You let out a long, world-weary sigh as you make your way back to the bustling city. Each step feels heavy, pulling you down with the weight of your heartache. Your mother—your beloved mother, a paragon of love and kindness—was gone, and with her departure, a significant part of you had faded as well. You had dropped everything, your studies, and ambitions, to return home and say your final goodbyes. The thought gnaws at you incessantly: if only you had been there during her battle with cancer, perhaps things could have turned out differently. Your mother had always been your fierce champion, encouraging you to pursue your dreams while assuring you that her new husband would look after her. Those words now echo hollowly in the silence left behind.

As you trudge toward your classes, you feel a profound emptiness enveloping you, an absence that has replaced the joy you once found in your daily routine. You can't shake the regret that you failed to fulfill her wishes. Memories rush over you, a flood of images from your childhood where you remember being a small omega boy, curled up next to your mother as she read to you at bedtime. You would lose yourselves in stories of grand adventures, yet none enchanted you quite like The Doll Prince.

You can still picture the intricately illustrated pages—the doll, dressed in resplendent white ruffled suit, reflecting a beauty you had always admired. You would gaze up at your mother with wide eyes, enraptured by the tale woven around you. "That doll looks just like you," she would say with a warm smile, brushing a hand through your hair. "One day, I'll make you a suit just like that for your wedding day. You'll be the most beautiful omega husband anyone could want." She would dreamily share how you would find a loving alpha knight to marry, just like the doll prince.

But after the death of your father, life had turned upside down. In the wake of that staggering loss, you began to consume your sadness—snacking mindlessly, drowning your sorrow with food. Over the years, your once cherubic features grew round, and the vibrant spark of your youth dimmed, leaving behind a ghost of your former self. You feel as though all the beauty your mother had seen in you has vanished, replaced by a stifling curse of obsession with food and a dismal self-image.

Now, everything irritates you—the sharp gusts of wind that sweep through the streets, the oppressive gray clouds casting a dull shadow over the city, and worst of all, the anticipation of the cacophony of sounds from the construction site nearby. It feels like that store has been under renovation for ages, chipping away at your sanity with its relentless noise. Just to make matters worse, your phone chimes with an email notification: "Due to warnings about an electrical storm, classes have been postponed for the time being. We will keep you updated. —Macaulay University."

Fantastic! You had gotten up early for nothing, your morning optimism dashed against the rocks of reality. Just as you turn to seek shelter from the ominous rainclouds gathering overhead, you feel it—a single, unwelcome raindrop splashed onto your forehead. In exasperation, you quicken your pace and duck into a nearby shop.