In this society, the Government’s Genetic Matching Program assigned me two Beast-kin brothers as life partners. Every night, I used to prepare two glasses of warm milk. Caleb, the older brother, was stoic and distant, but he would always accept the glass politely and offer a quiet thanks. Silas, the younger one, had a volatile temper. He would often smash the glass or lash out at me with biting words. I prided myself on being impartial. I balanced my attention between them perfectly, trying to be the perfect peacemaker. Until my best friend witnessed it one day. She looked at me with a pained expression and said: "Don't you think that by being 'fair' to both, you're actually being incredibly unfair to the one who actually treats you with respect?" I thought about her words all day. She was right. That night, I walked out of the kitchen with only one glass of milk in my hand. 1. Caleb was the first to notice the change. He didn’t say a word. He simply took the glass as usual and thanked me softly. Silas, sitting on the sofa nearby, was mindlessly playing a video game. It wasn't until I stood up, said goodnight, and started walking toward the bedroom that he realized something was wrong. "Hey," he barked, not looking up. "Did we run out of milk? Or are you too broke to afford two glasses now?" Unlike Caleb’s quiet reserve, Silas was like a prehistoric predator—loud, arrogant, and sharp. He tossed his controller aside, his eyes narrowing with a familiar cruelty. "If you're going blind, just say so. Can't you see I'm sitting right here?" He never spoke to me with an ounce of kindness. Any desire I had to explain myself evaporated. My smile faded, and I gave a curt reply. "We have milk." "Then why the hell did you only bring out one glass? Who are you trying to spite?" Spite? I thought back to a few nights ago. Caleb and Silas had been called out on an emergency tactical mission for the Special Forces. They didn't get home until 1:00 AM. I had waited up so long that I’d fallen asleep on the sofa. When the door opened, I jumped up to reheat the dinner I’d kept warm for them. Like always, I prepared two glasses of milk. Silas looked exhausted. I noticed a gash on his shoulder and stepped forward, worried, reaching out to check on him. He shoved me away with an impatient snarl. Beast-kin strength is no joke; I was sent stumbling, and the glass of milk shattered across the hardwood floor. Silas froze for a split second, then his face contorted back into a scowl. "Damn it, are you blind? Can't you see I'm checking my messages? Stop hovering over me. You're pathetic." He leaned back, his voice dripping with disgust. "The constant 'doting wife' act was annoying enough before. I’m exhausted, I just got home, and I have to deal with you acting like a desperate puppy. It’s draining." In his eyes, my concern was nothing more than a desperate performance. I felt the sting of shame rise in my chest. My face burned. Without looking up, I stumbled back to my room. I heard a muffled grunt from the living room—Caleb had punched Silas. A moment later, Caleb came in with a first-aid kit and knelt before me. It was only then I realized a shard of glass had sliced my calf, and blood was trailing down to my ankle. 2. I’ve always known how the Sterling brothers felt about me. To the outside world, I was the one who hit the jackpot. They were the golden boys of the Beast-kin Academy—elite soldiers, stunningly handsome, and incredibly powerful. They were the apex predators of high society. I, on the other hand, was plain, quiet, and unremarkable. A weed growing in the shadow of giants. If it weren't for our freakishly high genetic compatibility score, the Government would never have matched us. We would have lived in different universes. At first, I was thrilled. Having grown up in the foster system, all I ever wanted was a family. I naively thought Caleb and Silas were the family the universe had finally granted me. No matter how cold they were or how much they looked down on me, I acted like I didn't feel it. I remained warm, doting, and eager to please. Every time they ate a meal I prepared, I felt a surge of worth. I felt needed. But the first six months were brutal. Both of them resented the match. Their rivals in the military teased them for being paired with a "nobody." For two men with egos as high as theirs, it was a humiliation. They took that frustration out on me. Caleb was at least stable; he treated me like I was invisible, maintaining a cold, professional distance. Silas, however, was a firestorm. He criticized everything from my looks to the way I walked. In his mouth, I was a "useless waste of space." But then, slowly, things seemed to change. Caleb stopped treating me like a ghost. He began to thank me for the milk. Sometimes, he would reach out and ruffle my hair, a gesture of affection common among Beast-kin couples. I was so starved for it that I was practically overwhelmed. Even Silas started mocking me less. He’d occasionally drag me into his video games, yelling at me for being a "noob" while simultaneously headshotting anyone who tried to kill my character. I thought I had finally reached them. I thought my hard work was paying off. Until the glass shattered. All those months of effort and hope were condensed into three words: A desperate puppy. 3. I didn't sleep well for days after that. The shame followed me everywhere. I began to avoid them both, moving through the house like a shadow. When my best friend heard about it, she was livid. I stared at my sleeves, picking at a loose thread. "It’s fine. I’ve made up my mind. I’ll just keep my distance. We’ll be civil, and that’s it." The match was a legal contract. I provided the emotional stability they needed during their "heat" cycles, and they provided the status and security I needed. It was just an exchange. "Are you still going to bring them milk?" she asked. I thought about it. "I suppose. I should maintain some level of decency." She hesitated, then said, "Don't you think it's a bit unfair if you keep giving them both the same thing?" Fair? Because Caleb and Silas are identical twins and our compatibility is so high, the social workers at the Matching Bureau emphasized one thing: Balance. "In a multi-Beast household, the Human partner must be the anchor," they told me. "You have to be perfectly fair. Any favoritism will trigger their instincts, cause jealousy, and break the balance of the home." I took that to heart. I measured everything. Two glasses of milk. Two sets of gifts. Even when I packed their lunches, I counted the pieces of shrimp to make sure they were identical. "But Silas was the only one who treated you like trash," my friend pointed out. "Caleb didn't say a word. In fact, he defended you." I looked down at the bandage on my leg. Caleb had knelt on the floor that night. He had been so serious while cleaning the wound. He gave me a piece of chocolate from his pocket, wiped my tears, and stayed until I fell asleep. He even apologized for his brother. "Exactly," she continued. "They treat you completely differently, yet they get the same reward. If I were Caleb—the 'good' one—I’d feel like my kindness didn't matter. Is that fair?" I wanted to argue, but I didn't know how. That night, I couldn't stop thinking about a time at the orphanage. A volunteer asked for help moving boxes. Everyone else went to play, but I stayed and worked all afternoon until my hands were red. At the end, we all got the same backpacks as a reward. Even the kid who spent the whole afternoon chasing butterflies got one. But as the volunteer was leaving, she pulled me aside and pressed two small hair clips into my hand. "The backpack is for everyone," she whispered. "But these are for you. A well-behaved child deserves an extra reward. That’s what’s actually fair." The volunteer’s words fought with the social worker’s instructions in my head. Finally, the volunteer won. 4. The milk was just the beginning. In the evenings, I stopped sitting exactly in the middle of the sofa. I sat closer to Caleb, leaving a clear gap between me and Silas. I stopped saying "Good morning" to Silas. I only offered a soft smile to Caleb. If I had a question, I asked Caleb. If we went to a party, I only took Caleb’s arm. Even at dinner, I was blatantly biased. If there were ten shrimp, eight went onto Caleb’s plate. At first, I was terrified. Breaking the "balance" felt like walking a tightrope. But the change wasn't what I expected. Caleb, though quiet, never made me feel small. When I sat near him, he would naturally rest a hand on my wrist or ask if I wanted a snack. When I said good morning, he’d ask how I slept. He ate every bite of my food and thanked me sincerely. By stopping my attempts to win over Silas, I stopped being pushed away. I wasn't ignored anymore. I wasn't embarrassed on the street by a partner who was ashamed to hold my hand. I didn't have to listen to my cooking being called "trash." I hid behind Caleb's quiet strength and enjoyed the peace. But the atmosphere in the house turned... weird. Several times, I felt a gaze burning into my back. But when I turned around, Silas was just staring at the TV, looking bored. If he caught me looking, he’d sneer. "What? You want to play a game? You're going to lose anyway." In the past, I would have taken that as an invitation and jumped at the chance to spend time with him. Now, I just shook my head and went back to what I was doing. One afternoon, Caleb and I were heading out to play badminton—my new favorite hobby. As we reached the door, a loud crash came from the living room. I turned back. Silas had smashed his controller against the floor. He looked at us with dark, narrowed eyes, his gaze landing on where my hand was tucked into Caleb’s arm. "Brother," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "This is getting pathetic. You're actually enjoying the 'good guy' act, aren't you? Acting like you actually like this loser." 5. "Loser." "Ugly." "Waste of space." I hadn't heard those words in a while. When we were first matched, Silas's hatred was public. He had even fought with the Bureau staff to have the match overturned. It wasn't until the first time I helped them through their "heat." That’s the only time I see their Beast forms. The fierce, terrifying snow leopards of the military become like giant housecats. They purr. They nuzzle me. They call me "Wife" and fight over who gets to sleep with their head in my lap. I used to blush at the affection. My friend told me that during these moments, even the coldest Beast-kin softens. After those cycles, Silas stopped attacking my looks. I thought I had finally won him over. But it was just a physical reaction. I told myself that Silas was just young and spoiled. I had hurt his pride by choosing Caleb, so he was lashing out. But even with that logic, the "loser" comment stung. I couldn't sleep. I got up to get a glass of water. The balcony light was on. Caleb and Silas were out there. One was standing by the railing, the other leaning against the wall. The glow of a cigarette flickered. I stood in the shadows of the hallway and listened.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "390868", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel