23. Benjamin

Istand there for a second, gripping the doorframe like it's the only thing keeping me upright. I'm not ready for this. I don't think I'll ever fucking be ready for this. But Liam's right; there's shit to be done.

Taking a deep breath that feels more like inhaling shards of glass, I trudge into the bedroom that used to be ours. Her scent lingers. There was a time when that fresh apple scent was my favourite smell in the world. Now, knowing I have to move forward once and for all, it's like acid burning through my nostrils. I told myself I was keeping her stuff around for Mia's sake, and while that was true, I also needed that. But it's holding me back and making me suffer even more.

I hesitate at the wardrobe, then yank it open with more force than necessary. Some of her clothes still hang there, as if she might waltz in any minute, slip into one of her dresses, and smile at me in that way she used to before everything turned to crap.

Not anymore.

I rip hangers from the rail, clothes tumbling into a messy pile on the floor. Each piece feels like a betrayal. How could she do this? How could she leave us like this?

Questions I've asked myself a million times in the two months since she walked out without a word.

By the time I'm halfway through, sweat is dripping down my forehead, and my hands are shaking. The bite is pulsing on my neck with the sheer force of the mating that is unravelling. Each item I throw to the floor is a second closer to freedom. Anger and grief wage a war inside me, neither side winning, just tearing me apart bit by bit.

Stopping suddenly, I swallow and stare at the clothes scattered all around me. There is no order, only chaos, and that's not good enough.

Reaching up, I grab a big suitcase from the top shelf of the wardrobe and sling it on the bed. Opening it, I push aside the memories of the last time we used this, a getaway before Mia was born and Nicole needed all the comforts from home. With a grimace, I bend down and start to meticulously fold and stack the clothes in the case. It's not fair to hand this over to the charity shop in a pile of messy, creased items for them to sort through. Once the clothes from the wardrobe are done, I turn to the drawers, but she took everything from there. Cleaned it out completely. Her bedside cabinet still has a few bits. I open the drawer and rear back from the scent coating the paperback book. I toss that in the suitcase, along with the reading light and the hand cream. Shaking my head, I take the hand cream back out and march to the window. I open it up and throw the half-used tube as far into the back garden as I can. I don't want it anywhere near me. The smell of it had turned me off, and now it makes me feel sick.

All her toiletries went with her, so the en-suite is empty save for a few of my bits.

Once the suitcase is packed, I zip it up with a finality that's supposed to feel liberating. But I just feel fucking empty. The last remaining physical remnants of Nicole are bagged up, ready to be dumped like yesterday's rubbish. It's fitting, seeing as that is how she made me feel.

"Bitch," I mutter and lug the case off the bed.

Standing back, I survey the room. It feels different without her stuff. Cleaner, maybe? Or just emptier. That's it. It's missing the chaos that Nicole always brought into my life. A bloody tornado of emotions and passion that left devastation in its wake.

The ache in my chest that seems to have set up permanent residency since she left, thuds. Not just because she was an omega to my alpha, but because I loved her beyond reason or sanity.

Loved her.

Not anymore. Maybe if she hadn't walked out on her baby, I would still love her, but she made sure I would hate her, and I do. With every breath that I take, I hate her, and I wish her nothing but pain and suffering.

Then my shoulders slump.

I was never a bitter, twisted man. I've never been the life of the party like Liam, preferring to keep to myself as much as possible and not really liking other people all that much, but I was never like this. I would never have even thought to wish someone in pain. She has brought that out in me, and I don't like it. I don't want to be that man.

But right now, I don't know how to get back to the man I was.

Sighing, I leave the bedroom and walk down the landing, pausing at the nursery where Liam is still with Mia.

"Hey," I mutter.

"Hey," he says, looking up. "You good?"

"Yeah. All done." I make a rude gesture to the suitcase, making Liam snicker briefly.

"Is that everything?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"I said yes," I snap and then shake my head. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise, man. I know this must've been tough. But you've done the right thing. I'll take it away right now. Keys?"

"In the blue bowl by the door."

He nods and glances back at Mia, who is sleeping in the cot, before slapping me on the back and heading downstairs with the case.

I go instantly to Mia and feel her forehead. She is still hot, but she doesn't feel as fevered as before. "I'm sorry, sweet girl. You will have to forget her scent and that she ever existed. If she ever comes back, she won't get a chance to know you. At least not until you are old enough to make that decision for yourself. Until then, I will protect you with my last breath, and I will not give her another shot at this. If she even regrets her decision enough to come back." Deep down, I know she won't. She was always selfish and a bit of a narcissist, if I'm being honest. Clarity through distance and all that bollocks. Henry tried to tell me she was a red flag at the beginning, but I didn't listen. Part of me wishes I had, but then that part is drowned out by the fact I wouldn't have the most precious thing in the world to me if I had. So, I'll take this hit for Mia, for both of us, and vow to never, ever to be put in a position to be used again.

The ache in my chest tightens as my words hang in the air, a promise to little Mia, who's oblivious to the world's heartaches. Turning away from the cot, I take a deep breath and steady myself, knowing that my strength is what will keep us both safe now.

Brushing Mia's cheek with the back of my hand, I make sure the monitor is turned on, even though I never turn it off. I feel the silence of the room wrap around me like a cocoon. It's suffocating and liberating all at once. She seems to be resting easier now that she's had her bottle, so I'll leave her in peace for a bit, or I'll just want to hold her until the pain goes away.

Closing the nursery door quietly, I head downstairs, suddenly remembering Zara's purr and my unprecedented reaction. It makes me stop midway, hesitating, undecided if I should turn back to my room and hide or go down there and pretend it didn't happen. One thing I know for sure is that we won't be discussing it—now or ever.