Page 78 of Saddle and Scent
Because she's right, and her rightness forces me to confront truths I've been avoiding for years.
"An Omega only has until thirty-five before things go downhill biologically," she continues, her voice taking on the clinical tone of someone delivering medical facts. "Do you really want her to continue waiting until some pack just comes in and she simply settles for them—not because she's happy, but because she's losing years and just has to decide on who's willing to commit?"
Thirty-five.
Nine years.
Nine years before my biology starts working against me instead of with me.
Before heat cycles become irregular, before fertility becomes a question mark, before the window for easy bonding starts to close.
Nine years to figure out if what we had was worth salvaging, or if I need to let go of the past and find someone new to build a future with.
A deadline that forces decisions instead of allowing endless postponement.
The silence stretches, thick with the weight of uncomfortable truths and ticking clocks. I can feel all three of them processing what she's said, weighing it against whatever justifications they've been carrying for the last decade.
"I rest my case," the doctor says finally, and I can hear her moving again, gathering her things with the efficient movements of someone who's said their piece and is ready to leave.
But then Callum's voice cuts through the sound of her departure preparations.
"We were threatened to leave her alone," he says, the words tumbling out in a rush like he's been holding them back for too long. "If we didn't comply, they were going to hurt her."
The world stops.
Everything—my breathing, my heartbeat, the careful pretense of sleep—everything freezes as his words sink in.
Threatened?
Someone threatened to hurt me if they didn't leave me alone.
That's why they pushed me away…?
Not because they didn't want me…not because they thought I was too much trouble?
Not due to them deciding I wasn't worth the complications of a pack bond.
Because someone made them choose between being with me and keeping me safe.
And they chose my safety.
Even though it destroyed all of us.
I try to remain still, try to keep my breathing even, but my heart is hammering so hard I'm afraid they'll hear it.
Ten years.
I've been carrying the weight of thinking they simply didn't want me enough to fight for me.
Believing I wasn't worth the effort, wasn't worth the risk, wasn't worth choosing.
Building walls and defenses against a rejection that was never actually a rejection at all.
"Elaborate," the doctor says, her voice sharp with professional interest and personal concern.
Yes.
Please elaborate.
