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He takes a deep breath and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “You’re special and she’s missing out.”
A small smile lifts the corner of my lips.
I’m glad there’s someone who notices me enough to see how much I love my family.
3
Iris
I wake up to the smell of French toasts the next morning.
Delilah’s here, the thought races through my mind as I throw off the covers to get out of bed. French toast with chocolate syrup is her favorite breakfast. Mom makes it whenever she comes home from the academy.
Grabbing a hair tie, I skip down the stairs to reach the kitchen downstairs.
Delilah and Dad are sitting at the table while Mom’s prodding a slice of toast on the pan. I must’ve been tired last night because I didn’t hear them coming back from the event.
There’s an air of strange restlessness among my family.
Delilah looks teary-eyed and sullen. Dad’s expression is grim as he pretends to read the morning newspaper. Mom is quiet too.
Did something happen last night?
I slowly approach the table and take a seat.
“Morning,” I say, looking at everyone. “Did everything go well last night?”
Dad’s fingers tighten around the paper’s edges so hard, the sheet crumbles in his fist. He still holds it in front of his face, keeping his expression hidden.
“It was a wonderful evening,” Mom says a little too loudly. A little too cheerfully. “Wasn’t it, darling?”
Delilah looks at me strangely and nods. She’s usually much more talkative, especially where there are French toasts for breakfast. Why is she sulking so bad this early in the morning?
“Here’s your breakfast,” Mom says, sliding a plate of French toast toward me. “When do you have to leave for work today?”
“Soon,” I say.
While both our parents are looking away, I gently tap my finger on Delilah’s hand. She glances my way and an apologetic look comes over her.
“I’m so sorry, Iris,” she says in a low, strained voice that’s on the verge of cracking. Squeezing my hand tight, she pushes her chair back and leaves the kitchen.
“Are you sure nothing happened last night?” I ask Dad. “D’s acting so weird.”
“Everything was fine,” Mom says, coming to the table with a mug of coffee. “People adored your sister. You’d have seen it if you stayed there longer.”
“Then, why is she so quiet? Didn’t anyone try to propose to her?”
“Oh, they did,” Mom says with a chuckle. “She’s pouty about something else. The backstabbing that goes on in that academy is horrendous. She told me what you did for her.” Leaning in, she brushes away my hair strands to take a close look at my forehead. “I’m glad it’s just a bruise,” she says. “Still, make sure you put something on it so that it heals quickly.”
“Yes, Mom,” I say, blinking at her like a lost lamb.
Delilah usually had most of her attention. So anytime, she fussed over me, I’d melt into a puddle.
People always tease me, saying I’m adopted.
They just had no idea how dangerous it is for an omega child to be out in the open. There were those involved in omega kidnapping and trafficking. Our town was safer than most but such incidents still took place from time to time.
Delilah needed my parents’ attention. She also needed to be brought up in a way that would ensure her a good position in an upper-class pack. It wasn’t anyone’s fault she needed more care than me.
