Fallen General's Omega (BL)-Chapter 194: Mundane

"Thorne, let me go," he protests softly, his voice halfhearted, his body still as if he knows I won’t let him go.

Instead of loosening my grip, I hold him tighter, wrapping my arms securely around his waist as I lie sprawled across his lap. He sighs, resigned but indulgent, his fingers threading through my hair in slow, soothing motions.

"It feels like I’m raising two children," he mutters, but I can hear the warmth in his voice, the teasing smile I’ve come to treasure.

I don’t respond, instead burying my face against him, soaking in his scent, his warmth, his presence. This is why I became a monster when he was taken from me—this connection, this quiet intimacy. He is my anchor, my peace, my everything. He is mine. No, I am his.

We stay like this for a few moments, wrapped in a bubble of calm. Just as I think I could stay like this forever, the soft, insistent cries of our daughter pierce the air, shattering the silence.

Noelle shifts beneath me, his hands still gentle as he untangles himself. "Shh, what’s wrong, baby girl?" he murmurs as he moves to pick her up from her cradle. His voice is soft, tender in a way that makes my chest ache.

He cradles her against him, checking her diaper with practiced ease while cooing reassurances. I watch him for a moment, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight of my husband and our daughter. Noelle is breathtaking in these moments—his care, his patience, his love all on full display.

Knowing he has her taken care of, I rise and head to the kitchen. The staff barely glance at me as I pass; they’re accustomed to me preparing my family’s meals myself. Only those we trust explicitly are allowed near anything Mirelle consumes. A guard even stands at the entrance of our private kitchen, a silent barrier ensuring no one unauthorized enters.

I begin preparing Mirelle’s food, mashing fruits and vegetables into a smooth, nutritious puree. Over time, I’ve perfected this routine, determined to give her the best. I’ve also made sure the sentinels know how to prepare her meals—it’s as much a security measure as a practical one.

I can’t help but chuckle at the memory of Raul, a towering, bald warrior, fumbling with a tiny spoon and apron, his fierce scowl deepening as he struggled to mash bananas. And Leona, the assassin who could end a life in the blink of an eye, looking utterly helpless as she tried to measure portions. It was hilarious and endearing, a reminder that even the most hardened of us could soften for Mirelle.

I head upstairs and find my star already a step ahead of me. Mirelle is bundled in a soft towel, her hair damp from a recent bath. He’s humming softly as he pats her dry, his movements efficient yet tender.

"You’re amazing," I say, leaning against the doorframe, unable to keep the admiration out of my voice.

He looks up at me, his expression warm but amused. "Someone has to keep things moving while you’re busy being broody."

I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips as I step inside. Together, we settle down to feed her, a task that’s become both routine and its own little adventure. Mirelle, as always, is fussy about her greens.

"It’s like she knows," Noelle mutters as he tries to sneak a spoonful of mashed vegetables into her mouth.

"She’s your daughter," I counter, smirking. "Stubbornness is clearly inherited."

Noelle raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. Instead, we resort to our usual tricks, spinning elaborate tales and talking animatedly to distract her.

"Did you know, Mimi," I begin, my tone conspiratorial, "that these greens come from a magical forest where fairies dance under the moonlight?" frёeωebɳovel.com

Noelle catches on instantly. "And if you eat them," he adds, his voice full of mock-seriousness, "you’ll grow big and strong, just like Daddy."

She stares at us both with wide, curious eyes, momentarily intrigued. It’s enough for Noelle to sneak in another spoonful.

"Victory!" he declares softly, raising his fist in mock triumph.

I laugh, leaning back in my chair as we continue the performance. Mirelle’s giggles and our shared laughter fill the room, and even though it’s a battle to get her to finish, the moments in between are precious.

By the time the bowl is empty, she’s calmer, her little tummy full. I take her into my arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she nuzzles into my chest.

"She’s fussy," I say quietly, my voice filled with affection.

"She’s perfect," Noelle counters, his tone just as soft.

I glance over at him, my heart swelling as it always does when I see him like this—calm, loving, and radiant.

*

I watch Noelle retreat into the bathroom, the faint sound of water running signaling he’s preparing for a bath. A glance at the crib reassures me—Mimi is fast asleep, her tiny fists curled as she dreams. This is my moment.

Quietly, I tiptoe toward the bathroom, the excitement building with each careful step. The door is slightly ajar, and I peek in to find Noelle standing by the tub, testing the water with his hand while holding a towel draped over his shoulder.

He’s so effortlessly beautiful, even in this mundane moment. I can’t help myself.

I sneak in, closing the distance between us silently, until my body is flush against his back. My arms slip around his waist, holding him close.

"Thorne," he says, his voice low but amused, not even turning to look at me.

"What?" I murmur, my lips grazing the back of his neck as my hands settle firmly on his hips. I press against him, feeling his warmth seep into me.

He sighs, shaking his head, though he doesn’t pull away. "How are you always like this?"

"It’s your fault," I reply, my voice dropping, rough with affection and something deeper. "Walking around being so perfect, it’s impossible to resist you."

He chuckles softly, and I feel his body relax into mine. "And what about Mimi?" he asks, though his resolve is clearly weakening.

"We’ll be quick," I say, turning him slightly so I can see the faint blush rising on his cheeks. "Besides, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind us making an active effort to give her a sibling."

That earns me a laugh, a low and breathy sound that sends a wave of warmth straight to my chest.

"You’re incorrigible," Noelle says, but the sparkle in his eyes tells me he’s not complaining.