Louis woke the next morning with the worst hangover of his life. But the pounding in his head was nothing compared to the wave of embarrassment that hit him as he recalled the events of the night before—specifically, that it had been Harry who had picked him up.

Days slipped by, blurring into one another. Harry texted Louis just once—the day after he had picked him up from the club. "How are you?" he had asked. Louis replied with a simple, "Fine." And that was the end of it. The conversation, like so many things between them, went no further.

Louis had no desire to leave his parents' house, and they never pressed him to go. Thanks to a few well-placed lies and the one time Harry had dropped him off, his parents seemed convinced that everything between him and Harry was perfectly fine and that Louis simply missed being at home. So they let him stay, and Louis took full advantage of their misconception.

Louis had been staying at his parents’ house for about five weeks now. He was currently sitting beside Niall on the university grounds, explaining how he had been feeling strangely sick and weak for the past few days.

“It’s weird. Eggs have never made me feel sick before,” Louis explained, his brow furrowed in confusion. Niall nodded absentmindedly, more focused on peeling an orange than on Louis’s account of his sudden illness.

He handed a peeled orange segment to Louis and said, “It happens sometimes. Eggs are weird like that. Eat some fruit; you’ll feel better.”

Louis hummed in response, eating the slice, and smiled slightly when Niall immediately offered him another.

Autumn was approaching, and while the days still held a bit of warmth, the evenings had begun to turn colder. A few leaves from the tree under which Louis and Niall were sitting drifted down, fluttering in the crisp air.

Suddenly, Louis's phone rang. He glanced down at the screen—Anne. Casting a hesitant look at Niall, he took a breath and answered the call.

“Hello,” he answered.

“Hello, Louis darling. How are you doing?” Anne asked sweetly.

“Quite well,” Louis replied.

“Great! Great! I was wondering what color you’ll be wearing to the party. I wanted us to match!” Anne said, her excitement palpable.

Confusion spread across Louis’s face. What on earth was his mother-in-law talking about?

“I—what?” he asked, bewildered.

“Oh, the party we're holding to celebrate Harry finalizing a deal with the Percalis! Surely Harry mentioned it to you. Didn’t he—” Anne’s voice trailed off, a sudden realization dawning on her, likely connected to the peculiar situation between Harry and Louis. Louis quickly remembered he needed to ‘pretend.’

“Oh, yes, yes! I’m so sorry, it just slipped my mind. I’ll—uhh—wear navy,” Louis lied, trying to sound convincing.

Anne laughed, her relief evident as Louis's response seemed to dispel her earlier doubts.

“That’s lovely! What a great color choice. I’ll be sure to wear the same. Also, darling?”

“Yes?” Louis said, curious about what else she might want to discuss.

“How are your parents and siblings?”

“They’re doing great,” Louis replied.

“Nice, nice. Um, Liam mentioned a lovely friend of yours—blonde, blue-eyed,” Anne said.

“Yes, Niall,” Louis confirmed.

“Yes, exactly. It would be wonderful if you could bring him along too. You see, Liam has developed a bit of a crush on your friend. Don’t tell him I told you! He’s like a son to me, so he shares these things with me. But of course, I have to play the part of the mother and matchmaker, don’t I?” Anne explained.

Louis laughed. “Really?” he asked, amused. Liam and Niall had only met once, and during that encounter, Niall had yelled at Liam.

“Oh yes,” Anne replied, chuckling.

“Well, I’ll be sure to bring him along,” Louis said, though he was still unclear about which party Anne was referring to.

“Wonderful! Wonderful! See you on Sunday. Take good care of yourself,” Anne said cheerfully.

“See you! You too,” Louis replied before ending the call.

He put the phone down and glanced at Niall, who was looking at him with a questioning expression.

“Apparently, I’m supposed to go to an event on Sunday,” Louis said.

“Huh,” Niall responded.

“And the amazing thing is, I don’t know what time it is, who will be there, or what it even is because my lovely husband couldn’t be bothered to tell me!” Louis said sarcastically.

“But you do know you’ll be wearing navy.” Niall pointed out.

“Do you own anything navy?” Niall asked.

It suddenly dawned on Louis. “No. I’ll have to figure something out,” he sighed. Then he added, “Oh, and you’re also invited.”

“Me? Why?” Niall asked, puzzled.

Louis shrugged. “I don’t know, but please come. I need someone by my side.”

“Nope,” Niall refused.

“Oh, come on! I went to that bar with you, didn’t I?” Louis pleaded.

Niall sighed, recalling how Louis had confided in him about calling Harry and feeling embarrassed. Given how much Louis had done for him, he felt he could at least return the favor. “Fine.”

Louis smiled.

“You should let me have a chat with Harry,” Niall said after a moment of silence.

“Why?” Louis asked.

“So I can cuss him out. I just realized your sudden sickness might be due to his shitty behavior. He needs to check up on you. It’s probably a side effect, Louis. Being with your family made you happy, so it helped your omega stay calm, but that can only last so long. You can’t ignore the bond forever, Louis.”

Louis groaned in frustration. "Niall, don’t remind me."

"But—" Niall began to protest, but Louis interrupted him.

"But nothing! Do you have any idea how infuriating it is to know that your health depends on someone who doesn’t give a damn about you?" Louis nearly shouted.

"No, Louis, you’re incredibly strong," Niall replied gently. "I’m just saying that ignoring it won’t help."

"And what will?" Louis sighed, closing his eyes.

"Surely you can talk to his parents about this. His father assured you’d be taken care of, but you’re not. You need to tell him about how you’re being treated," Niall suggested.

"No, Niall. It's too personal. I'm not close with him."

"But you are close with Anne. You should tell her, then," Niall said.

Louis fidgeted with his fingers, he knew Niall was right.

"I'll think about it," he replied.

"Yes, you should. But first, you need to sort out this whole party situation," Niall urged.

Louis let out another groan. "I really don’t want to go."

"Then don’t," Niall replied matter-of-factly. "Just tell Anne that Harry never mentioned it to you. Say you were just trying to save face during the call—"

Louis's phone rang again. This time, it was Harry. With a heavy sigh, Louis thought to himself that he might need to block every single Styles number at this rate.

Reluctantly, he answered and held the phone to his ear.

"Hello," came Harry's deep voice.

"Hi. What is it?" Louis responded, idly running his fingers through the grass on the ground.

"There’s an important office party this Sunday," Harry said. "It starts at 6 p.m. I’ll pick you up. Be ready."

"You do realize it's already Saturday evening, right?"

"Yes, so?" Harry replied, unfazed.

"So, you couldn’t be bothered to tell me until the last minute?" Louis snapped. "Anne called me earlier, asking what I was planning to wear to this mystery party! Seriously, Harry, if you want me to cover for you, at least give me a heads-up! I panicked and said I'd wear navy! I don’t even own anything navy! What’s wrong with you?"

"I was busy, Louis." Harry replied.

At that point, Louis ended the call.

He turned back to Niall, now visibly irritated. "You know I've already been to two of their weird party things. They're genuinely awful."

"And how's the food?" Niall asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"It's alright," Louis admitted.

"Then we’ll survive," Niall said, giving Louis a reassuring pat on the back.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Louis had borrowed a navy shirt from Niall and paired it with formal black trousers. He had reluctantly gotten dressed, his heart not truly in it, as he didn’t want to attend at all.

Harry was on his way to pick Louis up, while Anne had arranged for someone else to collect Niall—Louis had a strong suspicion that it would be Liam.

Louis still felt unwell. His head ached, and it seemed like anything he ate would come right back up. He chose to ignore it, attributing it to Harry's neglect and brushing it aside without much thought. By now, he had grown accustomed to the physical pain.

Getting ready was a blur. He forced smiles and laughs with his family as they teased him, but the moment he heard Harry honk outside, he left the house, wanting to get this done with.

Louis climbed into Harry’s car without saying a word. Harry stayed silent as well, simply starting the engine. They drove in silence, but Louis didn’t mind the awkwardness—he felt too sick to care.

"Apparently you 𝘥𝘰 have something navy to wear," Harry remarked sarcastically halfway through the drive, breaking the heavy silence.

"I hope you get murdered, Harry," Louis replied in a flat, monotonous voice, completely devoid of humor or warmth. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and he couldn’t tolerate Harry’s snide remarks any longer.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the comment, then he burst out laughing. Louis felt something stir in his stomach, something unrelated to his lingering sickness. It was the first time he'd ever made Harry truly laugh.

"God, you're really sick of me, aren’t you?" Harry said with a smile.

"You have no idea," Louis replied, his voice now carrying a hint of warmth.

The drive continued on, less awkward than before.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
It was a home event, Louis realized as Harry parked his car infront of his parents mansion. They stepped out and headed inside, making their way directly to the hall. Louis was pleasantly surprised to find Niall already there, engaged in conversation with Anne, who was smiling, and Liam, who stood beside them.

"Oh, there they are! The Styles!" Anne exclaimed cheerfully as they approached. Louis offered her a smile in return.

Anne stepped forward to give him a hug. "It's great to see you again!" she said warmly.

"And what a lovely friend you have," Anne said, gesturing toward Niall with a smile.

"I think I'm in love with Anne," Niall said with a grin, causing everyone to laugh, including Harry.

Louis thought to himself that maybe his earlier success in making Harry laugh wasn’t so unique after all. Harry was probably just in a good mood, having recently closed a big business deal, as Anne had mentioned. It was no surprise he was feeling upbeat.

"That's exactly what I thought when I met her for the first time," Liam said.

"Oh, you both!" Anne exclaimed, shushing them playfully.

"You really are wonderful, though," Louis said to Anne, his tone sincere.

“Makes you wonder who Harry took after!” came a voice from behind them—Xavier. Louis and Liam both burst into laughter.

“It really does,” Liam agreed, still chuckling.

Harry rolled his eyes, looking slightly annoyed. “Who invited him?”

Xavier, adopting a mock-serene tone, responded, “You can roll your eyes all you want, but we both know this celebration wouldn’t be complete without me and my intense love for you.”

“Love for me?” Harry raised his eyebrows.

“𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 for you,” Xavier corrected with a grin.

Harry was about to speak, but Xavier cut in, glancing at Anne and then at Louis, who were both, by design, wearing navy.

“My two favorite omegas matching! On purpose?” he asked.

Anne smiled and replied, “Yes!”

“Adorable. You’re looking positively radiant, by the way,” Xavier said, directing his gaze at Louis, who simply smiled in return despite feeling far from his best.

Harry’s annoyance deepened.

“And you look wonderful too, Mr.?” Xavier said, extending a hand.

“Horan. Niall Horan,” Niall replied with a smile.

“Great name. I’m Xavier!” Xavier said, reaching out to shake Niall’s hand, but Liam interrupted.

“Uh, dude, I think Zayn and Mr. Styles are looking for you,” Liam said.

“Oh yes!” Xavier exclaimed as if suddenly remembering something, then walked away.

Louis watched as both Harry and Liam breathed sighs of relief.

The conversation continued. Louis noticed Niall casting disapproving glances at Harry whenever he thought no one was watching, which nearly made Louis laugh.

Both alphas, Harry and Liam, left shortly after. Eventually, Anne had to leave as well.

“They’re filthy rich, fucking hell!” Niall whispered urgently.

“I know,” Louis replied.

“I don’t feel like I fit in,” Niall said.

“And you think I do?” Louis said with a smile.

“Hey! The wedding ring’s back,” Niall remarked, eyeing Louis’s fingers.

“Yes. Obviously had to wear it tonight,” Louis replied.

A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes and offered them to the pair. Niall gladly accepted one, but Louis declined. He felt too sick to drink and knew he’d end up throwing up.

Niall looked at Louis and asked, “Still feeling sick?”

“Yes." Louis lamented, pouting.

“Louis, mind if I ask you something a bit private?” Niall whispered.

“Not at all,” Louis whispered back, though it was unnecessary since the music had started playing and everyone was talking loudly enough that no one could overhear them.

“Your heat—it’s supposed to be near, right?” Niall asked, his concern evident.

Horror swept over Louis. “Niall! Oh my god! It was supposed to start last week! What the fuck!”

“And nothing happened?” Niall asked.

“No! None of the usual symptoms. I’m not feeling anything right now, either! My heat is always regular. It can’t just skip. Can it?” Louis said, his confusion clear.

“Louis, it could if—” Niall started, but Louis quickly realized the implication.

“If what?” Louis asked, only to understand the answer immediately after he spoke. If he was pregnant.

“Fuck no,” Louis replied.

“Let’s not panic,” Niall said, trying to soothe him.

“Not panic?! Niall, that cannot happen!” Louis said, his voice laced with worry.

“Relax, Louis. Nothing’s confirmed yet, is it? Maybe your heat is just delayed because of the emotional stress you’re under,” Niall said soothingly.

“Yeah. Yes. That’s— that’s probably it,” Louis said, breathing out slowly, hoping fervently that was the case. He remembered taking a pill after the first time, but the second instance was so blurry in his memory that he couldn’t be sure.

Niall made a concerted effort to shift the conversation away from the troubling thought and managed to succeed fairly well. Soon, Louis and Niall were engrossed in gossiping about someone they knew from high school.

Liam approached them shortly after, his steps quiet but deliberate.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he said, glancing at Louis. "But Mr. Styles is asking for you. He's in the room just off the hall."

"Oh, alright," Louis muttered, throwing a quick "I'll be back" to Niall before heading off.

Liam stepped into the spot Louis had just vacated, attempting to strike up a conversation with Niall, though he seemed unusually nervous.

Louis made his way through the crowded hall, weaving past groups of people, until he reached the room Liam had mentioned. Inside, he found Anne, Desmond, Zayn, and Harry. It was clearly a private space, tucked away from the main party, reserved for family and close friends.

"Hello," Louis greeted politely as he walked in.

"Louis! How are you, dear?" Desmond exclaimed, moving toward him and pulling him into a warm hug.

"I'm well," Louis lied with a small smile. "And you?"

"Great, great," Desmond replied, beaming.

Louis returned Desmond's smile with a tight-lipped one before moving to sit beside Anne on one of the couches in the spacious room. Across from them, Zayn and Harry stood together, engaged in quiet conversation.

"Zayn, could you hand me the draft from the meeting, please?" Desmond asked after a moment.

"Sure," Zayn replied casually.

Louis glanced over at Harry, noticing the sudden tension in his expression. He seemed on edge.

"Why not ask Harry for it?" Anne said innocently. "Zayn will have to go out of his way to bring it here."

"It's alright—" Zayn began, but Desmond interrupted him.

"I would've asked Harry if he had it," Desmond said, his tone pointed and direct.

Anne shot a confused glance at Harry, who quickly looked away.

"Why wouldn’t he—"

"Because he didn’t attend the meeting," Desmond interrupted sharply. "Zayn handled the whole thing. Harry, on the other hand, apparently decided to spend his precious time at a club." His words dripped with disdain as Harry, still avoiding eye contact, sipped from the glass of whiskey in his hand, the top few buttons of his shirt undone.

"He had already set the points; I just followed through," Zayn defended Harry. "He did most of the work in preparation, he just couldn’t be there to attend."

"It’s not that he couldn’t attend," Desmond snapped, his disappointment palpable. "It’s where he chose to go! I would’ve understood if something important had come up. But to a club?"

"He did most of the work," Zayn repeated weakly, still trying to defend Harry.

"That does not matter," Desmond retorted sharply.

Harry remained unmoved, his face an emotionless mask.

"Harry, is that true?" Anne asked, her voice tinged with embarrassment as she cast a worrying look to Louis.

"Yes," Harry replied simply.

"You were wondering why Louis has been at his father's for so long, right, Anne?" Desmond continued, his anger growing. "Well, what else can the poor boy do but be at his father’s when his husband is out at clubs? Do you have any idea how disrespectful that is, Harry?"

Louis's heart sank, a wave of guilt washing over him. He had never felt worse. This was all his fault; Harry wasn’t the one to blame. He had only gone to the club to pick Louis up. Feeling a wave of nausea, he knew he had to speak up.

"Mr. Styles, I—" Louis began, but he faltered as Harry shot him a sharp look, shaking his head subtly. The unspoken message was clear: stay silent.

"No, no, don’t defend him, Louis," Anne said firmly. "Desmond is right. I can’t believe you would do that, Harry."

"I had hoped to keep this from you until after the event, but here we are," Desmond sighed.

"I'm sorry. It won’t happen again," Harry said, his voice edged with hardness.

"Don’t apologize to us, Harry," Anne retorted sharply. "Apologize to the omega who bears your mark and has been enduring God knows what you’ve thrown at him, never uttering a single word to anyone about it!"

"It's fine, I don't mind. It's okay," Louis said quickly, trying to defuse the situation.

"You're too good, son," Desmond said, his look a mix of sympathy and shame.

Louis swallowed hard at the word "son."

Suddenly, Harry downed his whiskey in one gulp, pushed away from the wall, and stormed out of the room, his departure marked by a harshness that filled the space left behind.

Louis looked down, feeling a deep sense of guilt. It was all his fault,