My pheromone disorder is a congenital flaw.
That means my lifelong partner can only be a highly compatible Omega or a Beta with no pheromones.
Since I had no partner before, the condition stayed dormant, unnoticed inside me.
It flared up on the night of my wedding with Lin Yuji.
After getting checked at the hospital, I went home and suggested separate rooms to him.
This illness means I can’t even handle a low-match Omega, let alone an Alpha.
I’ve thought about divorce, but with the funds just going into Lin Corp, it wasn’t the time for upheaval.
Plus, having just tied Lin Yuji to me with shameless tactics, I felt too lowly to harbor any improper feelings toward him.
So, the first year of marriage passed without a hitch.
The trouble started in the second year when my symptoms inexplicably worsened.
I’d been searching for the reason with no luck.
After waking up this time, Xu Chen gave me the answer.
Lin Yuji had been disrupting me with his pheromones, which is why my condition flared up.
It suddenly clicked—those weird dreams I had were real.
“You helped him out of kindness, and he nearly killed you,” Xu Chen grumbles beside me. “What kind of person does that?”
I listen in silence.
I can’t fully blame him—he didn’t know about my condition beforehand.
But right or wrong, there’s no one left to argue with—
Since that day, Lin Yuji’s vanished without a trace.
I asked everyone I could, but no one’s seen him.
20
The day before the Fang family banquet, I call Wen Zhuo.
The phone rings forever before he picks up.
I get straight to it, telling him I can’t pretend to be his partner at the event.
“Uh… okay… sure,” Wen Zhuo’s voice stutters, hoarse and broken.
“Be good.” A commanding male voice cuts in, and the call drops.
I set the phone down, rub my forehead, and decide not to dig into whatever’s going on between Wen Zhuo and Fang Zhiyu.
…
A month later, coming back from a hospital follow-up, I spot Lin Yuji—missing for weeks—at my doorstep.
He grabs my wrist. “Let’s talk.”
Inside, I ask, “Talk about what?”
“How’s your condition?” His eyes are dull. “I’m sorry—I didn’t know you were sick. Can you forgive me?”
“It’s stabilized,” I say, looking down. “I didn’t tell you about it beforehand, so it’s not all your fault.”
“Then you…” His eyes light up.
“But you’re right—two Alphas shouldn’t defy nature to be together,” I cut him off. “Since you’re back, just sign the divorce papers.”
“I didn’t mean it—I was just mad and lashing out. I never wanted to split from you,” he says urgently.
“But it’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“You can’t do this to me.” His eyes redden, voice trembling. “You can’t abandon me.”
I stay quiet.
As long as this illness lingers, we can never truly love each other.
Better to cut it off clean now.
Tears fall, and he wipes them away.
Following his motion, I notice a white bandage wrapped around his neck.
“Why the bandage?” I reach to touch it.
Lin Yuji jolts, stepping back, but his tone shifts to a calm honesty. “Oh, just had a gland removed.”
Those words hit me like thunder, sending a shiver down my spine. “Why?”
“Why would you do that?!”
Was it to be with me?
Such a huge sacrifice, just to be with me.
That’s when it dawns on me—
his feelings for me.
Lin Yuji, though, acts like it’s nothing, awkwardly changing the subject. “Can we not divorce?”
“Yeah.”
Clearly caught off guard by my agreement, he blinks. “It’s not because I removed my gland, right?”
“It’s my own choice—you don’t have to take responsibility.”
“If you’re still mad, don’t force yourself to agree.”
Lin Yuji, uncharacteristically, rambles on.
I laugh through my tears. “No.”
It’s not because he removed his gland that I agree to stay—it’s because he loves me, so I do too.
“Because I love you.”
Those three words, carried from my youth, finally spill from my lips now.
“You… I…” Lin Yuji stammers, unsure where to start.
The ever-composed him now looks like a shy, lovesick teen, pitifully seeking confirmation. “You’re not messing with me, right?”
The tables turn—the one in control becomes the one pleading.
I give a firm yes, and he lights up, unable to contain his joy.