Alpha's Regret: Claiming My Stolen Twins

Seraphina’s POV

I stood in the living room, methodically folding clothes from the laundry basket when a familiar sound froze my movements. The metallic click of our front door lock turning, followed by the slow creak of hinges.

"Daddy!" Two small voices erupted in pure joy.

"My precious ones!" Julian’s voice boomed through the house, rich and warm in a way I hadn’t heard in weeks.

His laughter filled every corner of the room, deep and genuine, the kind that used to make my heart flutter. Now it just made my chest ache with longing.

I heard the soft thud of bodies hitting the living room carpet, followed by delighted squeals.

"You’re squishing me!" Julian groaned dramatically. "Someone help! I’m under attack by wild little monsters!"

Standing frozen beside our couch, I clutched a small shirt against my chest like armor. Through the doorway, I watched the scene unfold. Despite the arctic silence that had settled between us recently, despite all the walls he’d built around himself, Julian remained an incredible father.

The love radiating from him as he played with our children was undeniable. Beautiful, yes, but also painful to witness. His attention belonged entirely to them now. Not once did his gaze search for mine.

"Did you bring presents?" our son Theo demanded, bouncing on Julian’s chest.

"I brought the best gift of all," Julian replied, his fingers finding ticklish spots on Theo’s ribs. "Me! Isn’t that more than enough?"

"Never!" both children shrieked through their giggles.

For the next hour, I remained a silent observer. Julian constructed elaborate block towers with Elena while Theo knocked them down. He rolled across the carpet with them, letting himself be conquered by their tiny hands. The house hummed with an energy I’d almost forgotten existed.

For those precious minutes, we felt like a real family again.

"Dinner time, everyone," I finally announced, my voice carrying a tremor I hoped no one noticed.

We gathered around our dining table. The aroma of yesterday’s roast chicken leftovers, courtesy of my parents, filled the space between us.

The meal passed in an uncomfortable rhythm.

Elena chattered endlessly about her artwork. "Daddy, I painted the most beautiful wolf today!"

Theo wasn’t about to be outdone. "And I mastered shoelace tying all by myself!"

Julian absorbed every word they spoke, nodding with genuine interest. "That’s incredible, little man. I’m so proud."

But the moment his attention wasn’t demanded by our children, his expression transformed. His face became a mask of indifference. He studied his plate as if it contained the secrets of the universe. Each bite seemed calculated, mechanical. When I reached for the salt shaker, our fingertips connected briefly, sending familiar electricity up my arm. He jerked away like my touch had scalded him.

The rejection stung, but I maintained my smile for Elena and Theo’s sake.

After dinner, small hands grabbed Julian’s arms from both sides. "Story time! Story time!"

He allowed them to drag him toward their bedroom while I trailed behind, positioning myself in the doorway frame like a ghost haunting my own home.

Julian settled into the old rocking chair we’d bought when Elena was born. He opened a colorful picture book about a bear searching for his missing hat. But he didn’t simply read the words printed on the pages. He became each character, giving the bear a rumbling bass voice and the rabbit a high-pitched squeak. Our children sat mesmerized, their eyelids growing heavier with each page turn.

Within minutes, both had surrendered to sleep.

Julian closed the book with careful silence. He rose from the chair and tucked their blankets snugly around their small forms, pressing gentle kisses to each forehead. The tenderness in his expression could have melted glaciers.

Then he turned and noticed me watching from the doorway.

Instantly, the warmth evaporated from his eyes. The ice returned, sharp and cutting. He brushed past me without acknowledgment, his shoulder grazing mine as he headed for our master bedroom.

I gave him several minutes to settle. I busied myself checking the kitchen, turning off lights, buying time I didn’t really need. Finally, I drew a deep breath and made my way to our room.

Darkness had claimed the space except for silver moonlight streaming through the windows. Julian was already under the covers, lying on his side with his back to the door. His breathing came slow and measured, perfectly even.

He was performing sleep, just as he’d been performing this haunted, distant version of himself. I’d seen the real him emerge with our children. I knew the coldness was an act.

I wouldn’t buy into his charade anymore.

Instead of climbing into my side of the bed, I positioned myself at the foot of the mattress.

"Julian," I whispered.

He remained motionless.

"I know you’re awake," I said more firmly.

His breathing continued its artificial rhythm.

"You can control your breath all you want," I announced louder. "But you’re forgetting something important. I’m a White Wolf. My hearing picks up everything. You’re not fooling anyone."

Silence stretched between us. Then Julian released a long, frustrated sigh that seemed to come from his very soul.

He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling instead of meeting my eyes.

"Just give me one peaceful night, Seraphina," he said, his voice rough with exhaustion. "I’m barely holding it together."

"I’m not here to fight," I assured him.

"Every conversation becomes an argument," he replied. "You’ll demand answers, I’ll lose my temper, and we’ll destroy what’s left. I can’t handle that tonight."

He started turning away again.

I made my choice. I wasn’t letting him retreat.

I crawled across the mattress on hands and knees until I reached his side. Then I collapsed onto my stomach, resting my chin on his chest.

He flinched, staring at me with wide, startled eyes.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I told you," I smiled down at him. "No arguments tonight. Just this."

"Get off," he grumbled without conviction. "You’re crushing me."

"I’m light as air," I protested. "You’re just getting weak in your old age."

I caught the tiny muscle twitch in his jaw. He was fighting his natural responses.

"Seraphina, go to sleep," he said sternly, trying to resurrect his cold mask.

I wasn’t buying it anymore. I reached up and poked his nose with one finger.

He blinked rapidly. "Did you just poke me?"

"Maybe," I admitted, poking his cheek next. "You’ve got this worry line right here. Makes you look like a cranky old grandfather."

"I’m not a grandfather," he snapped, but his voice had lost its edge.

"You’re acting like one," I teased, dropping my voice into a creaky impression. "Grumpy Grandpa Julian, complaining about everything."

Julian stared at me, waging an internal war. He wanted to maintain his anger, his distance. But I was right there in his face, being deliberately silly.

I crossed my eyes and stuck out my tongue.

A short laugh escaped him before he could stop it.

"You’re ridiculous," he muttered.

"And you’re smiling," I pointed out triumphantly.

"I’m not," he lied.

"Yes, you are," I insisted, poking the corner of his mouth. "There it is. I found your smile!"

For several heartbeats, his walls crumbled completely. Julian looked at me with soft, unguarded eyes. A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"You’re so annoying," he whispered, but the words carried no heat. His hand lifted, fingers threading through my hair with electric gentleness.

"I missed you," I whispered back.

Suddenly, Julian went rigid. The smile vanished as if it had never existed. He remembered the role he was supposed to be playing.

His hand dropped away from my hair. His eyes turned flat and cold once more.

He pushed me gently but firmly off his chest.

"Go to sleep, Seraphina," he said, his voice returning to ice. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

He rolled over, presenting his back to me again. He pulled the blanket up to his shoulders, shutting me out completely.

I lay on my side of the bed, staring at his rigid form. My heart ached, but I’d also confirmed my suspicions. He was pretending, performing this coldness. The question that burned in my mind was simple.

Why?