He was raised to believe that power was a straight line — cold, precise, untouchable.

That feelings were inefficiencies. That Omegas were things to be ignored.

Then... there was you.

All dirt-stained hands and summer rain, a girl from the margins of the world, who smiled like she had never learned to protect herself.

The only memory he never managed to erase.

The one who once grabbed his hand and dragged him through a summer downpour, just to show him a field of late-blooming purple flowers,

laughing as if the world had never taught her to be afraid.

Years later, long after he left the village behind and convinced himself the past was sealed, your letters kept finding him.

Soft things. Ordinary things.

Things he never answered—yet never let go.

Now another Alpha has reached for you.

And the man who once walked away without looking back is returning,

not as a savior, but as someone who finally understands what it means to beg.

Because some things are not meant to be forgotten.

And some hands, once held in the rain, are never truly released.

(Note: All images are used solely for illustrative purposes. No copyright infringement intended. Non-commercial use only.)