Chapter Text
The wedding was beautiful - at least, on the outside.
Flashes of cameras, rows of white flowers, and the perfect matching tuxedos created a picturesque image for the public to consume. Rafayel, the soft-spoken omega idol, stood beside the man he had admired from afar for years : Caleb, the 34-year-old alpha actor whose name had been smeared across every scandal blog just months before.
To the world, it was a fairy tale.
To them, it was a contract.
Caleb didn't look at him the way a husband should - not on their wedding day, not on the wedding night, and certainly not after.
He was civil in public - charming, even. He would hold Rafayel's waist, lean in during interviews, and smile when paparazzi yelled at them to kiss. He played the role of a loving husband flawlessly. But behind closed doors, the air between them was colder than winter rain.
"You don't have to act when we're alone." Caleb had said on the first night, his voice tired and indifferent. "I'm not going to touch you."
Rafayel had only nodded. He was used to silence.
Caleb thought Rafayel was in it for the money. Everyone did. The press whispered about how convenient it was - a young, struggling idol suddenly married to one of the richest alphas in the industry. A nobody clinging to a sinking star.
But no one knew the truth. Not even Caleb.
Two years ago, Rafayel had stepped into an elevator with his arms full of coffee for his seniors. He'd stumbled-spilling the iced Americano right on Caleb's designer shoes. His heart had nearly stopped.
Caleb had only blinked, looked at his shoes, then up at Rafayel's pale, horrified face.
"You okay?" Caleb had asked, voice calm. "You're shaking."
Rafayel had been ready for curses, threats, maybe even a fine. Instead, Caleb had handed him a clean towel from his assistant's bag.
"You should change too. You're drenched."
He hadn't remembered it, clearly. But Rafayel had never forgotten.
Living with Caleb was like walking on eggshells.
The actor came home late most nights, exhausted from filming or meetings, and harshly said a word. Sometimes he slept in the guest room. Sometimes he didn't come home at all. But Rafayel cooked for him anyway. Quietly. Without expecting a thank you. He made sure Caleb's shoes were lined up neatly by the door. He never complained.
He just sang.
Late at night, when he thought Caleb was asleep or out,Rafayel would hum softly in the kitchen while washing dishes, or quietly sing to himself as he folded laundry. Music was the only time he felt he could breathe.
And sometimes, Caleb would pause outside the kitchen door, listening.
The media still speculated. Rumors swirled that Caleb missed his ex. That he was being blackmailed. That Rafayel was a manipulative omega who trapped and unwilling alpha. And Rafayel bore it all with the same quite grade, never defending himself.
But one night, after an especially brutal tabloid cover, Caleb snapped,
"Do you enjoy this?" he asked, slamming the magazine onto the table in front of Rafayel. "All this attention? Is this what you wanted?"
Rafayel looked up at him, eyes wide and wounded, but said nothing.
Caleb felt his anger deflate. Something about the omega's silence was heavier than any scream.
Rafayel hesitated, then gave the same answer he gave everyone else : "I needed it."
But the truth was more fragile. And Caleb wasn't ready to hear it.
Weeks passed. One night, Rafayel fell asleep on the couch waiting for Caleb, his cheek pressed against a song notebook. Caleb came in late, exhausted, but stopped when he saw the sleeping form.
The notebook had fallen open. Lyrics. Soft. Longing. Painful.
"Even if you never look my way. I'll still sing for you."
Caleb stared. He recognized the handwriting. Rafayel wrote songs?
He picked up the notebook and saw the date on the first page : 2 years ago.
Even before the marriage.
That night, Caleb didn't sleep.
Things changed after that.
Slowly.
Caleb started coming home earlier. He joined Rafayel in the kitchen, offering to cut vegetables. He complimented Rafayel's cooking. He didn't smile much - but his silence grew warmer.
And once, he asked, "Do you still sing?"
Rafayel nodded, unsure.
"Sing for me, sometime."
Rafayel blinked. His heart raced."Okay."
The first time Rafayel sang for him, it was just the two of them. No cameras. No scripts. Just a living room, a guitar and the song Caleb had read in his notebook.
When he finished, Caleb was silent for a long time.
Then he said, "I remember you."
Rafayel looked up.
"The elevator," Caleb said, smiling faintly. " You dropped coffee on me. I wasn't sure at first...but I remember thinking you had the saddest eyes I'd ever seen."
Rafayel's lips parted, stunned.
"You didn't even yell at me," he whispered.
"Why would I yell at someone who looked like they were about to cry?" Caleb leaned in a little. "I always wondered what happened to you."
A pause. A heartbeat.
"You married me," Rafayel said softly.
"No." Caleb looked into his eyes. "You married me. I'm just...finally starting to catch up."
It wasn't perfect. Healing never was. But slowly, the walls between them began to crumble. Caleb started listening to Rafayel's songs. Rafayel started smiling more.
And one day, when no one was watching, Caleb kissed him - not for the cameras, not for the contract, but because he wanted to.
Because maybe, just maybe...
The marriage wasn't fake anymore.