Fallen General's Omega (BL)-Chapter 225: So this is love

Thorne’s POV

The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lantern casting warm shadows across the walls. The familiar scent of home—of Noelle, of our daughter—fills the space, comforting and grounding me after what feels like a lifetime away.

Noelle is curled up in the middle of our bed, his long dark lashes resting gently against his cheeks, his chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths. He looks so peaceful like this, utterly serene, and I feel a deep warmth settle in my chest at the sight of him.

But I can’t ignore the way he’s been sleeping more than usual, how he gets tired so easily these days. I let out a quiet sigh, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his face. He didn’t even take the time to oil his hair before falling asleep—a true sign of exhaustion. The last time that happened, he refused to let me touch him for an entire day when he realized the state it had fallen into. I chuckle to myself, remembering his dramatic gasp of horror when he saw his tangled locks in the mirror, acting as if the world had ended.

Shaking my head fondly, I retrieve the sweet-smelling vial of oil from his nightstand and pour a small amount into my palm, rubbing it between my hands to warm it before gently running my fingers through his hair.

I take my time, carefully massaging his scalp, working the oil through each strand like he usually does. He stirs slightly, making a soft noise, but doesn’t wake. His lips part just a little, his breath warm against my wrist as I continue my ministrations.

Twenty-nine minutes pass, but I don’t mind. This is my favorite part of the day, these quiet moments where I can just take care of him. Where I can remind myself how lucky I am to have him in my arms, in my life.

Once I’m satisfied, I wipe my hands clean and glance over at the crib, where our daughter sleeps soundly, her tiny form bundled in soft blankets. Mimi. Our little star.

She had cried herself hoarse when we returned, her little face scrunched up in distress, her chubby fists waving as if demanding to know where we had been. Noelle had swooped in immediately, cradling her in his arms, whispering soft reassurances while I stood there feeling vaguely guilty for leaving her behind. It had taken hours of rocking and gentle shushing, but eventually, she forgave us, falling asleep curled up on Noelle’s chest, her tiny fingers gripping his shirt possessively.

I run a hand down my face, exhaling quietly before heading to the bathroom. A quick bath should be enough to wash away the exhaustion clinging to my bones.

The water is warm, soothing as I sink into it. The tension in my muscles eases slightly, but my mind is elsewhere—on Noelle, on the way he’s been so tired lately.

I don’t like it.

I should call for a doctor tomorrow. Just to be sure.

The thought lingers in my mind as I dry off and pull on some loose pants before making my way back to the bed.

Noelle is still deeply asleep, curled up like a cat, his body naturally seeking out warmth even in unconsciousness. I slide in beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under my weight. The moment I do, he instinctively moves toward me, his body gravitating toward mine.

I chuckle softly and reach for him, wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling him close. His face buries against my chest, his breath warm against my skin. I press a lingering kiss to the top of his head, inhaling the familiar scent of him—floral oils, something soft and uniquely Noelle.

"Mm," he hums sleepily, shifting slightly before settling again, completely relaxed against me.

I rub small, soothing circles on his back, his body warm and pliant in my arms. He fits against me perfectly, as he always has, as if he was made to be here.

"I love you," I murmur against his hair, the words slipping out naturally, reverently.

No response. Just soft breathing.

I smile to myself. It doesn’t matter. I’ll tell him again in the morning. And the day after that. And for every day to come.

With one last glance toward our daughter’s crib, ensuring she’s still peacefully asleep, I finally let my own eyes close, holding my entire world in my arms.

Tomorrow, I’ll call for a doctor.

But tonight, I’ll just hold him.

*

Where are they?

Panic claws at my throat as I search for them—my family, my reason for breathing. The chaos around me blurs into a nightmare, but all I can focus on is the desperate need to reach them before it’s too late.

Then I hear it. A scream.

My name.

"No, no, no!" I grit my teeth and force myself to move faster. Not again. I can’t lose them again.

Then—

"Thorne!!!"

The sheer agony in that voice rips through me, and my vision narrows. I recognize that voice—it’s Noelle.

"Noelle!!!" I roar, my voice breaking, my soul shattering with the plea.

Please. Please don’t take him away from me.

I run harder, but the ground trembles beneath me, the earth itself betraying my desperation. My heart lurches as I watch, helpless, as the world tilts, swallows, consumes—

Darkness.

I wake with a sharp gasp, my body drenched in sweat, my chest heaving as if I had run for miles. My hands clutch the sheets, fingers trembling, my mind struggling to separate dream from reality. My breathing is loud in the stillness of the room, the phantom cries still ringing in my ears.

Then I turn, and there he is.

He’s sleeping peacefully beside me, his chest rising and falling with each slow, steady breath. His face, soft in the moonlight, is untouched by the horrors that just ripped me from sleep.

Only then do I exhale, my body releasing the tension that had held it prisoner. I press a shaking hand to my forehead, willing my pulse to slow.

It was just a dream.

Just a dream.