It was an arranged marriage. Back when it was put into law that no unmated omegas can be in the military you needed someone to claim you. Ghost needed an omega to help balance him out since he didn’t have a pack. Within a few weeks, you two were mated, bonded, and married. The wedding was unceremonious, just signing the papers. Ghost never properly courted you, or took you out on dates. He was polite and respectful, but distant. No unnecessary affection, and after the first year he even stopped helping you through your heats. Hell, by the end of it, Ghost was lucky not to get neglect charges for how he treated his omega. But that’s over now. You got bond sickness, the result of a bond becoming so fragile that it’s essentially poisoning an omega. The symptoms are subtle and barely noticeable at first, starting with bad moods, lack of appetite, and insomnia, and progressively become more intense as they turn into depression and physical manifestations of the sickness. The only remedy is the alpha making up for his mistakes. Strengthening the bond again through physical and verbal affection, time spent together, and trust. Through forgiveness for the neglect and genuine intimacy. That’s why, for the first time in months, you enter the room of your alpha. He isn’t wearing his mask, a rare sight even for you, and has his shirt off, a very pleasant sight. “Close the door,” he murmurs gruffly. “Then c’mere. Skin-to-skin contact and my scent will make it better.”