Overnight••√•• a foreign omega”

chapitre : 16

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The days following the shaman's exhausting ritual were like a convalescence. Smith rested, nourished by the soothing presence of Day and Julien, and the temporary shield woven around his mind offered a welcome respite. The echoes hadn't disappeared, but they were muffled, like a poorly tuned radio in the next room. He was gradually regaining a semblance of serenity and, with it, a glimmer of rekindled confidence. Perhaps everything would be alright.

To reassure him and reintegrate him into the family fold, Mrs. Croft organized an extended family dinner, gathering a few uncles, aunts, and close cousins. The atmosphere was warm, noisy, and joyful. Smith, sitting next to Day, found himself genuinely laughing at an anecdote from Nam, feeling his parents' pride warm him like a ray of sunshine.

It was then that he met Day's paternal uncle, Martin Croft. A man in his sixties, with a severe face and gnarled hands, who carried the acrid smell of stale tobacco and an undisguised authority. He was an old-school Alpha, respected and feared.

Initially, the conversation was courteous. Then, it naturally drifted towards the wedding.

"So, Smith," said Uncle Martin, scrutinizing him as if examining a horse. "I hear you're not very familiar with our oldest traditions. The 'Bond Dance', for example. Yet it's a cornerstone. It shows the Omega's respectful submission and the Alpha's benevolent strength."

The word "submission" made Smith flinch, but he kept his composure.

"We've chosen an adapted version, Uncle Martin," Smith replied politely. "A choreography that suits us better."

"Adapted?" the old man grumbled. "Traditions aren't 'adapted', young man. They are respected. They are the cement that ensures a couple's longevity. An Alpha-Omega union isn't just a matter of feelings. It's a question of balance, of order. An Omega who doesn't know his place is an Omega who disrupts the balance."

An awkward silence fell over the table. Day stiffened beside Smith.

"The balance of our couple, Uncle, is our business," Day said, his voice calm but firm.

"Of course, of course," Martin retorted without looking at him, his eyes still fixed on Smith. "But an Omega must know how to guide his Alpha on the right path, not lead him astray with modern ideas. I hope you understand the chance you have, Smith. Day is an exceptional match. A purebred Alpha. You... we don't know your lineage well, do we? Your parents were Betas, if I recall correctly. Simple folk."

The implication was clear and brutal. Smith was an inferior match, an unknown with no roots, who also refused to play his traditional role. The wound was so sharp and so deep it stole Smith's breath. Fear, humiliation, and the old feeling of illegitimacy flared up in an instant, threatening to shatter the shaman's fragile barrier. He lowered his head, fists clenched under the table, feeling the family's gazes weighing on him.

"Martin, that's enough," Mr. Croft intervened, his voice brooking no argument.

But it was Nam who, after observing the scene with an increasingly dark expression, stood up.

"Smith, come with me. I need a hand unjamming the garden door, it's stuck again."

It was a flimsy pretext, but a lifesaver. Smith, mortified, stood up and followed Nam like an automaton, avoiding everyone's gaze.

Nam didn't lead him to the garden. He guided him to the garage, away from prying ears. The door slammed shut behind them, and Smith collapsed against a workbench, his body shaking with silent tremors.

"You see?" he whispered, his voice broken. "He's right. I'm not on their level. I don't even know where I come from. I'm an intruder."

"No, Smith," Nam said with unusual gentleness. "You are not an intruder."

He leaned against the workbench next to him, crossing his arms.

"Uncle Martin is an old fool. A respected fool, but a fool nonetheless. He lives in a world that no longer exists. He thinks an Alpha's strength is measured by his Omega's submission. He's wrong."

Nam turned to him, his gaze serious and direct.

"Listen to me, Smith. And listen well, because I'm only going to say this once."

He took a deep breath.

"Family isn't just blood. It's a choice. A choice we renew every day. When you arrived here, lost, different, we could have rejected you. But we didn't. Why? Because we chose to see you as our brother, our son. Because we saw the light you brought, even through your fear."

Smith looked up at him, his eyes drowned in tears.

"But my roots... he said..."

"Your roots?" Nam cut him off. "Your roots, Smith, aren't in the soil or in some dusty family tree. They are here, in this house. In the way my mother laughs again. In the pride I feel when I see you fight. In the way Day finally breathes fully since you've been here. Your roots are the love you give us and that we return. It's the only lineage that matters."

He placed a heavy, comforting hand on Smith's shoulder.

"You think I don't know you're not exactly the Smith who was born here? That something changed? Julien explained it to me. But you know what? I don't care. The man in front of me, the one who is afraid, who doubts, but who has the courage to love my brother and fight for his place... it's you I call my brother. It's you my parents call their son. Not a ghost. Not a shadow. You."

Nam's words, simple, direct, and charged with an undeniable truth, struck Smith right in the heart. It was the confirmation he had been seeking since the beginning. He wasn't accepted despite his secret, but with his secret. His worth wasn't in his past, but in his present.

"That balance Martin speaks of," Nam continued, "it's not yours. The balance between you and Day, I see it. It's the balance of two forces that complement each other, not one dominating the other. Day needs your sensitivity, your different view of the world, as much as you need his strength and stability. That is the true strength of a couple. Not some archaic dance."

Smith wiped his tears, a new light in his eyes. The weight of humiliation was transforming into a cold determination.

"He doesn't see me as legitimate."

"Then prove him wrong," Nam retorted. "Not by bending to his ideas, but by being even more yourself. Be the strong, proud Omega you are. Love my brother the way you love him. And remember: in this family, your place is not negotiable. It's secured. Because we chose it. And so did you."

When they returned to the dining room, Smith walked with his head held high. Uncle Martin shot him a sidelong glance, but Smith gave him a polite, distant smile, without an ounce of fear. He went to sit next to Day and took his hand, feeling the tension in his Alpha's fingers. He whispered in his ear:

"Everything's fine. I'm here."

Day relaxed immediately, sensing not only the words, but the conviction behind them.

Later that evening, as Uncle Martin was preparing to leave, Smith approached him.

"Uncle Martin," he said in a clear voice that carried through the living room. "Thank you for your... advice on the traditions. Day and I have thought about it, and we have indeed decided to create our own 'Bond Dance'. One that will celebrate not submission, but partnership. Equality in difference. I'm sure even millennia-old traditions can need to evolve."

The old man glared at him, but under the approving gaze of Nam and Mr. Croft, he could only grunt a vague acknowledgment before turning on his heel.

That night, going to bed, Smith felt stronger. The encounter with Uncle Martin had been a trial by fire, but it had reforged his confidence. Nam's words echoed within him, more powerful than any doubts. He was not a guest in this family. He was a cornerstone. And no one, not an echo from another world or an old traditionalist Alpha, could steal that certainty from him. He had chosen this family, and this family had chosen him. It was the only root he needed.