Between Love and Civil War

Chapter 1

The ticking of the clock reached the twelve mark: it was six o'clock. Employees at the Guild of Merchants hurried about, and William Hightower was no exception.
He was delayed at the Merchant's Stable for two minutes because of a small tabby cat that had made itself cozy under his car. He had to coax the little furball out before he could be on his way.
By the time he arrived back at Hightower Manor, it was six-forty. The house was eerily silent, the only sound being the soft ticking of the wall clock. The living room was empty, and the kitchen was deserted. The dining room was vacant—his wife hadn’t prepared dinner.
Elena Rook was still working in her study, obsessively typing away. Her submission was due by eight, and she seemed stuck in the middle of it all.
William slipped off his tailored suit jacket and unfastened his watch, then turned toward the kitchen. He was fuming as he chopped radishes, lost in thoughts about their year of marriage.
At first, he and Elena had been set up on a blind date. They said she was a gentle, well-to-do Omega from a family that spoiled her—a middle child with one Alpha brother and one Beta brother. The minute William's parents found out she was an Omega, especially one with good breeding potential, Lady Amelia Hightower was practically giddy. After seeing a picture of Elena and meeting her in person, both Hightower parents were quick to express their approval. As luck would have it, Elena was more than satisfied with her date—William’s impressive height at six-foot-three and his position as an executive in a private firm sealed the deal. Soon enough, their parents were buzzing with excitement as they married.
Everyone remarked on how perfectly matched they seemed.
William had thought so too, at least until he discovered that Elena was, in fact, a sheltered princess.
She could hardly cook, left household chores in disarray, and her job providing freelance articles for a magazine did not impress him. In his eyes, it seemed anything but stable. The thought made him hasten his movements in chopping as if the knife could slice through the perplexity of their situation.
William mentally enumerated Elena's “shortcomings,” wishing for a checklist. In an unexpected twist, he found himself considering at least one of her redeeming qualities: she was quite enthusiastic in bed.
When it came to that, Elena did embody the essence of an Omega—at least, the way William understood it. In their private moments, she was surprisingly compliant; William could request any position, suggest any frequency, and more often than not, Elena would even gently nudge him to “go again.”
The sizzling of the radish in the pot was interrupted when he slapped a lid on it. Even over the din of the range hood, he could hear the sound of Elena’s door creaking open.
She shuffled into the kitchen in her slippers, hair disheveled, looking as if she hadn’t eaten all day.
Leaning against the kitchen doorframe, her dark circles underlined a weary expression, her voice a feeble whisper.
“What’s for dinner?” she asked.
Lifting the lid produced a cloud of steam. William stayed silent, but Elena caught the whiff of radish cooking.
“Radish again? We just had that yesterday,” she complained, almost sounding hurt.
William turned off the burner, set down the spatula, and focused on her eyes, “What do you want to eat, and why can’t you just make it yourself?”
“I can’t cook like you! Why are you so upset?” Elena replied, her brow furrowing in bewilderment. “Besides, didn’t you always make dinner?”
How could she dare say that? William felt his frustration boil over. Over their year of marriage, he’d had very few meals prepared by his wife. After a long day at work, returning home to whip up dinner meant they might as well not have tied the knot at all.
If there was a difference, it was that now he was paying for another person’s meals.
It also made him wonder if it was just Elena or if all Omegas behaved this way; whenever her heat cycle approached, she devoured food at an alarming rate, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.
Rolling his sleeves up slightly, he paused to collect his words carefully. “Elena Rook, we should get a divorce.”

Chapter 2

Elena Rook blinked, a hint of confusion crossing her face as if she hadn't fully grasped what she'd just heard.
Her husband, William Hightower, patiently repeated, "We're getting a divorce."
Elena spent the whole night tossing and turning in bed, unable to find sleep.
Divorce was something she had considered but had never voiced aloud. After being married for so long, she realized she didn’t know William Hightower very well, and judging by his demeanor, he didn’t understand her either. Aside from the occasional family dinner, they shared few activities together.
William Hightower was busy with his job, often leaving at a predictable hour, which was a relief to Elena. She couldn't cook due to her own work commitments, often leaving meals to him. And household chores? William would comment on her poor folding skills and the way she cleaned the floors…
But what she truly didn't understand was why the floors had to be mopped three times a day, each time meticulously disinfected with harsh chemicals.
She really, truly detested the smell of disinfectant.
Of course, William had no idea what she liked or disliked; otherwise, he wouldn't be so adamant about household tasks.
Overall, to her, William was a stickler for cleanliness, to the point of being overly meticulous.
There were some redeeming qualities, though.
Elena turned over in bed, her phone illuminating briefly—it was already four in the morning. As she lay there mumbling to herself about William's good traits, she drifted off again.
As soon as the sun came up, William was seated in the living room, ready for Elena to accompany him to The Hall of Justice to finalize their divorce.
She had barely slept, and it wasn’t until past eight that she reluctantly opened her eyes. Upon stepping out of her room, she was greeted by William's dark expression, rivaling that of the pug across the street.
"Good morning." Elena offered a casual greeting and instinctively opened the fridge, searching for some bread for breakfast.
As she poked her head into the fridge, William's rage flared. He almost let a curse slip.
Suppressing his irritation, he lowered his voice, "It's not morning anymore; The Hall of Justice is open."
Oh, his words hit her, and she nearly forgot that they had planned to get divorced yesterday.
There’s no time like the present. If they were going to do this, they might as well get it over with today and enjoy the peace that would follow. William certainly had that part figured out; getting divorced today meant he wouldn't have to make Elena lunch.
When Elena emerged from her room again, she looked younger in a fresh outfit, her hair styled casually, which irritated William further.
"Come on, grab your things!" he urged impatiently, leaving first to fetch a car from the Merchant's Stable.
“Okay, okay,” Elena nodded like a chick pecking at grains, clutching a document folder that she hoped contained everything they needed.
Only hoped.
In The Hall of Justice, chaos erupted as a couple was arguing because the Omega forgotten their marriage certificate.
“Seriously? You can't keep track of your own documents, now I have to produce them?” Elena's face flushed with embarrassment as she sat down.
“You’re not my wife! You’re not my legal spouse. Other documents are fine, but I gave you the marriage certificate on Day One!” William countered, his questions coming fast and furious, without letting up for breath.
"How did you manage to make such a mess?" Elena shot back angrily. "Last time your friends visited, they insisted on seeing the marriage certificate. You were the one who pulled it out! How am I supposed to know you lost it after that?"
William recalled the flurry of that first week of marriage, filled with visitors who stepped over his threshold. They came both to see his new wife and to witness their friend tie the knot after years of being a confirmed bachelor.
Elena didn’t see it as friendly; she had grown weary from smiling and nodding during those days. She had even thought about how fortunate it was that she would only be married once in a lifetime.
In her brief twenty-plus years, she hadn’t met anyone she truly loved; marrying William Hightower hadn’t seemed like a terrible option—truthfully, he wasn't bad at all… before marriage.
"So, are we going to go through with this divorce or not?" William's voice lost some of its initial bravado. He turned to Elena, who was still blushing, her brows knitted together in a pout.
“Divorce? After all this?” piped up Aunt Gertrude, who had been observing their quarrel. “Look at you two, you’re a striking couple! Why would you want to throw that away?”

Chapter 3

In the bustling halls of the Courthouse, Aunt Gertrude was well-known for her meddlesome ways. The moment she noticed William Hightower and Elena Rook arguing, she couldn’t help but rise from her desk, slamming her hands down on the surface.
“Madam, you don't understand! He wants to divorce me, and he didn’t even bring the paperwork!” Elena’s voice was laced with fury as she launched into a tirade against William.
“Look at that! And I haven't even had a chance to speak, yet here comes the blame!” William shot back, his glower intense enough to pierce right through Elena.
Aunt Gertrude remained unfazed, taking a sip of her tea while adjusting Elena's collar, revealing a fading bite mark on her neck that was glaringly visible against the air.
“Nice set of teeth you’ve got there,” she quipped, casting a sideways glance at William, whose expression seemed a shade less sour, indicating that infidelity might not be at play here after all.
“He’s like a dog that doesn’t know how to behave!” Elena muttered quietly.
In the past year, she had never before spoken to William in such a way, which only added to his agitated state.
What should have been a happy occasion was now thoroughly ruined by William’s stubbornness.
“So when did you two tie the knot?” Aunt Gertrude inquired, raising an eyebrow.
William caught sight of her employee badge peeking from her coat and reluctantly mumbled the date.
“Oh, so it’s been over a year since you got hitched. Why the divorce now?”
“He’s too picky!”
“He’s lazy!”
The couple answered in unison, triggering laughter from Aunt Gertrude.
“Ah, young folks and their tempers,” she chuckled, patting William on the shoulder. She had to stand on tiptoe just to reach him. “You’ve both already made your marks in life; it looks pretty good from where I stand. Just think about it—there are tons of people out there searching for love, and you found each other. Why throw it away?”
With Aunt Gertrude’s unwavering persuasion echoing in his ears, it was a surprise when William truly decided to take Elena home with him.
As the young couple exited, Aunt Gertrude felt a swell of pride at having lessened her workload for the day.
“Sister Mary, how on earth did you manage to convince them to stay together?” a co-worker leaned in curiously.
“Marriage rates are so low these days, and so many young couples are rushing to divorce over the smallest issues. If they don’t figure it out now, when they get older, they might regret it,” Aunt Gertrude replied, shaking her head.
Young Sophia, ever the skeptic, chimed in, “But what if they’re truly unhappy? What if there’s abuse involved?”
“Those hell-bent on divorce wouldn’t forget to bring their documents nor would they argue in public over trivial matters,” Aunt Gertrude countered, taking her seat again.
Back at Hightower Manor, the clock struck just past ten as Elena Rook entered, tossing her documents onto the entryway table. She didn’t even glance in William Hightower’s direction.
Fine by him, William thought. He removed his coat and hung it up before retreating to their master bedroom to tackle the work he had left unattended from the previous night.
Inside their home, they felt more like strangers than a married couple.
By one in the afternoon, after catching up on sleep, Elena finally emerged from their bedroom, on a quest for food. The brisk autumn air had seeped in, and peering out the window, she noticed the fallen leaves—fall was truly upon them. Remembering her earlier argument with William, she realized she hadn’t even put on her slippers before rushing back to their room.
Stepping into the hallway, she found it eerily quiet and peeked into the living room, confirming that no one was there.
With William absent, she boldly stepped out, her bare feet padding against the cold floor, snagging a towel from the little balcony where she had left her laundry.
The steam filled the bathroom as Elena cranked the water up to a scalding temperature, enjoying a solo concert under the spray before abruptly shutting it off. She hastily dried herself off, the towel barely wrapped around her body as she stepped back outside, half-cocked and carefree.

Chapter 4

William Hightower wasn't in the living room. He was probably tucked away in his study, finishing up whatever work had consumed his afternoon. As Elena Rook stepped into the kitchen after her shower, she noticed the sink was spotless—no dirty dishes cluttering it.
She hadn’t eaten lunch yet, and her stomach growled in response to her realization.
“William, are you in there?” Elena knocked on his door.
A low voice grumbled a reply from inside, and she took it as an invitation, turning the doorknob and stepping across the thick wool rug that covered the floor.
“What’s up?” His irritation was palpable when he spoke, confirming Elena's suspicion that he was still stewing over their earlier argument.
“Nothing much,” she replied, sitting on the edge of his bed, her towel precariously wrapped around her. It seemed ready to slip off any moment.
“Then you can just go out. I have work to do,” William said, fixated on his laptop, the blue light casting shadows across his stern face and adding to the air of detachment between them.
Elena let out a soft sigh. She got up, walked over to the window, and drew the heavy curtains shut. Once the thick fabric was in place, the room plummeted into darkness.
What was his deal? William fumed silently, still irked from their earlier spat. Now she was trying to cozy up after their fight?
Once the curtains were drawn, she flicked on a small lamp; the warm glow transformed the room into something inviting.
“What are you doing?” William frowned, confused.
Elena stepped closer, looking down into his eyes, “Do you want me to?”
For a split second, he thought he misheard her. But as Elena leaned closer, grabbing his shoulder, he realized she was dead serious.
The fabric of his shirt creased under her grip, and her lips brushed against his, soft and insistent. Her tongue, warm and teasing, danced across his mouth, prying open his defenses.
After a brief kiss, William found himself lifting Elena off the ground, his hands dangerously close to tearing her towel apart.
She was clearly teasing him now, releasing pheromones that drove him to the edge of reason.
He leaned closer, murmuring, “Do you want me to?”
With a firm squeeze, he molded her curves in his hands, as if trying to imprint her into his memory.
“Yes,” she breathed.
It was rare for William to be so decisive. In one swift motion, he swept Elena off her feet, tossing her playfully onto the bed. Thankfully, his mattress was soft; otherwise, the landing might’ve been painful.
The soft light from the lamp flickered for just a moment before it was doused as he moved over her, his attraction overpowering any remnants of their earlier argument.
In that instant, Elena sunk into the bed, breathless and overwhelmed, wrapping herself around him as they lost themselves in a passionate embrace.
Hours later, the room lay in disarray. Elena sprawled out in the center of the bed, legs wide, dozing peacefully. When William pulled back the curtains, he was surprised to find that night had fallen, streetlights illuminating the streets like stars above.
She took a drag from her cigarette, the cold breeze flooding in as she admired the view outside.
“Close the window,” she mumbled sleepily.
“It’s cold,” he argued.
Sometimes, Elena thought, William's inability to care for others was almost comical. He had very little romantic experience, and it showed. She held back an eye roll, burying her face into the pillow.
After their heated encounter, lying naked on his bed while a chill whipped through the air, she couldn’t help but feel frustrated at him for being so thoughtless.
Maybe he noticed her silent treatment, as he quickly moved to close the window and draw the curtains again. “I’ll go make dinner,” he said.
Their life together had settled into a routine over the past year, but the most harmonious interaction they had was undeniably in bed.
Elena’s heat cycle was predictable, showing up like clockwork every three months. Their first experience post-wedding was the kind of encounter she’d remember forever. Despite William’s ineptitude when it came to romance, she couldn't deny his skills in the bedroom.
She thought back to past relationships, realizing that she had never felt this kind of connection—she’d never craved intimacy the way she did now.
Despite their arguments, nothing could disrupt their physical chemistry.
Flipping over, she felt sticky and uncomfortable, remembering how she had ended up naked on his sheets. With a sigh, she considered the need for a little more mutual understanding from him.
After a brisk shower in his bathroom, she threw on one of his oversized T-shirts. She trotted out to the kitchen, where he served up a bowl of egg drop soup.
“Why are you wearing my shirt?” he asked, eyeing her appearance.
“There’s nothing clean in my drawer,” she retorted with a wink. “Besides, you were the one who got me all tangled up inside.”
Well, she had a point. William decided to keep his mouth shut, sensing that Elena had a tone that morning that hinted at growing feistiness post-fight.
“It’s not your heat cycle right now, so your biological system shouldn’t be all that open, right?” He stirred the beef in the soup, trying to divert his mind from the possibility of an unplanned pregnancy.
“Are you kidding? You clearly didn't pay attention in biology class,” she shot back, leaving him momentarily speechless.
Man, he was just trying to play it safe. The idea of them getting pregnant—despite their ongoing marital troubles—could complicate everything.
Dinner was done, and after their earlier romp, Elena felt relieved. Sipping the last drop of soup, she rubbed her stomach and headed back to the bedroom to work on her writing.
Just as she was about to disappear into her creative world, William called after her, “Hey, you’re not going to wash the dishes?”
Ugh, so annoying!
Sigh. They were back at it again—she just wanted to file for divorce.

Chapter 5

William Hightower leaned against the counter in the break room of The Guild of Merchants, his mind elsewhere as he absentmindedly spilled hot water onto the floor for what felt like the hundredth time. Frustrated, he quickly grabbed some paper towels to clean up the mess, wanting to avoid the inevitable disapproving muttering from Aunt Gertrude, the office's ever-watchful cleaning lady.
Today had been a rough day at work, and he had little focus. Dazed, he had sat at his desk until eleven, consumed by thoughts of Elena Rook.
Just yesterday, he had reached his breaking point and asked his wife for a divorce. Though Elena had shockingly agreed, they were thwarted by an overlooked detail: he didn’t have their marriage certificate on hand and ended up being counseled back home by Aunt Gertrude from The Hall of Justice. To add insult to injury, Elena had made her intentions clear later that day by coming to him, and they spent the afternoon entangled in a whirlwind of passion, only to resume their dinner as if nothing had happened.
Their relationship was undeniably peculiar.
They were married, yes, but deep down, William was certain he didn't feel any real affection for Elena. She might not be that keen on him either—he was more drawn to the way she looked, her stunning features and impossibly soft waist.
Lost in thought while crouching on the floor, one of his colleagues from the adjoining office walked in. "What's going on, little William?"
Startled from his reverie, William looked up to see Old Thomas.
"Nothing much, just spilled some water," he replied as he tossed the crumpled paper towels aside and forced a smile.
Old Thomas didn't respond verbally, instead filling a cup with water and handing it to William, a smirk forming as he eyed William's neck.
He patted William on the shoulder. "I get it. I understand."
“Understand what?” William thought as he eyed Old Thomas, a bit skeptical.
“Sounds like the misses is being a little too generous, huh? I can relate,” Old Thomas remarked, an understanding glance in his eye, as if they shared a great secret.
“No! No, that’s not it! You’re just talking nonsense.”
With a teasing gesture, Old Thomas pointed to William’s neck, which bore a vivid hickey.
“C’mon, man. You can't hide that. It looks like a sign of a really fun night. Fans of affection, right?”
“Seriously?” William felt the heat rise in his cheeks, his embarrassment mounting. “All this fuss over one little mistake? What happens in private should stay private.”
“Well, you have my envy. My wife barely conserves energy for that sort of thing.” Old Thomas sighed exaggeratedly. “It’s like I’m back in the dating phase, taking cold showers.” After a few more compliments on how stunning Elena was and a few chuckles about his remarkable luck, Old Thomas finally took his leave.
“People just love to gossip.” William straightened his clothes in front of the mirror, ensuring that Elena's handiwork was sufficiently concealed before heading back to his desk.
Even as a man, receiving such compliments had its perks. Yet, William felt conflicted. On one hand, he resented Elena Rook's laziness when it came to housework; on the other, he appreciated her 'dedicated' nature in private. Every day felt like an internal battle between staying married and seeking freedom, and it left him drained.
Returning to his office, William barely settled into his chair before hearing from his assistant, Livia. “Hey William, you’ve got a trip to The Far Lands this afternoon. The project manager insists he wants you personally involved for a meeting.”
He hadn’t even had lunch yet and rushed back home to grab his things. As soon as he opened the door, a delicious aroma wafted through the air.
Elena Rook, donned in a light blue checkered apron she had surprisingly bought from the grocery store, was hard at work, stirring a pot on the stove. The bubbling concoction was a mix of large tomato chunks and scattered bits of egg. William took a moment to appreciate the view from the doorway; Elena had yet to notice his return. Stepping in, he pressed the fan's boost button and lifted the pot’s lid.
“Cover it for a bit, don’t overcook those tomatoes,” he said, his voice a blend of warmth and unease as he caught her eye with a lingering gaze.

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