Fallen General's Omega (BL)-Chapter 238: Coming with

"Noelle."

The second the word leaves his lips, alarm bells ring in my head.

Not my star. Noelle.

I sit up in bed immediately, my body tensing as I narrow my eyes at him.

"No."

My rejection is immediate. He chuckles. Chuckles.

"You haven’t even heard my request yet," he says, his voice smooth and coaxing, as if he isn’t already planning something that’s going to piss me off.

He shifts, sitting up too, and the sheet slides down his body, revealing far too much golden skin for this early in the morning.

And just like that—

I want to jump him again.

I also want to punch him.

I also just want him to hold me.

It’s a confusing state of being.

I scowl, determined to keep my rage intact. "No."

Thorne sighs dramatically, but there’s amusement in his eyes. "May I leave—"

"What??!!" I cut him off before he can even finish.

"Just for a couple of days," he clarifies quickly, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "I swear."

My stomach twists. My instincts react violently to the idea of him leaving.

"Why would you want to fucking leave?" My voice is sharp, edged with something dangerously close to fear.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead, he looks at me—really looks at me—and something in his expression shifts.

"Listen," he says, softer now, more careful. "It’s just for a couple of days."

I want to argue, to demand a better explanation, but something in his tone makes me stop.It’s not just some random errand.

There’s something else here.

"Was your ’every step of the way’ a lie then?" The words slip out before I can stop them, my throat suddenly tight, my chest aching.

His expression immediately changes.

"No—Noelle, of course not," he says quickly.

"Then what’s so important that you’re leaving me?" I demand, feeling something hot and awful burn in my chest. "You’re leaving me."

His lips press together for a moment, like he’s weighing something carefully.

Then, finally—

"I’m going to see an island," he says.

...

What.

I blink, processing that utterly useless answer.

"What’s there?" I ask, baffled.

He shrugs. "Well... nothing."

I gape at him. "So, you want to leave your pregnant omega mate and husband behind to visit an empty island? What’s so special about it?"

He scratches his cheek, looking strangely sheepish.

"Well... that’s the thing," he admits, voice lower now. "I want to build our home there."

I stare at him.

He looks embarrassed.

And it’s so unexpectedly cute that I almost forget to be mad at him.

Almost.

"Go on," I say, crossing my arms.

Instead of explaining, he completely changes the subject.

"Why don’t you plant anything?" he asks suddenly.

The abrupt shift makes me blink in confusion. "What?"

"You love planting," he reminds me. "You told me once that it makes you feel closer to your mom. You used to do it all the time." ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

I stare at him, caught off guard. I don’t respond.

And he doesn’t push.

Instead, he presses on, gently.

"When was the last time you recorded a new entry in your journal?"

That stings more than I expect.

My journal. The one where I used to track every new sprout, every bloom, every small thing that made me feel closer to the person I lost.

I glare at him.

"Of course, I can’t," I mutter, folding my arms tighter around myself. "It’s not my garden."

Thorne hums in understanding, then leans back against the pillows, stretching out like a lazy cat.

"Exactly," he murmurs.

I glance at him, frowning. "What does that mean?"

His blue eyes are softer when they meet mine.

"I haven’t done the best job of being your mate," he admits after a moment. "One of the most basic instincts of an alpha is to provide a safe place for his omega, a real home, and I haven’t done that."

I open my mouth to argue, but he shakes his head.

"I don’t wish for the twins to be born here, in Remiro," he says.

I fall silent.

"It’s not the same," he continues. "They’ve been kind to us, but it’s not ours. It’s not like—"

"Seraphina’s Heart or the little hilltop house," I whisper.

Thorne nods.

The hidden sanctuary where we once lived. Where we found each other, where we built something that felt like a real home, if only for a short while.

I get it. I do.

Which is why—

"I’m coming with," I say, sitting up and looking down at him.

He blinks, caught completely off guard.

"...Huh?"

"I’m coming with you to see this place," I repeat, tapping his chest lightly.

He stares at me, then frowns. "My star—"

"I’m not fragile," I cut him off. "And I’m not staying behind while you go off and plan our future alone."

He groans, running a hand through his hair. "You’re pregnant."

"I’m not sick," I counter. "And I want to see it."

He exhales, watching me closely. I can see the conflict warring in his expression, the protective instinct battling against his understanding of who I am.

"You’re pregnant, Noelle."

Thorne’s voice is patient, firm—the voice of a man who thinks he’s being reasonable.

"You’re not fit for traveling a long distance in a carriage."

As if that is going to change my mind, crossing my arms, tilting my chin up.

"I’m coming with. I dare you to stop me."

The finality in my tone leaves no room for argument.

Thorne exhales heavily, sinking further into the mattress, closing his eyes like a man who has already admitted defeat.

I smirk.

Victory. I don’t why he even tries.

With him lying there, broad chest exposed, the sheets barely covering the defined cut of his waist—well, it’s only natural that my gaze lingers.

Masculine perfection.

My husband. So why not?

I inch closer, trailing my fingertip slowly down the sculpted lines of his torso, tracing along the dips of muscle, following the teasing path of his V-line.

"Really?"

Thorne’s voice is laced with amusement, his blue eyes watching me with curiosity as he shifts, making himself comfortable in bed. He props himself up on one arm, tilting his head slightly, clearly trying to see what I’m up to.

"Yeah," I say casually, scooting closer on the bed. "I haven’t had breakfast yet."