Late autumn rain tapped against the floor-to-ceiling windows, its chill seeping into the room and blurring the dazzling city lights outside.
Emma cradled a glass of whiskey, lounging in a leather armchair, her gaze drifting aimlessly across the pristine living room. The air was laced with the familiar scent of white tea and iris—Gu Liang's signature fragrance. It had lingered in their shared space for three years, a quiet constant. But tonight, it felt suffocating.
She was tired of it.
That feeling had crept in like ivy, winding around her unnoticed. What once stirred her heart—Gu Liang's quiet demeanor, his gentleness, his ethereal detachment—now felt monotonous and dull. Their life had become a worn-out record, looping the same notes until even perfection felt exhausting. Work. Dinner. Occasional sex. A movie on weekends. Day after day, nothing new.
She was whiskey and cedarwood—craving fire and risk, not drowning in lukewarm tea.
"What are you looking at?" Gu Liang's voice came from behind, soft and clear.
Emma didn't turn around. She simply tilted her head back and took a sip, letting the burn trail from her throat to her stomach. "Nothing. Just zoning out."
Gu Liang walked over, the faint steam from his shower mingling with his clean white tea pheromones. He reached out to smooth a stray lock of her hair, the gesture natural, intimate.
Emma instinctively turned her head away.
The air froze. His hand paused midair, fingers curling slightly before retreating. His deep eyes lingered on her, a flicker of hurt barely visible.
"Tired?" he asked gently, his tone unchanged.
"Mm." Emma set down her glass and stood, putting distance between them. "Big project at work. Been busy." A perfect excuse—one she'd used so often, she almost believed it herself.
Gu Liang said nothing, just looked at her quietly. His gaze was like moonlight—cool, but able to reach the darkest corners of the heart. Emma tugged at her collar, irritated by the omnipresent scent that seemed to seep into her skin.
"I'll be in the study. You go ahead and sleep." She fled, shutting herself inside.
The study was saturated with her own cedarwood whiskey pheromones. She inhaled deeply, trying to purge Gu Liang's lingering scent from her nose. She opened her laptop, the screen's glow flickering across her face.
Break up. The word had circled in her mind for a month. Now, it was crystal clear.
She just hadn't found the right moment. After all, Gu Liang had done nothing wrong. After three years, she needed a "reasonable" excuse to end a relationship that felt like a cage.
Her phone lit up—a party invite from a friend. The city's hottest bar. The message read: "Tons of new, gorgeous Omegas. Their pheromones are wild. Come play?"
Emma's lips curled into a faint, disinterested smile. In the past, she might've gone, chasing the thrill of flirtation. But now, even that didn't tempt her. Her apathy toward Gu Liang seemed to have infected everything else.
This all-encompassing fatigue only solidified her decision.
She lingered in the study until late, waiting until Gu Liang was likely asleep before tiptoeing back to the bedroom.
Gu Liang lay on his side, breathing steady. Moonlight slipped through the curtains, casting a soft glow on his peaceful face. He was beautiful—features like a painting, skin pale and smooth. With his eyes closed, the usual coolness faded, leaving him fragile and gentle.
Emma's heart stirred, a brief wave of guilt and tenderness washing over her. But it was quickly drowned by a stronger urge to escape.
She lay beside him, deliberately keeping her distance. Yet deep within, a familiar heat began to rise.
Damn it. She cursed silently.
Her heat was approaching.
An Alpha's heat made her sensitive, vulnerable, her desire to possess and mark intensifying. In the past, she'd always relied on Gu Liang—his pheromones were the only balm that soothed her.
But this time, she felt only fear. In this state, she'd crave him more, want to mark him again. It clashed violently with her plan to leave.
She forced herself to turn away, ignoring the growing ache and the increasingly seductive scent of white tea.
That night, Emma slept fitfully. Her dreams were chaotic—Gu Liang's sorrowful eyes, the bar's noisy crowd, unfamiliar pheromones. In the end, everything shattered, leaving only the lingering scent of white tea, wrapping around her, inescapable.
—
The next morning, Emma woke with a headache like a hangover. The bed beside her was empty. Gu Liang always rose earlier, preparing breakfast.
She stepped out. On the table: warm milk, a perfectly fried sunny-side-up egg, and her favorite croissant. Gu Liang, apron tied, was busy in the kitchen, his back straight and slender.
"You're up? Headache?" He turned and smiled, as if last night's awkwardness had never happened. "I made honey water."
Emma murmured a vague response and sat down to eat. The food was delicious, but she tasted none of it.
"Will you be home on time tonight?" Gu Liang asked softly, sitting across from her. "I bought fresh ribs. Thought I'd make sweet and sour—your favorite."
His eyes held a quiet hope.
Emma's hand paused mid-air. She knew this was his way of mending things—gentle, unobtrusive. Once, she would've accepted gladly. But now…
"Can't tonight." She set down her fork, her voice stiff. "Client dinner. Important. Might be late."
The light in Gu Liang's eyes dimmed visibly. He lowered his gaze, long lashes casting shadows. "Okay. Just… take care. Don't drink too much."
His calm and consideration stabbed at her. She felt a sudden anger—at his passivity, his endless patience, his refusal to question her.
She stood abruptly. "I'm done. Heading to work."
She fled the cozy breakfast scene. In the elevator, staring at her blurred reflection in the metal walls, one thought crystallized:
She had to end it. Before her heat arrived. No more delays.
—
What she didn't know was that after she left, Gu Liang remained at the table, staring at the untouched breakfast across from him. His eyes slowly turned hollow and cold.
He raised a hand, gently touching the gland at the back of his neck—where Emma had marked him, again and again. The scent of cedar whiskey still lingered. But now, it brought no comfort. Only a chill that seeped into his bones.
He wasn't a fool. He'd felt her growing distance, her excuses, the impatience in her eyes.
He'd just been giving them one last chance.
But now, he saw the answer clearly.
He unlocked his phone. A hidden album appeared. His finger hovered over it for a long time, but he didn't open it.
Instead, he stood and quietly began clearing the dishes. The sound of running water masked a barely audible sigh.
Some things, once broken, can never be pieced back together. If she was determined to leave, then he… wouldn't let her go so easily.
The game had only just begun.