Jihan’s POV
A week after that visit—after the tension, the shouting, the silent dinners, and the weight that seemed to permanently settle on our house—we were contacted again.
This time, it wasn’t my Abeoji’s family.
It was my Appa’s.
When Appa told us they wanted to apologize and invite us over for dinner, I felt something unfamiliar bloom in my chest.
Cautious hope.
Not the fragile kind that shatters instantly, but something warmer—something that felt like maybe, just maybe, not every branch of our family tree was rotten.
“They said they want to make things right,” Appa said quietly, fingers worrying the hem of his sweater.
“They know they’ve been distant. They know they hurt us.”
Abeoji didn’t say much.
He only nodded, jaw tight, but his scent was calmer than it had been in weeks.
That alone felt like a miracle.
Their house was just as large as my Abeoji’s parents’ mansion—tall gates, long driveway, warm lights glowing from wide windows—but the moment we stepped inside, it felt different.
Homey.
There were framed photos everywhere.
Old family portraits mixed with candid ones.
Laughter frozen in time.
A faint scent of soup and baked bread lingered in the air, wrapping around us like a blanket.
My grandparents rushed to greet us.
“My goodness,” my Appa’s mother said, hands fluttering to her mouth as she looked at me and Chansoo.
“Look at you two. You’ve grown so much.”
She pulled me into a hug without hesitation, her scent gentle and comforting.
“You must be Jihan. Such a handsome omega. Your Appa used to talk about you all the time.”
Chansoo didn’t even have time to react before my Appa’s father clapped a warm hand on his shoulder.
“And this must be Chansoo. Strong posture. Good eyes. You’ll be a fine alpha.”
I watched my little brother carefully.
For the first time in weeks—no, months—he smiled.
Not the polite, strained smile he’d been forcing lately, but a real one.
His shoulders loosened.
His eyes softened.
Something inside me ached painfully.
They spoke to us gently throughout the evening.
They asked about school, about my music, about Chansoo’s interests.
They cooed at us shamelessly, complimented everything from my manners to Chansoo’s height.
“You both must have worked so hard,” my grandmother said, pressing extra food onto our plates.
“Your parents did well raising you.”
I caught Chansoo glancing at me from across the table, his lips curved into a small, genuine grin.
That night, lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling and made myself a promise.
If Chansoo ever asked me to change places with him—to take his burden instead—I would do it.
I would rather marry a stranger than watch my baby brother be forced into something he didn’t want.
Especially when I knew there was someone he already cared for.
Someone he wanted to court, slowly and properly, the way he’d always talked about with that shy excitement he thought no one noticed.
__________________
Weeks passed too quickly after that.
Too quickly.
The date of Chansoo’s official meeting crept closer.
Everyone insisted it wasn’t an engagement yet—just a formal introduction, just families talking—but we all knew what it meant.
Christmas was nearing too.
Decorations began appearing in the streets, lights blinking softly at night.
The air turned colder.
And still… Chansoo wouldn’t speak to me.
My birthday came and went without a single word from him.
Two months.
Two months of silence.
I stopped trying to talk to him after a while.
It hurt too much.
I didn’t want to force him into forgiveness he wasn’t ready to give.
Still, every time I passed his room, my chest tightened painfully.
That’s why I was so surprised when I saw him standing outside my door one evening.
He looked… lost.
Like he wasn’t sure whether to knock or run away.
“Chansoo?” I asked softly.
He swallowed.
“Can I… come in?”
I nodded immediately, stepping aside.
The room felt awkward with both of us in it again.
We sat on the couch, facing each other, knees almost touching but not quite.
Silence stretched painfully between us.
“I’m sorry,” we said at the same time.
Our eyes met.
“I’m sorry this is happening,” I said quickly, afraid I’d lose my courage.
“Abeoji doesn’t want to risk me because I’m an omega.”
Chansoo shook his head hard.
“No, hyung. I’m sorry. I didn’t understand at first. I just thought… why me? But now I get it. I don’t want you getting hurt either. I don’t want some alpha forcing things on you.”
He looked down, fists clenched.
“I can’t even stand imagining someone taking advantage of you.”
My throat burned.
“Of course I’m sad,” he continued quietly.
“But it’s not like… it’s not like I’ve started courting her.
Maybe we’re not meant to be.”
“Or maybe you are,” I said softly, “and you just have to stop being obedient and run away.”
His head snapped up.
“I mean it,” I rushed on.
“The engagement isn’t official.
You could leave.
Disappear for a while.
Come back when everything settles.”
“Hyung,” he whispered.
“They might force you into it.”
I shook my head.
“It’s okay. I don’t think our grandparents would choose someone cruel for me.”
He moved closer.
“Are you sure?”
“I am.” I smiled sadly.
“Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
He nodded, then leaned forward and hugged me tightly.
I missed him so much.
That night, we slept side by side like we used to when we were younger, limbs tangled, breathing steady.
Our parents watched us quietly from the doorway, relief softening their expressions.
They didn’t know what was coming.
Neither did I.
__________________
A few days later, I woke to chaos.
Voices echoed through the house—panicked, frantic.
Phones ringing unanswered.
I stepped out of my room and immediately knew.
“Chansoo-yah?” I called out, heart racing.
Appa turned toward me, eyes red.
“We can’t reach him,” he said, pulling me into a tight hug.
“He left a note. He said he’d be gone for a while.”
My chest ached.
“She’ll find out soon,” Appa whispered.
“Your grandmother. We’re scared she’ll find him.”
I already knew.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” I asked softly.
Abeoji looked at me sharply.
“You knew about this?”
“He mentioned it,” I admitted, looking down.
“I didn’t know he’d leave so soon.”
Appa sighed.
“It’s okay. We failed you both once already.”
Abeoji smiled sadly.
“Let’s just hope he’s safe.”
I nodded.
I knew Chansoo would be.
And I knew… this wasn’t the end.
Just the beginning.