Page 59 of Wisteria and Cloves
"The truth. That I value quality time and physical touch." I ran a hand through my hair, still processing our conversation. "She's observant—immediately connected that, to why I stayed while she ate."
Nicolaus made another note on his tablet. "Her social intelligence is remarkable, especially considering how it's been systematically undermined by her upbringing."
"What about your assessment of her love language?" Julian asked, leaning forward with interest. "Were you able to gauge what she likes?”
I nodded slowly, considering what I'd observed. "She specifically mentioned feeling understood by Christopher's kintsugi stone, safe when Julian helped her through the panic attack without forcing her to calm down, and respected when Nicolaus spoke to her as an equal this morning."
"Understanding, safety, and respect," Nicolaus summarized, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against his tablet. "Those aren'ttraditional love languages—they're more fundamental needs that were systematically denied in her upbringing."
Christopher finished putting away the leftovers, his movements purposeful yet gentle. "It makes sense. How can someone receive love through words of love when they've only hard criticism? Or through touch when it's been used to control rather than comfort?"
"We're building from the ground up," Julian said quietly. "Establishing basic safety and respect before we can even approach romantic connection.”
"Exactly," I agreed, pushing away from the counter to help Christopher with the dishes.
"What concerns me," Julian said, his voice dropping lower, "is what other triggers we haven't discovered yet. If breaking a bowl caused that level of panic..."
"There will be others," I acknowledged, handing Christopher a clean dish to dry. "We can't predict them all. What matters is how we respond when they happen."
Christopher's eyes remained troubled as he methodically dried each plate. "I can't stop thinking about her kneeling on broken glass. What kind of mother woulddothat to theirchild.”
The kitchen fell silent at Christopher's words, each of us processing the horror of what Lilianna had endured. I set down the dish I was washing, my hands trembling slightly with suppressed rage.
"A mother who saw her daughter as a reflection of her own status rather than a person," Nicolaus said quietly, his clinical tone not quite masking the fury beneath. "Control through pain and humiliation."
Julian's jaw worked as he visibly struggled with his emotions. "The psychological damage from that kind of systematic abuse..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "She apologized to us.For breaking a five-dollar bowl, she apologized like she expected us to hurt her."
"Which means it's happened before," I said grimly, the pieces clicking together in ways that made my stomach churn. "This wasn't an isolated incident. This was a pattern."
Christopher's grip tightened on the plate in his hands, “She has an older brother…do you think it is the same…or because she is an Omega?”
"Both," Nicolaus answered without hesitation, his analytical mind cutting straight to the heart of the matter. "But I'd wager the treatment was worse for Lilianna because she's an Omega. In families like hers, sons are investments to be cultivated, daughters are commodities to be managed."
The clinical accuracy of his assessment made my chest tighten with protective fury. "So her brother probably got the discipline, while she received the systematic breaking down."
"Exactly," Nicolaus confirmed, making another note. "Different forms of control for different purposes. Her brother needed to be shaped into a successful Alpha, while Lilianna needed to be made compliant and decorative."
Julian stood abruptly, pacing to the window to stare out at the darkening garden. “Do you think we are the right pack for this?”
The question hung in the air like a challenge, and I felt something fierce rise in my chest at the suggestion we might not be enough for her.
"Are you having doubts?" Nicolaus asked, his voice carefully neutral as he studied Julian's rigid posture.
Julian turned from the window, his hazel eyes blazing with an intensity I rarely saw. "No doubts about wanting her, but I have doubts about whether we can give her what she needs. What if we make mistakes? What… what if we trigger her without meaning to? What if—"
"Julian," Christopher interrupted gently, setting down his dish towel. "We're going to make mistakes. That's inevitable when helping someone heal from trauma this extensive."
"But what if our mistakes hurt her more?" Julian's voice cracked slightly, revealing the depth of his concern. "She's already been broken by people who were supposed to protect her. What if we break her further.”
"We won't," I said firmly, moving to stand beside Julian at the window. "Because we're asking these questions. Because we care enough to worry about hurting her. Her parents never had that concern."
Nicolaus closed his tablet with a soft click, his blue eyes serious as he regarded Julian. "The difference between us and her parents is intent. They broke her deliberately, systematically. Any mistakes we make will come from a place of care, not control."
"And she'll know the difference," Christopher added, his voice carrying quiet conviction. "She's already learning to distinguish between the two. Look how she responded to each of us today—she's developing trust despite twenty-three years of conditioning."
Julian's shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of responsibility evident in every line of his body. "I've never felt this protective of anyone. When I saw her panic, when I realized what her mother had done..." He ran both hands through his hair, leaving it disheveled. "I wanted to drive to her parents' house and make thempayfor every moment ofpainthey caused her," Julian finished, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. "That's not like me, Idon'tlose control."
"It's not losing control," I said quietly, understanding flooding through me. "It's love. Or the beginning of it."
