Reborn Omega; I Refuse To Be Your Substitute

"You still think dressing up will make my son look at you?" Esme froze. She hadn't even noticed when Regina walked into the room. The older woman stood at the doorway, arms folded, her sharp eyes sweeping over Esme from head to toe. Esme slowly lowered her hands from her dress. "I… I just wanted to look presentable," she said quietly. Regina let out a dry laugh. "Presentable? For who? My son?" She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor. "After all these years, you still haven't accepted your place." Esme swallowed. "I wasn't trying to….." "You still think you can keep a man with looks?" "I wasn't trying to…." "How dare you talk back at me. You're finally showing your true face, aren't you?" The slap came before she finished. Her head snapped to the side, the sound echoing in the quiet room. A burning sting spread across her cheek, and for a second, her vision blurred. "Don't talk back to me," Regina said coldly. "You should be gratefully we even let you stay in this house." Esme pressed her lips together, tasting salt as tears gathered in her eyes. She kept her gaze lowered, like she had learned to do. "You're here because you gave birth. That's it," Regina continued, circling her slowly. "Don't ever think you're more than that." "I understand…" Esme whispered. Regina studied her for a moment, as if hoping to see some resistance. There was none. She clicked her tongue in disgust. "Pathetic." The door slammed behind her as she left. Silence filled the room. Esme stayed where she was, her cheek throbbing. Slowly, she raised her hand and touched the spot where Regina had hit her. "…It's okay," she murmured to herself, even though it didn't feel okay at all. She turned back to the mirror. The woman staring back at her looked small, tired, not like a Luna, not like someone who belonged in a powerful pack. But today was different. Today was her birthday. "…Maybe he'll come home early," she whispered, trying to convince herself. --- The kitchen smelled warm and familiar, and that was the only reason Esme didn't feel like crying. She moved quietly between the counter and the table, placing dishes one after another. She had cooked everything herself, his favorite meals, Noah's favorite snacks, even a small cake she had struggled to bake without ruining it. It wasn't perfect. The frosting was uneven, and one side leaned slightly, but she still placed it carefully in the center of the table. "…Happy birthday," she said under her breath, almost embarrassed by the words. Her wolf stirred faintly inside her, a soft presence that brushed against her thoughts. It didn't speak, but she felt its sadness, its quiet comfort. Esme glanced at the clock. 7:08 PM. "He should be home soon…" she murmured. She wiped her hands on her apron and sat down, folding her fingers together to stop them from trembling. 7:32 PM. The food had stopped steaming. Esme checked her phone again. No messages. No missed calls. She hesitated before tapping on his contact. It rang once, twice, then the call ended. She stared at the screen for a moment before lowering the phone slowly. "…He's busy," she whispered, even though her chest felt tight. "Mom." Esme looked up quickly. Noah stood at the doorway, holding his toy car. His hair was messy, his expression blank. Her face softened instantly. "Noah, come here." He walked in slowly but didn't move any closer than the edge of the table. Esme forced a smile. "Do you know what today is?" He shook his head. "It's my birthday," she said gently. "Oh." That was all he said. Just a small, careless "oh." Her smile faltered, but she kept it in place. "Do you want to sit with me? I made your favorite." "I already ate," he replied. Esme blinked. "You… ate?" He nodded. "Dad took me out." Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table. "…Oh. I see." She tried to sound normal. "Where did you go?" Noah shrugged. "A restaurant with big glass windows." Her heart skipped. "Were you alone with Dad?" she asked softly. "No," he said without thinking. "The pretty aunty was there too." Esme's breath caught. "…Aunty?" "Yeah," Noah said, smiling a little. "She's really nice. She bought me ice cream." The room suddenly felt too small. "When was this?" Esme asked, her voice barely steady. "Today," he replied casually. "We were with her before coming back." Something inside Esme cracked quietly. "I like her," Noah added, swinging his toy car in his hand. "She's better than…." He stopped suddenly, covering his mouth. "Better than who?" Esme asked, her voice shaking despite her effort to keep it calm. Noah shook his head quickly. "Nothing. Dad said I shouldn't say." Then he turned and ran out of the room, leaving her alone with the untouched food and the crooked cake. Esme stared at the table, her vision blurring. Her chest hurt, not a sharp pain, but a slow, crushing ache that spread through her body. The frosting had started to melt slightly under the warm kitchen light. One side had sunk lower than the other. "…It's nothing," she whispered. "Maybe I'm just thinking too much…." But her hands were already moving. She grabbed her phone and dialed another number. The Beta answered on the third ring. "Madam?" "Where is he?" Esme asked quietly. A pause. "Alpha is busy." "I know," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I just want to know where." "…Madam, it's not my place to….." "I'm his wife," she interrupted, surprising even herself. "Please." The line went silent for a few seconds. "…He's at The Glass House," the Beta finally admitted. Esme closed her eyes. "Thank you." --- The restaurant was beautiful. Warm lights hung from the ceiling, and soft music drifted through the air. Couples laughed at nearby tables, waiters moved gracefully between them, carrying trays of wine and food. It was the kind of place Esme had never been invited to. She stood at the entrance, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag so tightly they hurt. "…Maybe I'm wrong," she whispered. But her feet carried her forward anyway. Her eyes scanned the room slowly. Then she saw him. Draven sat near the window, relaxed, smiling in a way she hadn't seen in years. He looked happy. And he wasn't alone. A woman sat beside him, not across from him, beside him. Their shoulders almost touched. The woman's long hair fell over one side of her face as she laughed at something Draven said. Then Draven picked up a piece of food with his fork and held it to the woman's lips. She opened her mouth and took it, smiling, like it was normal, like they had done it a hundred times before. Esme's breath caught in her throat. Draven chuckled softly and reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from the woman's cheek. His fingers lingered there, gentle, intimate. He had never touched Esme like that. Not even once. Then Draven leaned closer. The woman tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a shy smile. And then he kissed her. Not a quick, careless peck, a slow, deliberate kiss, the kind meant to be seen, meant to be felt. The restaurant lights glowed warmly around them as if nothing was wrong, as if the world hadn't just shattered. Esme's heart slammed painfully against her ribs. Her body refused to move, her feet felt rooted to the ground as she watched her husband, the man she had cooked for, waited for, believed in, hold another woman's face so gently as he deepened the kiss. A few nearby diners glanced over and smiled, assuming they were just another loving couple. No one noticed the woman standing near the entrance, trembling like she might collapse at any second. When Draven finally pulled away, the woman rested her forehead against his shoulder, her cheeks flushed. He chuckled softly and brushed his thumb across her lips, wiping away a smear of sauce. "…You're adorable," he murmured. Esme heard every word. Her chest tightened so painfully she thought she might stop breathing right there. And for the first time in her life, Esme understood that she had never been a wife. She had only ever been a replacement.