Fuck!!!! I'm Having The Alpha Princess's Baby.

I resumed today officially. I have been coming to the shop, but not frequently enough to keep things the way they were. Henry is the one doing what I used to do: sweeping and mopping the shop until the wood floors shine, feeding Kali, who seems way too fond of Henry lately.

It’s a sight that is kind of disturbing for me and Malo.

We have been observing them from the corner of our eyes. Kali prefers Henry over any of us now. She allows Henry to feed her chocolate, bathe her in the warm sink, and even take her on those weird nighttime backpack strolls through the alleyways. We have seen Henry talking to Kali, his voice low and rhythmic, like he’s telling her secrets. We have never heard Kali talk to us, not in words anyway, but she does understand what we say. One time, we saw Henry and the snake playing board games on the rug. Kali wrapped herself around Henry’s neck like some fucking accessory, her head resting right against his pulse point while he moved a plastic piece across the board.

None of us were happy about it. Watching their bond grow felt like a weight in my chest. It brought jealousy within us, seeing Henry becoming Kali’s favorite when she belongs to me and Malo.

We complained to Uncle PP, leaning over the counter while he sorted through dried roots. He just gave us a look over his new shaved mustache now looking younger than when he had mustache, he said Kali likes those who have free spirits and don’t use her for personal gains. When PP said that last part, he looked at us like he knew exactly what we did with Kali when he was not around.

That wasn’t me, though. The first time Kali ate those bandits, it was a surprise to me, a messy, terrifying surprise. I didn’t even like it or the idea of taking Kali around for protection like some weapon. It was all Malo, who saw her as some bodyguard anaconda snake, something to take around and unleash when things got hairy.

Today was Henry’s day off, so he took Kali to the mall, probably letting her peek out of his bag at the shoppers, while Uncle PP and I had somewhere to be.

We visited one of his patients, whom he has been treating for ten years now. She was a middle-aged woman in her late fifties, her skin looking like thin parchment. She lived alone in a bungalow, and PP made herbs to treat her illness every week.

This wasn’t the first time I had visited her. Looking at the way she struggled in that armchair, coughing out blood into a handkerchief most of the time... it was hard to watch.

PP made medicine to stop the bleeding for a short period, a temporary fix that acted like a band-aid on a bullet wound, but the sickness never truly left her.

I had asked PP if my blood could help, thinking maybe the moon wolf in me could jumpstart her heart, but he said only temporarily. It wasn’t enough to cure her illness. I even asked if I could try biting her to give her a new life, to turn her into something that could survive the rot, but PP said sometimes the bite makes things worse. Risking it could kill her right there on the rug, her body unable to handle the change.

Seems like having powers does have limits. I can’t cure everyone. I can’t raise the dead just because I feel sorry for them. These are the kinds I would rather use my powers on, helping the sick.

Uncle PP told me how Sasha became my beta, actually my first beta. We were 9 years old, and Uncle used to babysit me sometimes in the back of the shop. At that time, he was dating Sasha’s big sister, Shelley. Sasha was always running a temperature, skipping school because her body couldn’t cope with the world. Her system was failing her, her organs just giving up.

Scared she might lose her only family, Shelley made PP awaken my moon wolf powers. I don’t remember it vividly, but I do remember always hanging around his shop when I was little, the shelves reaching up toward the ceiling.

PP made me bite Sasha with my fangs, risking everything even though it was the first time and it could fail spectacularly.

They killed her. They let her heart stop so the process could begin, 50/50 risk.

And luckily, she became my first beta. She woke up stronger, the fever gone, with additional powers.

They also broke up after that. The secret was too heavy. PP gave Shelley an ultimatum, a choice between the life they had and the secret they kept, and she chose her sister. She chose Sasha.

That’s one of the reasons why Paye doesn’t talk to PP, because according to Paye, our mother blocked my powers so I wouldn’t be seen. I was never supposed to awaken them, never supposed to carry this weight, but PP did it anyway. He broke the seal.

When PP was done with her medicine, grinding and mixing the herbs with a stone mortar and pestle, the rhythmic thumping filling the small room, he gave Ms. Martha the medicine. I stood by the window, my eyes scanning around the room, looking at the cluttered shelves and the dust motes dancing in the light.

I spotted a photo of a younger Ms. Martha with another woman by the beachside. The photo was taken late at night, the halfmoon reflecting off the waves. The lady looked beautiful, with a sharp jawline and deep eyes, just as young Ms. Martha did. Then my eyes moved to another photo: a middle-aged Ms. Martha with the same woman. Same face, different hair color and style, but the eyes were identical. It was like the woman hadn’t aged a single day.

"You look beautiful here," I said, pointing at the younger photo. My voice sounded small in the quiet house.

Ms. Martha stretched out her thin hands for the frame, and I gave it to her, the glass cold against my fingers.

She stared at her younger self and the girl, touching the photo frame like old memories were replaying in her head, her thumb tracing the lines of the young lay’s face.

"She looks beautiful as always... my girl, my love, my forever after..." she said before coughing into a handkerchief, a splash of red appearing on the white fabric.

Looking at her made me pity her condition. She was fading away while the woman in the photo stayed frozen in time.

"Look at her... same as always," she muttered, her eyes glazed over.

I took a proper look at the woman beside her in the picture. Something told me I had seen that face before, the tilt of the head and the way she smiled with only half her mouth. I couldn’t remember where, but it felt like a ghost of a memory. I just smiled at the photo, trying to be polite.

"Was she your wife?" I asked.

"Yes, she is my wife," she muttered gracefully, a small spark of pride in her tired eyes.

Hearing the word is made me realize her wife was still around somewhere. It made me wonder why she wasn’t here with Ms. Martha, especially now when she was so sick. As far as I knew, Ms. Martha had no one around her. No children to visit. No pets to keep her company. She lived alone in this big, quiet house.

But I didn’t push the question. I saw the way she clutched the photo and decided to stay quiet. It felt wrong wanting to know about Ms. Martha’s private life, like I was digging into something too sacred to touch.

After attending to Uncle PP’s patient, we went back to the shop.

Henry and Kali were already back from their mall shopping. Henry was sitting on a stool, and Kali was draped over his shoulders, her scales shimmering in the shop lights. I stayed around for a while, watching them, feeling that weird pang of jealousy again, before finally deciding it was time to go home.