Page 65 of Omega's Fire

“I think you’ve been ready for weeks,” she says. “You just needed a reason to realize it.”

She’s probably right. The fatigue is still there, the bone-deep exhaustion that comes with growing another person, but underneath it, I can feel something else stirring. Purpose, maybe. Or just the simple desire to be useful again.

“I’ll need to figure out what to wear,” I muse. “Nothing fits quite right anymore.”

“We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” Mom says decisively. “Get you something that makes you feel confident.”

Thursday arrives with unseasonable warmth. I spend extra time getting ready, grateful for the new suit Mom helped me find—charcoal gray with subtle stretch. I look professional, put-together.

The drive to the studio is smooth, Mom chatting about innocuous things to keep my nerves at bay. She’s gotten good at reading my moods these past weeks, knowing when to push and when to provide distraction.

“You’ll be brilliant,” she says as we pull up to the building.“Call me when you’re done, and we’ll get dinner somewhere nice to celebrate.”

Inside, a production assistant guides me through the maze of corridors. The makeup room is soothing—soft lighting, comfortable chairs, someone fussing over my appearance with gentle hands.

“You have great bone structure,” the makeup artist comments, dusting powder across my cheeks. “The camera’s going to love you.”

I doubt that, but I appreciate the boost to my confidence. By the time she’s done, I look like a polished version of myself—the dark circles hidden, skin glowing with something that might actually be that elusive pregnancy radiance everyone talks about.

“Ready?” Jennifer appears at the door. “David’s on set whenever you are.”

The studio is smaller than I expected, intimate almost. Just two chairs angled toward each other, warm lighting that’s less harsh than I’d anticipated. David Glass rises as I enter, extending his hand with a genuine smile.

“Leo Torres,” he says warmly. “Thank you for joining us. I’ve been following you with great interest.”

“Thank you for having me,” I reply, settling into the offered chair. The leather is soft, comfortable. I can do this.

“We’ll keep things conversational,” Glass explains. “I want our viewers to understand your experience, your perspective. Nothing gotcha, just honest discussion.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Excellent. We’re live in five minutes.”

I take a breath, centering myself. The baby chooses this moment to shift. I place a hand briefly on my belly, then fold both in my lap as the red light illuminates.

“Good evening. I’m David Glass, and welcome to Point ofContention. Tonight, I’m joined by Leo Torres, whose challenge to the Bureau’s prime matching system has sparked national dialogue about omega rights. Leo, thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for having me.”

The audience applauds politely, and I’m suddenly aware of all those eyes on me. But this is what I wanted—a chance to get there again.

“Let’s start with your case. You were designated to a ninety-eight percent compatibility match—extraordinarily rare. And not just any match, but with Dr. Nash Thorndike himself. What was your reaction when you learned who your match was?”

I pause, then answer honestly. “Shock. Fury. I thought it was a set up.”

“But the compatibility score was undeniable,” Glass presses. “Ninety-eight percent. Did that give you any pause?”

“I didn’t believe it,” I say firmly. “It seemed so unlikely. And even if it was true, it didn’t matter anyway. I want to choose who I marry.”

“Yet Dr. Thorndike is, by all accounts, highly accomplished. Attractive, successful, at the top of his field. Some would say you won the match lottery.”

I feel heat rise in my cheeks. “That’s exactly the problem. It doesn’t matter how accomplished or attractive someone is if you’re forced to be with them.”

The audience murmurs approval, and I feel myself gaining confidence.

Glass nods thoughtfully. “You spent two weeks in Bureau-mandated cohabitation with Dr. Thorndike before leaving. Can you tell us about that experience?”

I pause, choosing my words carefully. “It was dehumanizing,” I say. “You’ll have seen the video online. I was taken away in cuffs. That should never be the treatment for someone who simply doesn’t want to get married.”

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