I wake up to white light and the smell of antiseptic.
For a moment I just lie there, taking stock. Ceiling tiles. The soft beep of a monitor. A dull, deep ache that starts somewhere in my chest and radiates outward.
Two days, it turns out. I lost two days.
Qingxue is asleep in the chair beside me, curled into herself with her coat pulled up to her chin. Ruofei is leaning against the wall across the room, arms folded, eyes closed — though the slight tension in his posture tells me he hasn't been asleep long. They both look exhausted in the specific way of people who refused to leave.
I try to sit up. Pain shoots through me immediately and I hiss through my teeth, abandoning the idea. Ruofei opens his eyes.
"You're awake." He pushes off the wall, stifling a yawn. He looks at Qingxue and something softens in his expression. "Good people, trustworthy people — they remind me of Wenli."
"The secret," I say. "What you knew."
"That you were Wenli's friend." He pulls a chair over and sits. "He talked about you before he introduced us. Never mentioned your Chinese name, though — I never would have connected Jeremy to you."
"Not many people do. That's the point."
"I imagine." He studies me for a moment. "I was also surprised you managed to hide the other thing. Being an omega. We have more in common than I expected."
The room is quiet. Outside the door, the hospital hums on.
"So you know," I say.
"I know." He meets my eyes steadily. "And before you ask — I'm not going to tell her. You have your reasons. I can see that plainly enough, and it's not my place." He pauses. "I just wanted you to know that someone else knows. That you're not carrying it entirely alone."
I look at him for a long moment. I had assumed, if it ever came to this, that whoever found out would go straight to Lexin. The relief is disorienting — warm and slightly destabilizing, like stepping inside from the cold.
"Thank you," I say.
"In return, I want us to be friends." The corner of his mouth lifts. "I'd like to get to know the person my soulmate talked about for hours before I finally met them."
I laugh — really laugh — and the sound wakes Qingxue.
She sits up, blinking, and her eyes find me immediately. Before I can say anything, she's leaning forward, taking both my hands in hers and turning them over, checking my arms, my wrists, scanning my face.
"I'm alright, Xue."
She looks up. Her eyes are already filling.
"You promised," she says. Her voice breaks on the second word. "You promised you would stop."
Ruofei's expression goes still and quiet. Qingxue presses her hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking. I reach for her.
"I'm still here," I say. "I'm still alive. Come here."
She lets me pull her into a hug this time, and I hold her while she cries. Over her shoulder, I catch Ruofei's eye. He's watching us with that blank, careful stillness — processing something he doesn't have the full picture of yet.
Qingxue pulls back slightly and looks at me. Then at Ruofei. Then back at me, the question plain in her face.
I nod.
"Ruofei," I say. I'm still holding Qingxue's hand. "There's something I need to tell you."
Qingxue mouths are you sure? I nod again.
"The reason I collapsed," I start. I feel her hand tighten around mine. "It was the suppressants. I've been taking them in doses far above what's recommended. For years."
Silence.
Then: "The fuck, Zhirui!?" He says it quietly, which is almost worse than shouting. He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Why would you — " He stops. Something moves across his face. He goes very still.
"Is it because of my sister?"
I glance at Qingxue. She gives me the smallest nod.
"Yes," I say. "Because of her."
He's quiet for a moment. "So you've been doing this — putting yourself in a hospital — because Lexin can't stand omega pheromones."
"You could put it that way."
"You risked your life for that."
"...Yes."
He leans forward and pinches my cheek, hard enough to make me yelp.
"Auch — what—"
"For choosing my sister over your own health." His voice is stern but his eyes aren't. "Don't do it again."
"Yes, sir."
He chuckles despite himself. The tension in his shoulders drops a fraction.
"When are you going to tell her?" he asks.
"Her birthday."
Qingxue's eyes go wide. "That's two weeks away."
"I know. I've already decided. Nothing's changing my mind."
Ruofei is quiet for a moment. Then he reaches over and pats my head once, with the comfortable authority of someone who has already made a decision.
"Brother-in-law," he says.
I stare at him. "Why are you calling me that?"
"Because I've had my eye on you for a while now, whether you knew it or not. I haven't seen you lie once. Your feelings for her are real — anyone paying attention can see it." He tilts his head. "But I'll ask anyway: are you sure? About choosing her? Because if you're not, there's no rush. I could introduce you to someone."
Qingxue swats him on the shoulder. I smile.
"I'm sure."
"Good." He leans back. "Then I stand by what I said."
The tears come without warning — quiet ones, sliding down before I notice them. Qingxue reaches over and wipes them away without a word.
"I'm lucky," I say. "To have both of you."
Neither of them says anything, but they don't need to.
An hour later, the doctor arrives.
He's a calm, unhurried man who reads my chart without drama and then looks at me with the expression of someone about to say something I already half-know.
"Your heat is coming," he says. "And this time, you won't be able to suppress it. Your body has been patient long enough."
"I understand."
He passes me a small bottle. I turn it over in my hands.
"You've been taking the same compound for so long that you're building a tolerance to it. These are different — similar mechanism, but gentler, and without the side effects you've been accumulating." He pauses. "If you're consistent with these and begin reducing your overall intake, there's a reasonable chance your system will start to regulate itself again."
Qingxue makes a small, relieved sound. Ruofei exhales slowly.
"Thank you," I tell the doctor.
After he leaves, I look at the bottle for a long moment. Then at the two of them.
"See?" I say. "Things are already getting better."
"Throw away the old ones," Ruofei says. "I mean it. The new ones only."
"Do you want that in writing?" I ask.
He blinks. "Could you — " He catches Qingxue's face. "You were joking."
"I was joking."
He stares at me. "You said it completely seriously."
"I know."
"That's — you can't do that to people, Zhirui."
I start laughing, and after a moment he does too, reluctant and then genuine. Qingxue shakes her head at both of us.
"I'm glad we became friends," Ruofei says, when we've settled.
"So am I," I tell him.
Outside, the afternoon light is shifting through the blinds, striping the floor in long, pale bars. I'm tired still — bone-tired, the kind that two days unconscious doesn't touch — but something in my chest is looser than it was.
Not fixed. Not yet. But looser.