Chapter Text
After Pond’s phone call to the dissolution clinic had thwarted his plans, Phuwin had packed a small bag (containing mostly Pond’s hoodies, a fact his conscious mind refused to acknowledge) the next morning and fled to the one place he felt he would be truly understood: his parents' house.
He burst through their door, his scent a torrent of jasmine, milk, and sheer, unadulterated outrage. "Mae! Por! I'm home!"
His beta father looked up from his tablet, his calm, earthy scent a stark contrast to Phuwin’s tempest, though inside his chest, his heart was pounding. "Phuwin? What's wrong? Is everything alright with the baby?" Then, in a cautious tone, Phuwin's father tried to ask, "You canceled your visit to the dissolution clinic, right?"
"Cancel? No, but Pond said the clinic was closed. I couldn't stand being with him any longer, so I decided to go home." Phuwin declared, throwing his bag on the floor and collapsing onto the sofa with the flourish of a Shakespearean actor. "I can't live with him anymore. It's over."
His omega mother came rushing out of the kitchen, her hands dusted with flour, her own jasmine scent blooming with immediate concern. "What happened, my love? Did you two have a fight?"
Phuwin took a deep, shuddering breath, preparing to deliver the final, irrefutable evidence of Pond’s unsuitability as a mate. "He breathed too loudly this morning."
The silence that followed was profound.
His dad lowered his tablet slowly, his brow furrowed in deep confusion. "...son… what?"
"Too loudly!" Phuwin insisted, his voice rising in pitch. "It was all… raspy and alphaish. It was a fundamental disrespect of my mental space."
His mother let out a soft, sympathetic whimper. Her omega nature understood the feeling of sensory overload, of every little thing feeling like a personal assault when your hormones were raging. She sat beside him and pulled him into a hug. "Oh, darling. That sounds… very aggravating."
"It was!" Phuwin wailed, burying his face in her shoulder. "It's the final straw. We are divorcing. I've decided. And I want full custody."
His father, the voice of beta reason in a house of omegas, finally found his words. "Custody?" he asked, utterly baffled. "Of who? The… the fetus?"
"Yes!" Phuwin sobbed, his logic completely untethered from reality. "He doesn't deserve our tiny child. He breathes with malice."
His mother rocked him gently, cooing softly. "There, there. We'll figure it out. Mae is here." She shot her husband a look that clearly said, don't you dare contradict him right now.
Phuwin’s father simply shook his head, picked up his tablet again, and decided that this was a storm he was uniquely unqualified to weather. He felt profoundly sorry for the patient, handsome alpha his son had left behind.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐾 🐻🐼 🐾𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ
In the afternoon, Pond's mother arrived at Pond and Phuwin's apartment door, looking as if she were preparing for a siege, a natural disaster, or both.
She swept in, her usual gentle omega scent sharpened with maternal anxiety. In her arms, she carried a bizarre arsenal of comfort: a stick of sandalwood incense already smoldering in a small holder, a thermos of herbal tea known for its calming properties, a giant, impossibly soft blanket, and a bag containing no less than seven different kinds of snacks, from savory crackers to sweet mango sticky rice. Tawin trailed behind her, looking deeply inconvenienced, his beta scent a neutral backdrop to the swirling emotions.
She took in the scene. Pond was sitting alone at the dining table, staring blankly. The air in the apartment was thick and heavy. Phuwin’s jasmine milk scent was laced with a bitter, hurt confusion, and Pond’s own cedar and rain was muted, weighed down by a profound, weary sadness.
It was the scent of a relationship in crisis.
"Pond, where’s Phuwin?" his mother asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Pond answered tonelessly, as if his soul had left his body. "He's gone home to his parents."
Tawin and Pond's mother exchanged glances.
"P’Pond," Tawin said, his eyes wide as he scanned the room for signs of a struggle. "Blink twice if you're in danger. Did you… did you do something? Something bad?"
They were all thinking it. An omega doesn't just demand a separation for no reason. In their world, this level of distress usually meant one thing: a profound betrayal by the alpha.
"Son," Pond's mother began, her voice gentle but firm as she set her burdens down on the coffee table. "You can tell us. Whatever it is. Did you… were you unfaithful? Did you… hurt him?"
Pond looked up, the absurdity of the past few days crashing down on him. He let out a short, hollow laugh that had no humor in it. "Hurt him? Mae, I just… I cut an apple."
The room went silent. The only sound was the faint sizzle of the incense.
Tawin blinked. "You… what?"
"An apple," Pond repeated, his voice flat. "He wanted thin slices. I cut thick ones.”
Pond's mother frowned. "You mean the one Phuwin told me about?"
Pond nodded. "Yes, Mae. That incident. And now our mating is apparently built on a foundation of lies and culinary incompetence."
A collective, stunned gasp filled the room. His mother’s hands flew to her mouth. Tawin stared, his mouth agape, before he slowly sank onto the couch as if his legs could no longer support him.
"The apple," their mother whispered, her eyes wide with a dawning, horrific understanding. She looked from the core on the table to her eldest son’s exhausted face. This was not a crime of passion or infidelity. This was far, far more terrifying.
This was the Pregnancy Brain.
"Oh, my poor boy," she murmured, her demeanor shifting from accusatory to deeply sympathetic. She rushed to Pond’s side, wrapping him in a hug that smelled of home and lavender. "You're in the thick of it."
Tawin, recovering from his shock, let out a low whistle. "Wow. And I thought my ex was high maintenance for wanting specific emojis in texts. Phi, you have my deepest, most sincere condolences."
Pond just leaned into his mother's hug, taking a small, shaky comfort. If his own family, who adored Phuwin, had immediately assumed the worst of him, how was he supposed to navigate the treacherous waters of his omega’s hormone warped logic? The "Apple Incident" was a symbol of the immense, lonely battlefield he was now standing on.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐾 🐻🐼 🐾𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ
The situation could not stand. A summit was called.
Two days later, both families convened in Pond and Phuwin’s apartment. Phuwin arrived with his parents, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his lips pushed out in a spectacular pout. His jasmine milk scent was defensive and spiky, warning everyone to keep their distance.
He pointedly did not look at Pond.
Pond, who had spent the last three days sleeping on the couch because he couldn't stand the silence in the bedroom without Phuwin, arrived shortly after. He had gone out for a while after his mother and Tawin came in early this morning, returning carrying a massive, beautiful bouquet of white orchids and Phuwin’s favorite pink roses. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, but his cedar and rain scent, while weary, was still gentle and unwavering. He had done nothing wrong, yet he carried the flowers like a standard of apology.
The moment everyone was seated, Phuwin launched his opening salvo. "I'm done," he announced to the assembled family, his voice firm. "This relationship has no future. We are incompatible on every level."
Pond, setting the flowers carefully on the table, looked at him with heartbreaking softness. "You said you loved me a week ago, Phuwin. When I brought you the mangoes you wanted."
Phuwin’s brow furrowed. He looked genuinely, bafflingly confused. The hormonal fog had erased the memory entirely. "Did I?" he asked, his voice laced with sincere skepticism. "That doesn't sound like something I would say. I'm divorcing you."
The parents watched this exchange with a mixture of horror and dawning comprehension. Pond’s mother looked at Phuwin’s mother, and a silent understanding passed between them. They had been through their own versions of this, albeit perhaps less dramatic. This was a medical, hormonal, temporary insanity.
"Phuwin, darling," Pond's mother began gently. "Perhaps you should stay. Let Pond take care of you. Here is your nest."
"But he breathes!" Phuwin protested, as if this were a newly discovered character flaw.
"Son," Phuwin’s father said, his voice kind but firm. "We love you. But you need your nest and your alpha."
The united front of the families was a powerful thing. Phuwin, surrounded by a circle of loving but implacable faces, felt his defiant pout waver. He was outnumbered. But he was not yet outmaneuvered. Phuwin switched tactics. He drew himself up, channeling his inner drama queen to its fullest potential. "Fine. If you all insist on taking his side, I'm going to Chiang Mai for the remainder of the pregnancy. I need to calm down from the people who don't stand up for me. And I will give birth there. Alone."
This statement was met with universal, immediate panic.
"Absolutely not!" Phuwin's father said, his usually calm voice now rose for the first time.
"Phuwin, you can't be serious," his own mother’s scent spiking with fear.
"It's too dangerous," Pond's mother added, wringing her hands. "You know the rules."
It was a fundamental tenet of their biology and culture. During labor and birth, an omega's body, especially male omegas, went through extreme physiological and hormonal shifts. The temporary womb and birth canal, which had developed to sustain the pregnancy, required the stabilizing, calming scent of the alpha, especially the bonded one, to function safely. The mate's scent acted as a biological anchor, regulating the omega's heartbeat, easing the pain, and preventing complications. A birth without the alpha present was possible but considered high risk, a last resort only in the most tragic of circumstances. Midwives routinely warned couples: "Without the mated alpha's scent, the birth will be more dangerous, more painful, and longer. It is a needless risk."
Pond felt a cold dread grip his heart at the very idea. The thought of Phuwin in pain, in danger, and purposefully denying himself the one thing that could make it easier, his alpha's comfort, was unbearable. "Phuwin, please," he said, his voice raw. "You can be angry at me forever. Hate me if you must. But don't put yourself and our baby in danger because of it. Let me be there for the birth. That's all I ask."
The sheer, unselfish plea cut through Phuwin’s hormonal fortress. The deep seated omega instinct for safety, for the well being of the cub, warred with his pregnancy addled emotions. The idea of facing the terrifying, painful process of birth alone without Pond’s strong, calming presence, without his scent wrapping around him like a shield, was genuinely frightening.
He deflated, his shoulders slumping. "…Fine," he muttered, looking at the floor. "You can… be there. For the baby's sake."
But then he lifted his chin, a last spark of stubbornness in his eyes. "But I still want a divorce."
A collective, weary sigh moved through the room. They had won the battle, but the war was still raging.
The family summit disbanded in the late afternoon, leaving Pond and Phuwin alone in the tense silence of their apartment. The flowers on the table seemed to mock Pond with their fragile beauty. He was exhausted down to his bones. Days of walking on eggshells, of having his love rejected for crimes he didn't understand, of fighting a ghost that wore his mate's face, had drained him.
He looked at Phuwin, who was standing by the window, his profile silhouetted against the city lights. He was so beautiful, even now, especially now, with the soft curve of their child cradled in his belly. And Pond loved him with a ferocity that was starting to ache.
He had tried logic. He had tried patience. He had tried appeasement. Nothing worked. So, he decided to try the one thing he had been fighting against: surrender.
He walked over to Phuwin, not too close, giving him space. Phuwin tensed but didn't move away.
"Phuwin," Pond said, his voice quiet, stripped bare of all pretense. It was just a man, talking to the love of his life. "I'm tired. And I know you're tired, too."
Phuwin remained silent, but his scent shifted, the spiky defensiveness softening into something more uncertain.
"I have fought for us every day since you first told me you didn't love me," Pond continued. "I have tried to be the alpha you need. But I can't fight a war against your own feelings. So… okay."
That got Phuwin's attention. He turned his head slightly, his eyes wary. "Okay… what?"
"Okay," Pond said, his heart breaking with every word. "If you truly want out… if this is what you really, truly want… then we'll talk about it. Seriously. After the baby is born, and your body and mind have had time to settle. I won't trap you. I won't force you to stay in a mating that makes you unhappy."
He took a shaky breath, his own cedar and rain scent swirling with the pain of this concession. "My only condition, the only thing I will ever demand, is that you let me be there for the birth. To keep you and our baby safe. After that… you decide. If you want me to leave, I'll leave. If you want the bond dissolved… we'll talk about it. The decision will be yours."
He finished, his hands hanging limply at his sides. He had laid down all his weapons. He had given up all control. He was placing his heart, his future, his entire world, into the hands of his hormonally chaotic, emotionally volatile, deeply loved omega.
Phuwin froze. The petulant pout vanished from his lips. His dramatic arguments about apples and breathing evaporated from his mind. All that was left was the stark, shocking reality of Pond's words. This man, this kind, patient, handsome alpha who he had claimed to stop loving, was offering him his freedom. He was willing to let Phuwin go, to shatter their perfect life, simply because Phuwin had asked for it. A devastating, self sacrificing love.
Pond’s kindness, his final, gentle surrender, hit Phuwin’s emotional omega brain like a physical blow. The hormonal fog shifted, and a sliver of the real Phuwin Tangsakyuen, the one who adored Pond Naravit Lertratkosum beyond all reason, peeked through. He didn't say a word. He just stood there, staring at Pond, his eyes wide and shimmering with a confusion that was suddenly, terrifyingly, starting to feel a lot like regret.