Chapter Text
growing up with four alpha sisters, shane knew nothing but spoiled treatment. from the day he was out of yuna’s womb to the very present day, his whole family doted on him as the youngest, and surprisingly only omega. but that never shifted his place among them, never made him smaller or lesser in any quiet, insidious way people often expected. if anything, it made him softer in the ways that mattered, more attentive, more deliberate with his love, and his sisters made it their life’s mission to ensure that no one, inside their home or beyond it, would ever make him feel otherwise.
yuna and david had worried, of course. it was impossible not to. the world was not kind to omegas, and it was even less kind when they stepped into spaces that had long decided they did not belong there. hockey was unfortunately one of those spaces, carved sharp with expectation and ego and something unspoken but understood. and yet, the moment five-year-old shane had stood infront of the big screen showcasing a game, small and certain, and said he wanted to skate, wanted to play, there had been no real debate in the end.
he was enrolled almost immediately.
lara and stacy, being the oldest sisters, had protested at first, their worry loud and stubborn, the kind that came from loving too much and knowing too well how easily that love could be hurt.
“he’s going to get hit,” lara had said, arms crossed, jaw tight in a way that made her look older than she was.
“he’s too small,” stacy added, as if that alone should have ended the conversation.
but shane had only stood there, eyes slightly averted, fingers twitching faintly at his sides, already imagining the ice, the glide, the quiet of it compared to everything else. because once he started, once he stepped onto the ice and something in him settled instead of scattered, it became obvious very quickly that whatever the world thought he couldn’t do did not matter nearly as much as what he could.
their protectiveness never faded, though. it simply… adapted over the years.
it existed in the way they hovered without hovering, watched without making it obvious, interfered only when they thought they had to, which, admittedly, was often.
julie, especially, had always been closest to him. the small age gap between them meant she understood him in a way the others sometimes struggled to, not because they loved him less, but because she had grown alongside him instead of ahead of him. she was bright where he was quiet, expressive where he was restrained, dramatic in a way that filled spaces he often left untouched. she loved loudly, laughed easily, and fought for him like it was second nature. shane was always grateful for her.
if shane wanted something the others refused, it was always julie he went to, standing just slightly behind her shoulder while she argued his case like a lawyer who had already decided she was going to win. the only difference from when they were younger was that shane was much taller than all four of them, but it didn’t matter anyway. shane was always their baby omega.
which was why, when it came to ilya, even julie’s disapproval had felt… inevitable.
because everyone knew ilya.
not personally, not in any way that mattered, but his name carried its own reputation, something careless and sharp-edged, built on rumours that had spread so widely they barely needed confirmation anymore. a hockey player who never stayed in one place or one person too long, who had an omega, a beta, sometimes even an alpha in every city, who treated relationships like temporary things, like something to pass through rather than hold onto.
and shane had known that.
he had known exactly what their reaction would be.
he had still pressed send anyway.
lara said no
shane
I’m dating someone.
the reply came faster than he expected.
holly
what
stacy
no fucking way
julie
wait HUH
lara
who
there was a brief pause.
shane
His name is Ilya.
Rozanov.
he hesitated, just slightly, before adding the next part, because it mattered, because it was the most accurate way to say it.
shane
I love him.
the silence that followed was different this time.
then,
stacy
holy fuck does mum know????
shane blinked, his brows drawing together faintly at the urgency, not quite understanding why that was the first concern.
shane
Yes.
We had lunch.
holly
we as in who
WE AS IN WHO SHANE
julie
you told mum and dad before us???
lara
that is not the problem here
holly
okay so only i didnt know our baby brother liked guys?????
cool i get it ok
julie
thats what ur focusing on right now????
stacy
who gives a fuck about that HELLO HE SAID ILYA
there it was. shane’s fingers stilled slightly against his phone, his gaze lingering on the name.
lara
ilya rozanov
as in ur rival from boston
shane
Yes.
But, he’s not my rival.
He’s my boyfriend.
the typing bubble appeared. disappeared. appeared again.
when lara finally replied, it was slower than the others, more deliberate.
lara
no
shane stared at that for a moment, head tilting slightly. he knew it was coming.
shane
No what.
lara
no as in no
stacy
yeah im w lara on this one
holly
absolutely not
im surprised we even have to say it
julie
am i the only one betrayed?!!?!
shane
I am almost 23 years old.
I wasn’t asking, I am telling you guys.
julie
oh hes serious
stacy
okay so we just skipping past the part where we address that ilya is literally a walking red flag
how fun
shane
Why would he carry red flags when he walks?
stacy
im so mad i cant even find u cute right now
holly
no my shane no he is not the one
lara
he has a reputation, shane
shane
I know.
stacy
and you still decided this was good idea?
u still love him???????????
shane
Yes. Very much.
holly
im going to be FUCKING SICK
stacy
im gonna kill rozanov
im serious
lara
you are stupid if you think dating him is a smart choice
shane’s fingers moved before he could think too much about it.
shane
Stop exaggerating. You are not killing anyone.
And I am not stupid. My decision to be with him is not stupid either.
It’s my decision.
the bluntness of it hung there, unmoving, immovable.
because that was the thing about shane. once he decided something, once it settled into place inside him, it did not shift easily.
holly
i feel like im watching a car crash happen in slow motion
stacy
i am going to THROW UP
shane typed again.
shane
I want you guys to meet him.
lara
no
stacy
if i agree to meeting him that means im accepting wtv the fuck is happening right now
no
holly
no ❤️
shane stared at his sister’s texts for a while longer. he didn’t want to admit that it hurt.
shane
Dinner. Please.
lara
shane hollander
holly
absolutely not
we are not sitting down and pretending this is normal
shane
It is normal.
there was a pause, longer now, stretching into something that felt less like reaction and more like consideration they didn’t want to admit they were having.
julie
you really love him?
and he loves you?
stacy
jules wake the fuck up
shane
Yes, so much.
julie
for the record … i still dont like him
holly
thank you
stacy
finally some sense
julie
but ill go dinner
holly
FUCKING TRAITOR
lara
for fucks sake
stacy
ur unbelievable
julie
what??????????
i never said id be nice to the asshole!!!!!!!!!!
shane
He is not an asshole, he is my boyfriend.
I know you are looking out for me, all of you.
But, I truly love this man. Will you not just try and meet him? Please?
For me?
there was a long stretch of silence, the kind that felt like all four of them were staring at their screens, considering something they didn’t want to give in to.
And finally—
holly
one wrong breath from the man and im leaving im fucking serious
stacy
one wrong word
one wrong sound
one wrong fucking stare
i will throw something
julie
what is with u and throwing things
stacy
its meditative
julie
FOR WHO
there was a small pause, before the notification that shane was waiting for had come.
lara
date time and place
shane exhaled, slow and quiet, not relief exactly, but something close enough to it that his shoulders dropped just slightly.
shane
Thank you.
stacy
dont thank us yet shaney
julie
this is NOT approval.
holly
ilya should be SACRED
stacy
the c comes before the a dumbass
holly
YOU KNOW IT WS A MISTYPE OMG
shane
Was*
:)
holly
im leaving this family
julie
grown ass woman going into her thirties and cant even spell
holly
this is genuinely discrimination
stacy
HOW
he chuckled to himself quietly, before setting his phone down, the quiet of his cottage returning, steady and unchanged, only something beneath it had shifted slightly, something that felt like the beginning of something inevitable.
he lingered in the doorway a moment too long, watching ilya sprawled across the couch like he had always belonged there. the sight settled somewhere under shane’s ribs, familiar in a way that still didn’t feel fully real.
ilya looked up before he even spoke.
“you are doing the thinking face again,” ilya said, squinting slightly. “i do not like that one. it usually means trouble.”
shane blinked. “it’s just my face.”
“you tell yourself that.”
shane hesitated, then said flatly, “they said no.”
ilya exhaled through his nose. “all four of them?”
shane only nodded.
“i convinced them anyway,” shane added, like that was the important part.
that made ilya sit up a little. “you what?”
“dinner. next week. they can meet you.”
ilya stared at him for a second, then gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “you bullied your entire family to meet me.”
“i didn’t bully them.”
“ohh. you make them pity you first?”
shane considered that, then shrugged. “maybe, but that is not bullying.”
ilya leaned back again, shaking his head faintly, amused despite himself. “i am going to die at this dinner.”
shane stepped closer, stopping near the couch. the space between them immediately felt different, warmer, quieter. ilya reached out without thinking, catching shane lightly by the wrist and pulling him just a fraction closer until he was within reach.
god, ilya's scent. clean cedar, sharp and grounding, like the inside of a quiet forest in winter after snowfall, cold air that made everything feel clearer just by existing. there was something crisp in it, almost biting in its freshness. underneath that, a subtle warmth threaded through it, something faintly spiced, cardamom or clove, softening the edges without dulling them. and woven through all of it, the constant clean cotton of him, fresh laundry and soap and the reality of an athlete who never stayed still long enough to hold onto anything but routine, showering after training, washing away sweat, resetting himself again and again.
shane’s shoulders loosened slightly before he even realised it.
ilya noticed anyway, letting his voice soften. “you are less tense now.”
shane frowned a little. “that is not relevant.”
“is very relevant.”
shane didn’t argue further. he just stood there, quiet, letting the scent and the warmth of ilya’s hand anchor him in place.
“moya lyubov,” ilya added, quieter now, a hint of humour returning at the edges, “if they hate me, i will simply be so charming until they accept me.”
shane huffed under his breath. “that is not a strategy. also not very comforting.”
“too bad, it is the only personality trait i have prepared.”
shane shook his head faintly, but didn’t step away.
the morning had started long before it felt like morning at all. it was the kind of early that still carried night in its bones, when the sky outside the cottage was pale and undecided and the air inside was filled with the soft, repetitive sounds of things being moved, wiped down, corrected, moved again.
shane had insisted on it. just with that quiet, immovable certainty of his that left no real room for argument. not that ilya ever would argue against him. he had gone from room to room with a cloth in hand, adjusting things that were already clean, re-aligning edges of cushions, checking corners like the house itself might misbehave if not supervised properly.
ilya had followed him at first, half-asleep, hair still damp from a rushed shower, watching shane rearrange the kitchen counter for the third time.
“shane,” ilya had mumbled, leaning against the doorframe, “if you move that cup one more time, it will start moving by itself.”
“it’s not aligned,” shane had said seriously, not even looking up.
“it is a cup.”
“it’s incorrectly placed.”
ilya had sighed, then picked up a cloth anyway. by the time yuna and david arrived around five, the cottage already smelled like something warm, garlic and olive oil blooming slowly in the kitchen, tomatoes simmering down into something thick and red, basil crushed between fingers and released into the air. the table had already been set twice, then corrected into a third version that finally satisfied both yuna and shane in a moment of mutual agreement.
it was italian food, properly layered and overthought in the way yuna always did things when she cared too much. ilya could properly see where his shane got it from.
there were platters of roasted vegetables glazed with olive oil and herbs, eggplant soft and glossy, zucchini lightly charred at the edges. bowls of pasta sat in careful portions, one creamy with parmesan and black pepper, another slow-cooked with tomato. a large salad sat in the centre, bright with lemon dressing, shaved fennel and parmesan. warm focaccia was wrapped in linen, still steaming slightly, and small plates of antipasti lined the sideboard, olives, marinated artichokes, and thin slices of cured meat folded neatly.
everything looked like it had been arranged to be looked at before it was eaten.
david had taken one look at the spread and quietly said, “are we sure this is for only eight of us?”
yuna had only smiled, completely unbothered. “sit down.”
ilya had stayed close to shane most of the time without meaning to, like his body had decided proximity was the safest language it knew. shane moved through the kitchen in small, precise motions, occasionally pausing to check something only he seemed to notice needed checking.
david had eventually patted ilya on the back as they passed each other. “don’t worry,” he said lightly, voice warm but amused. “the girls look terrifying, but they usually only bite each other.”
ilya nodded once, smiling. “i am not worried.”
his face said something completely different. something more closer to i am absolutely, profoundly, shitting-my-pants worried.
the second doorbell came just after six.
shane exhaled once, long and controlled, before walking to answer it.
holly and lara stood on the porch. holly first, already moving before the door was fully open, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around shane in an immediate, familiar squeeze that lifted him slightly off balance. she was on her toes just to reach properly, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
“hi, shaney.”
“hi,” shane said automatically, hands hovering for half a second before settling into the hug properly.
holly pulled back just as quickly, scanning the house like she owned part of it. “i brought emotional support judgement. you’re welcome.”
“that's not a thing,” shane replied.
“it is if i say it is.”
behind her, lara stepped in more slowly, more controlled, her presence quieter but heavier in a different way. she looked at shane first with a smile, then she reached him. one hand came up, cupping his face briefly, thumb brushing his cheek in a gesture that was both affectionate and unbearably familiar, before she leaned in and pressed a kiss there.
“you smell like you’ve been in the kitchen for a while,” lara said as she stepped inside, glancing around once before taking off her shoes.
shane nodded. “mum did most of it.”
“of course she did,” lara replied, taking off her shoes without breaking eye contact. “i’m only surprised you agreed to it. you know, considering your stupid diet.”
holly snorted immediately. “you literally ate cup ramen for the whole week.”
“i work for a living, unlike someone. i don’t have time to eat proper meals,” lara shot back.
holly gasped. “i am literally employed.”
“since when was an internship employment?”
shane watched them for a second, blinking slowly, then said, very quietly, “please do not escalate.”
“we are not escalating,” holly said immediately. “this is called communication.”
inside, the living room was already full of noise when they walked in. stacy and julie had arrived earlier and were mid-argument about a movie they had both watched but clearly experienced in completely different emotional realities, julie animated and offended, stacy calm but relentlessly precise in a way that made it worse.
yuna was moving between the kitchen and table, placing dishes down with soft efficiency, and david was already halfway through a conversation that no one was fully listening to but everyone was politely participating in.
and ilya stood slightly to the side of it all, like a man waiting for impact.
shane stepped in first.
“holly, lara,” he said, then paused, briefly recalibrating his brain. “this is ilya. well— you know him. but this is him... um, in the house.”
shane cringed at himself.
ilya gave a small nod, polite and careful. “hello. i am ilya.”
lara looked him over for a second longer than necessary. “yes. i’m aware.”
a beat passed.
“you are taller than i expected,” lara added.
ilya blinked once, then gave a small shrug. “people usually say that.”
holly looked at him, almost with a glare, without hesitation. “i’m still deciding if i trust you.”
“holly,” shane said quietly, more warning than reproach.
“noted,” ilya said smoothly. “i will try to be less suspiciously tall.”
david clapped his hands once from the kitchen doorway. “okay. everyone. food. sit. the four of us didn’t work so hard to let it go to waste.”
chairs scraped softly as plates shifted. the room slowly settled into something that resembled structure.
shane hovered for a moment longer than everyone else, eyes flicking across the table, the faces, the sound of cutlery beginning to fill the gaps between conversation. the sensory details layered on top of each other, too many at once and yet familiar enough to manage.
he felt ilya appear beside him before he looked. not touching yet, just close enough.
“you okay?” ilya murmured.
shane nodded once. “yes.” then, after a pause, quieter, “thank you for doing this.”
ilya’s expression softened immediately, something almost fond and stupidly tender breaking through the nerves.
“of course,” he said.
dinner eased into something warmer and more ordinary than anyone had probably expected when they first walked in. the tension that had clung to the earlier introductions had dissolved somewhere between the first shared plates and the second round of passing food, replaced instead by the familiar rhythm of a family that argued out of habit more than conflict. the table had that lived-in chaos that only happened when people stopped trying to impress each other. glasses were slightly mismatched, napkins already crumpled, and someone had given up on proper serving etiquette entirely (stacy), just reaching across the table whenever they felt like it.
shane sat a little more relaxed now, though still quietly observant in the way he always was, eyes flicking between faces as if he was testing the pattern of everyone’s moods. his hand stayed in ilya’s under the table without hesitation now, fingers loosely interlaced, not clinging so much as anchoring. ilya, for his part, looked like he had fully accepted that he was currently surrounded by a group of people who treated verbal combat as affection.
“i’m just saying,” holly continued, stabbing at her food for emphasis, “if you don’t like pineapple on pizza, you should be required to disclose that to everyone in the room. it’s wrong. it belongs on pizza.”
stacy didn’t even look up. “you eat cereal at night like a raccoon with a credit card. the last person who gets to speak on food ethics is you.”
holly whined. “stop attacking me.”
“it’s an observation,” stacy corrected calmly.
julie leaned back in her chair, pointing her fork between them. “i think holly just wants attention from italians specifically.”
lara chimed in with a humming nod.
“i want justice! who said anything about attention?” holly said immediately.
ilya tilted his head slightly, considering this with exaggerated seriousness. “in russia, we do not argue about pineapple. we just suffer quietly and judge you forever.”
that earned him a laugh from david across the table, and even yuna shook her head in amusement, like she had given up on intervening in anything at this point.
“fine. i’ll bring italy into this and see how you like it,” holly replied, narrowing her eyes at him.
lara scoffed. “you aren’t even italian?”
stacy was the first to break the rhythm of the bickering, eyes flicking between them like she had been holding the thought in for a while and only just decided it was worth saying out loud.
“so,” she began, slower this time, “how long has this been going on?”
shane only sighed, but ilya didn’t miss a beat. “the relationship?”
“yes,” stacy said, a little flatly.
he leaned back slightly, thinking for a second like it was a math problem. “on and off nine years.”
that landed. holly stopped mid-bite, julie’s eyebrows shot up, and even lara looked up from her plate properly this time.
“nine?” holly repeated. “like… nine years— nine?”
shane nodded once, calm. “Yeah.”
julie let out a quiet laugh. “that’s actually insane.”
shane, still looking down at his plate, shrugged slightly. “it didn’t feel like nine years.”
“because you ignore half of my existence when i am out of montreal,” ilya said immediately.
shane didn’t look up. “you send me pictures of your breakfast at 4am. i didn’t respond.”
“is called emotional neglect,” ilya said seriously.
“it was mcdonald's, ilya,” shane corrected.
that got a few soft laughs around the table.
stacy leaned back in her chair, still processing. “wait, so you’ve been… doing this for almost a decade and nobody here knew? properly?”
holly pointed between them. “we knew of him, obviously. we just assumed he was shane’s rival.”
ilya nodded. “this is fair assumption. i am very vague man.”
julie tilted her head. “so what, you guys just kept coming back to each other?”
there was a small pause before shane answered, quieter than the rest of the room, still not looking up. “we didn’t really… stop.”
that softened the air a little.
ilya’s hand shifted under the table again, finding shane’s without looking, fingers lacing in like it was instinct more than thought.
“i am persistent,” ilya added lightly. “he is… unfortunately patient.”
“that sounds like a complaint,” shane said.
“it is compliment,” ilya corrected immediately. “very good patience. rare. like good parking spot.”
holly snorted. “that is the worst romantic metaphor i’ve ever heard.”
ilya nodded. “is why i’m athlete, not a poet.”
shane glanced at him briefly, lips twitching like he was trying not to smile fully, and under the table his fingers tightened once around ilya’s hand in a quiet, automatic reaction to something that felt safe.
under the table, ilya’s thumb brushed lightly over shane’s knuckles again, subtle and constant, like a habit that had become second nature. shane didn’t pull away from it. he just stayed there, breathing a little easier than before, while the conversation carried on around them in messy, affectionate chaos that somehow felt like it had always belonged there.
and while the conversation slowly drifted away from them, carried off into other arguments that had nothing to do with relationships, julie stayed still.
stacy and holly were still arguing about something ridiculous— stacy insisting that ilya and shane must’ve been “meeting in some shady alleyway like criminals to not get caught,” and holly swearing up and down that it was “definitely more secretive than an alleyway, because have you met shane?” lara kept trying to mediate, her voice soft and patient, but she was already laughing under her breath because the whole thing was spiraling into chaos the way it always did when the hollander sisters got going.
but julie’s attention had narrowed to the couple sitting diagonal from her.
to shane.
and to ilya sitting beside him.
she hadn’t expected… this.
she’d come to the dinner braced for tension, for that familiar protective spike in her chest, the one that always rose when an unfamiliar alpha got too close to her baby brother. she’d expected her scent to sharpen, that bitter‑coffee edge she couldn’t hide when she sensed even the possibility of someone hurting him. she’d expected to have to step between them, to shield shane the way she always had since childhood.
but instead she found herself staring, almost stunned, at the way ilya was with him.
the patience. and such softness.
the way he angled his body toward shane without crowding him, leaving space like he understood instinctively that shane needed room to breathe. the way his scent, cardamom and something bright underneath, like citrus peel warmed by sunlight, stayed steady and low, careful not to overwhelm the omega beside him.
shane, for his part, was doing that thing he always did when he was overwhelmed. shoulders tight, hands fisted tightly, eyes fixed on the floor like the patterns in the carpet were the only safe thing to look at. his scent was thin at the edges, frayed with nerves, that soft linen‑and‑tea smell he carried naturally turning a little sour, a little shaky, the way it always did when he was trying too hard to hold himself together.
and ilya… ilya noticed.
julie saw it happen. the moment the alpha’s eyes flicked to shane, the moment he caught the shift in scent, the moment his whole posture softened. he didn’t touch him, didn’t lean in, didn’t do anything that would make shane flinch or retreat. he just let his presence settle, slow and warm, like he was offering steadiness without asking for anything back.
julie felt something in her chest loosen.
because it wasn’t uncommon in the hollander family to worry about shane. not just because he was an omega, though that came with its own set of fears, but because he was their shane. quiet, blunt, easily overwhelmed, missing half the social cues people threw at him and exhausted by the other half. he’d always been sensitive to noise, to crowds, to sudden changes in tone. and the NHL… god, the NHL was brutal even for alphas.
there were only three omega players in the entire league. three. and they were constantly getting shit for it, called weak, fragile, “biologically unsuited for hockey,” like anyone had the right to decide what someone else’s body could or couldn’t do.
and shane… he had to hear every word.
julie remembered the nights he came home from practice with that defeated look on his face, the one he tried to hide but never could, standing in the doorway of her room, shoulders hunched, eyes red but dry, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to cry yet. and she’d go to him without a word, her alpha scent softening on purpose, warm coffee, steady and grounding, letting it wrap around him until his breathing evened out. he’d melt into her arms then, quiet and shaking, tears slipping down his cheeks as he buried his face in her shoulder. she’d hold him through it, scenting him gently, smoothing his hair back, whispering nothing but calm into the air between them.
the next day, nobody at practice dared to look at him wrong. and if julie or her sisters had anything to do with that… well.
they weren’t going to say a thing.
but now, watching ilya, this alpha she’d been prepared to dislike on principle, she felt something shift. because ilya wasn’t treating shane like some omega. he wasn’t treating him like a trophy or a responsibility or a fragile thing to be handled. he was treating him like a person. like someone worth patience, worth gentleness, worth understanding, and so much more.
julie’s scent softened without her meaning to, warm coffee drifting into the air, steady and familiar. stacy shot her a look from across the room, eyebrows raised like she’d just witnessed a miracle.
julie ignored her.
because ilya had just leaned a little closer, not touching or crowding, and shane’s shoulders had dropped by a fraction, his scent smoothing out, the sour edge fading into something softer. something safe.
julie felt her chest loosen, something unclenching that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding tight.
because shane was happy.
not the brittle, careful kind of happy he sometimes pretended to be. but a real happiness that was only safe and soft.
and no matter how much resentment she’d walked in with, she felt herself warming to ilya in the same slow, inevitable way she’d always warmed to shane. not as fiercely, not as instinctively, but enough to feel satisfied with the man her brother had chosen. enough to feel something like relief settle into her bones.
still, a small ache tugged at her.
she would miss the ritual— the one only the hollander siblings understood, the one that had shaped their whole childhood into something like a private language. the way they always knew how shane’s day had gone before he even opened his mouth, just by the shift of his scent when he walked through the door.
if it had soured at the edges, sharp with hurt or humiliation, julie always stepped forward first. her own scent softened instantly, deep, roasted warmth, the kind that settled low in the chest rather than hitting sharp in the nose. there was nothing bitter in it, the harsh edges had been smoothed out by years of learning how to calm an overwhelmed omega brother, as she would wrap around him until his breathing evened out.
if it was faint, barely there, lara would ask gently if he’d eaten, already reaching for a snack before he answered.
if it spiked with anxiety, bright and jittery, holly would crack some ridiculous joke until shane snorted despite himself, the sharpness fading into something softer.
and if it drifted in warm and even, steady as a heartbeat, stacy would slightly grin and say, “good. nobody pissed you off today.”
he never had to explain anything.
they read him like weather.
julie felt that ache again, a nostalgia that settled behind her ribs like a bruise that didn’t hurt anymore but still remembered being sore.
but the way ilya so clearly loved shane, even in the forty minutes julie had seen of their nine‑year relationship, it made her realise the ache wasn’t loss at all.
it was transition. because shane wasn’t losing his sisters. he was gaining someone who saw him the way they did. someone who understood his silences, his bluntness, his sensory storms, his need for space and his need for grounding. someone who didn’t treat him like an omega to be managed, but a person to be understood.
ilya would protect him, support him, and stand beside him without forcing some alpha domination on him. he could steady him without smothering him, and of course, he could read him like weather, too. shane wasn’t just happy.
he was safe.
and he wasn’t alone anymore.
that itself was more than enough for julie to know that ilya was right for him.
dinner had wrapped up more gently than anyone expected, the tension that had clung to shane earlier, that thin, trembling edge to his scent, like linen stretched too tight, had softened into something steadier. ilya’s presence had done most of the work, even if shane would never admit it out loud. the alpha had stayed close but not too close, his scent kept low and warm, a quiet anchor for the omega beside him.
yuna and david were the first to leave, offering warm hugs to ilya and shane both. yuna squeezed ilya’s arm with that motherly firmness and david clapped him on the shoulder with a nod that carried more weight than words. ilya accepted both with a soft smile, murmuring something polite in his accented english that made yuna laugh. it had been a while since ilya had felt such parented love.
stacy left next, ruffling shane’s hair on her way out, and even though shane ducked away from her hand, muttering something about personal space, his scent warmed at the familiar teasing.
holly followed with a smug grin. “by the way,” she said, “the pasta was dry.”
shane stared at her, deadpan. “you ate the entire bowl.”
“yeah, well,” holly said, shrugging, “i was hungry.”
“you’re literally taking the leftovers home.”
holly lifted the container she’d already packed for herself. “and i’ll complain about those too.” holly said, triumphant, before disappearing out the door.
lara paused only long enough to give shane a soft smile. “get some rest tonight,” she said, voice gentle but firm.
shane nodded back, eyes flicking to her face for half a second before dropping again. “okay.”
all three sisters gave ilya a simple nod as they passed, nothing dramatic, nothing overly warm, but enough. enough for ilya to straighten a little, enough for his scent to brighten with quiet pride. for an alpha seeking approval from his omega’s sisters, that kind of acknowledgment was practically a medal.
julie lingered last, crouched by the entryway as she tugged on her shoes. when she stood again, she looked at shane and ilya with a softness she rarely let anyone see. she stepped toward shane first. he stiffened instinctively, he always did with sudden contact, but she moved slowly, giving him time to adjust. when she wrapped her arms around him, his scent fluttered once, startled, then settled into something warm and fragile.
she leaned in, her voice barely above a breath. “i’m sorry i rejected him at first,” she whispered. “he truly loves you, and that’s more than enough for me to accept him.”
shane froze for a heartbeat, like his brain needed a moment to process the words. when she pulled back, his face was caught somewhere between shock and confusion, his brows drawn together, his mouth parted like he wasn’t sure what expression he was supposed to make.
julie smiled, a little crooked. “yeah, i know. shocking. i can be wrong sometimes.”
shane huffed out a tiny laugh, the sound almost startled. “guess so.”
“and i guess i’ll be the one convincing our sisters for you,” she added, rolling her eyes. “as usual.”
shane nodded once, earnest. “thank you.”
“nothing to thank me for,” she said, shaking her head.
she turned to ilya. “i’ve come to be quite fond of you, ilya,” she said, voice warm.
ilya’s smile was small but warm. “i am honoured,” he said, accent curling around the words. “and relieved. mostly relieved.”
julie snorted. “yeah, well. don’t make me regret it.”
“i will try my best,” ilya said, hand over his heart in mock sincerity. “but no promises. i am naturally unbearable. is why shane fell in love with me.”
“oh god,” shane muttered under his breath, but his scent warmed with amusement.
julie laughed, shaking her head as she stepped out the door. “goodnight, you two.”
she walked down the path with a lightness she hadn’t felt when she arrived, sliding into her car, the quiet settling around her like a blanket. she let herself breathe for a moment, letting the lingering scents of the evening fade from her senses.
then her phone buzzed.
a message lit up the screen.
stacy
i cannot believe you already accepted him
#WEAK
she only scoffed before replying.
julie
there is genuinely no way your turning thirties
stacy
STOP BRINGING UP MY AGE