"I'm carrying a pup!" Cherry bites her tongue as something bitter curls in her chest at the omegas announcement, Mike's honey scent dripping with pleasure. She offers a smile, trying to ignore the way Angela's citrus scent absolutely whips up in a frenzy, her wife jumping to her feet with a gasp.
"No! Really?!" Angela sounds so so excited, a massive grin splitting her face and her hands are already on the omega, wrists pressed against his scent glands in welcome.
Cherry remains in her chair, carefully holding her composure, setting her fork back down soundlessly and blinking her eyes rapidly to keep tears out of them. Her parents are sat beside her, her mother pressing a hand against the small of her back under the table where it wouldn't go noticed, she wouldn't know why Cherry was upset, but Cherry welcomed her support anyway.
Mirabel, Cherry's beloved daughter who's sat on her grandfather; Tim Shepard's lap, giggles and reaches out for Angela as she steps back from Mike, standing between the omega and Tim's chair. "Papa!"
Curly is already leaning over and draping an arm across Mike's shoulders, drenching the omega in his cinnamon scent from his seat on the other side of him, mouth open and fangs bared in claiming; as if he thought he could convince everyone that he was the sire.
Cherry wasn't that stupid.
Her jaw tight and a forced smile on her lips as her eyes dart from where her wife is now holding their daughter to Mike, "Congratulations." The words taste like rotten milk, and she knows her tone isn't the most affectionate, but what else was she supposed to do?
What else was expected of her, when her wife was staying out late into the evening and leaving again early on the morning, always soaked in the scent of honey? To be told that the omega her wife was always hanging around was pregnant, and be expected to believe someone else was the sire, it was insulting, and it hurt so fucking much.
This is When it Starts, From the Beating of Your Heart 'Till the Street Lamps Talk to you. - Angela/Cherry WIP
