felt so lonely I could hardly breathe. And I know if I lived here alone, I’d be fine, but… living with Harry is what makes me feel lonely. Him being here makes me lonely. Isn’t that strange? That someone’s presence can make you feel more alone?”

Niall swallowed hard, his heart aching for his friend. His eyes were full of sympathy as he replied softly, “It is strange. But don’t you worry. It’s his loss. I think you should stay with your parents for a while. Their company will do you good.”

Louis nodded, his decision firming. “Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.”

Niall stood up, determined to help in any way he could. “Alright, it’s settled then. You sleep now, and I’ll head to the kitchen to make you something.” With that, he left the room, leaving Louis to curl deeper into his bed, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the aching in his heart.

As Louis settled into his bed, he could faintly hear the clatter of pans being taken out in the kitchen. The sound was comforting in its familiarity, a reminder that Niall was close by, taking care of him. Nuzzling deeper into his blankets, the warmth and quiet lulled him into sleep.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Louis awoke a few hours later, groaning softly as he stretched and sat up in bed. He felt noticeably better, his head no longer pounding, and the pain in his bond mark had subsided significantly, though it hadn't vanished entirely. Niall's support had really soothed his inner wolf, bringing him a sense of calm. Overall, he felt much better.

Louis picked up his phone and saw a few texts from his sisters, likely sharing memes, along with four messages from Niall.

𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙉𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡:-
𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘯. 𝘌𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱. 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘉𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘐 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳.

𝘛𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺. 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴'.

Louis smiled, feeling a warm surge of love for Niall. It touched his heart to see how much Niall cared.

He decided to follow Niall's instructions. First, he got up from his bed and went into the kitchen to drink a glass of water. Then, he noticed the sandwiches sitting on the shelf. Louis picked one up, took a bite, and let out a satisfied moan—Niall had made his favorite. He quickly finished them all, realizing just how hungry he had been.

Louis was contemplating what to pack for his trip to his parents' house when he heard the front door open. A wave of unease washed over him, sending a chill down his spine as he clutched the kitchen shelf for support. Harry was back. The thought of enduring Harry's cold indifference again was almost unbearable.

Harry walked in slowly, setting his laptop bag on the table in the living room without glancing toward the kitchen. But then he suddenly turned, his eyes locking onto Louis. The intense gaze sent a shiver through Louis, making him wish for the very indifference he had dreaded. He would have preferred Harry's cold disregard to the look he was giving him now.

Harry took a few steps forward, his eyes already seeming bored with Louis's presence. But there was a new, distinct emotion in them today—one that Louis had never seen before. It unsettled him, sparking a flicker of fear deep within. He couldn't quite place it, but it felt ominous, like the calm before a storm.

"What did you say to Liam?" Harry asked, his voice eerily calm.

Louis gulped. "Nothing."

Harry smiled sarcastically. "Nothing?"

Louis nodded hesitantly. Usually, he felt more confident when talking to Harry, but today, with everything that had happened, he felt on the verge of tears. The tension between them was palpable, and Louis struggled to find his footing under Harry's scrutinizing gaze.

“Tell me, Louis,” Harry said, his tone mocking, “was Xavier's and that other alpha's attention not enough for you that you needed Liam's too?”

Louis furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about? Don’t talk to me in that tone,” he said, trying to muster some courage.

“I’m talking about the fact that Liam came yelling at me today about how you’re not feeling well. What did you say to him? No, forget that—tell me, do you like it? His 𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘺?” Harry's voice was now harsh.

“I don’t! I didn’t say anything to him. I was genuinely not feeling well, and he just observed,” Louis replied, trying to stay rational despite the growing tension.

"He was talking as if you were dying. You seem fine to me," Harry said dismissively.

Louis furrowed his brow further. He was definitely not fine, and the fact that Harry would discredit his pain stung deeply.

"I'm 𝘯𝘰𝘵 fine. I'm suffering the consequences of your irresponsibility," Louis replied, his voice now edged with anger. The injustice of the situation burned in him, and he felt the urge to defend himself against Harry's callousness.

"Oh, fuck off. I haven't done shit to you," Harry retorted.

"You don't give me aftercare! You're a shit person, Harry," Louis yelled, his frustration boiling over.

Harry took a few steps forward. "And you're saying that no cuddling made you so sick? That you couldn't even hold a can of soup, according to Liam?" Harry laughed derisively. "Your overdramatics might work on others, but they won't on me, Louis. No aftercare doesn't result in such a dire condition. It only gives slight sadness that leaves in three hours. Trust me, I'd know. So for you to take that little fact, run with it, and act as if you're such a victim is insane. You want me to believe you're the victim! That you're a sweet little omega who's just so nice—"

Louis felt the words hit him like a slap. Harry's laughter and accusations cut deep, turning his hurt into a seething anger. He couldn't believe that Harry could be so dismissive and cruel, reducing his pain to mere theatrics.

Louis couldn't take it anymore. He cut Harry off, his voice breaking with emotion. "YES! Because that is who I am!"

"NO! You're not the victim here. You got money! You got fame! By marrying me. People would kill for that!" Harry shot back.

"I didn't want it! Not your money, not your fame, not you! You fucking liar!" Louis shouted, his hands gesticulating wildly with rage. "No aftercare causes so much pain, and you know it! Don’t act like I’m overacting!" His anger and hurt were palpable, and the confrontation seemed to unravel all the pain he had been holding in.

"Oh, shut up! I’ve had omegas tell me themselves that no aftercare doesn’t matter to them!" Harry snapped.

Louis sighed in frustration. "Were those omegas bonded to you?"

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"Were those omegas who said that bonded to you? Probably not. They were just one-night stands for you, right? Because you’re a piece of shit! Let me tell you something, Harry. My experience with no aftercare is not the same as theirs. They don’t need it because their wolves don’t see you as their alpha. 𝘜𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 for me, mine does! I have your goddamn mark on my neck!" Louis's voice rose to a fever pitch, his anger boiling over. Tears of fury welled up in his eyes as he faced Harry’s indifference, the weight of his own pain crashing down on him.

Louis saw Harry's hard expression soften for a fleeting moment before it stiffened once more.

"Still, it isn’t my responsibility. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 were the one who invited me into your room last night. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 should’ve known better," Harry said, his voice cold and unyielding.

"So it’s my fault for assuming you’d have the basic decency not to abandon your own omega? You’re genuinely so fucking evil, Harry," Louis said, his anger palpable.

"Stop talking shit, Louis. I’m not," Harry replied, dismissive.

"You are! You cause me pain—" Louis began, but his words were cut off.

“Alright, if I’m so fucking evil, then what about our parents? Your father knew this would happen. Everyone knew what marrying me meant, Louis. I don’t know what kind of fairytale you were living in, but you should have expected this from me. The tabloids are right—I'm irresponsible, heartless, hedonistic. Your father knew all of that! Yet he still married you to me. You were his sacrificial lamb. So if you have a problem with me and this marriage, direct your anger at the people who arranged it. Not me. I’M TIRED OF BEING BLAMED!” Harry’s voice was filled with raw anger, and Louis flinched, staring at him in stunned silence.

Finally, tears streamed down Louis's cheeks as the harsh reality set in. The fact that Harry, in a twisted way, was correct overwhelmed him, and he broke into sobs, unable to hold back the flood of emotions any longer.

"I couldn’t refuse. Why didn’t you? You could," Louis said after a few moments, his voice subdued and resigned, as if he had given up.

Harry's expression shifted, showing a peculiar look that might have contained a hint of guilt and remorse—or perhaps Louis was just imagining it. Harry’s hands were clenched tightly at his sides, as if they might betray him by reaching out to comfort Louis and wipe away his tears. Louis was certain that Harry’s inner wolf was seething, struggling against the restrained emotion, making the situation even more unbearable.

"I thought there wasn’t any divorce clause," Harry explained, his voice now calm. "If things had gone the way I anticipated, we’d have started divorce proceedings by now. I would have inherited my father’s estate, and you would have received enough money for your family to live comfortably. We both would have been fine."

Louis nodded,