Jihan’s POV
“Say hello, Jihan-ah.”
My grandmother’s voice was smooth, pleasant, practiced—like this was nothing more than a casual family dinner and not the quiet dismantling of my future.
“They are the other Kim family,” she continued, her hand light but firm on my back, guiding me forward.
“Soon, there will only be one Kim family once we unite.”
The words once we unite echoed far too loudly in my head, stretching and distorting until they felt heavy enough to crush my ribs.
I bowed deeply.
Every movement was precise, drilled into my body over the past few days.
Chin lowered just enough.
Hands folded neatly.
Spine straight.
No trembling.
No hesitation.
Control was safety.
“Good evening,” I said softly.
“Oh, Mrs. Kim,” the young alpha said with a chuckle, his tone relaxed, almost amused.
“You know these are just formalities.”
I lifted my gaze.
And something in me shifted.
Not alarm.
Not comfort.
Recognition.
That was when it hit me.
That’s why he’s familiar.
I’d seen him before—not in person, but in passing.
On screens.
In photos I hadn’t lingered on long enough to justify remembering.
The name surfaced slowly, reluctantly, like my mind had been keeping it tucked away on purpose.
Wonbin.
The younger Kim alpha.
The moment our eyes met, the room seemed to narrow.
Not claustrophobic—focused.
Like everything else had dulled slightly around the edges.
His expression didn’t change much.
No smile.
No obvious reaction.
But his gaze sharpened in a way I felt more than saw, steadying on me as if he were anchoring something that had just gone off balance.
My omega responded before I could stop it.
Not loudly.
Not desperately.
Just a quiet pull.
Beside him sat another alpha—older, composed, with kind eyes and a steady presence.
Jaehyun.
And between them, a female omega whose scent was warm and sweet, like honey and citrus.
Comforting.
Domestic.
Normal.
I should have felt relief.
Instead, my attention kept drifting back—unwanted, uninvited—to Wonbin.
“Anyway,” my grandmother said smoothly, breaking the moment, “this is my grandson, Kim Jihan. He’s staying with me for now. He’s been taking very good care of me.”
The lie slid easily from her lips.
I bit back the urge to laugh.
Or cry.
“And,” she added, gaze sharp and deliberate, “I’m hoping you’d welcome him into your family. After all, you have two alphas.”
Something in Wonbin’s posture shifted.
Subtle.
Almost imperceptible.
But I felt it—like a line between us tightening, drawing thin and tense.
My heart stuttered.
All I could do was smile.
Sweet.
Polite.
Trained.
“I think I’m going to like your grandson very much, Mrs. Kim,” the omega said warmly, turning her attention to me.
“Why don’t you come shopping with me next time?”
Shopping.
As if this was already settled.
As if my future had been folded neatly into a calendar slot.
“Ah—sure,” I said, uncertain.
“I’m free anytime.”
She laughed softly.
“Oh dear, call me Aunt Mihyun. No need for formalities when you’ll be family soon.”
Family.
The word lodged itself uncomfortably in my chest, heavy and foreign.
Once we sat down and ordered, I finally allowed myself to breathe—just a little.
My eyes drifted back to the alphas across from me.
Which one?
Jaehyun sat upright, engaged, smiling easily when spoken to.
He asked thoughtful questions.
He listened.
His scent was calm, steady—safe in a way that felt intentional.
Wonbin, on the other hand—
He leaned back slightly, arms loose, gaze wandering like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Detached.
Disinterested.
And yet—
Every so often, his attention returned to me.
Brief.
Controlled.
Enough to make my pulse skip.
His scent wasn’t aggressive.
It didn’t press or overwhelm.
It lingered low and steady, grounding in a way that made my chest ache sharply, like my body was trying to settle into something it recognized as solid.
My omega stirred.
Not frantic.
Curious.
I hated it.
My thoughts fractured when a presence loomed beside me.
The alpha who had escorted us earlier brushed past me—too close.
His hand grazed my wrist.
I stiffened.
It’s nothing, I told myself.
Accidental.
Then it happened again.
This time, his hand slid briefly along my back.
My stomach lurched.
I kept my expression neutral, scent tightly leashed.
I didn’t want attention.
I didn’t want to be seen.
But then—
“Hey.”
Wonbin’s voice cut through the air, sharp and unmistakable.
“Can you hurry up and get out?”
The alpha froze, scowling slightly before retreating.
Only then did I realize I’d been holding my breath.
The thread between us tightened again—taut enough to hurt.
“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asked gently.
I nodded quickly, lowering my gaze.
“Yes.”
A lie.
Conversation resumed, though my appetite vanished.
Jaehyun talked about work, about travel.
Aunt Mihyun laughed, occasionally teasing Wonbin, who responded with quiet, noncommittal hums.
Still, I felt him.
Every shift of his weight.
Every pause in his breathing when my scent wavered.
Then the door opened again.
The same alpha.
He poured drinks slowly—deliberately—making sure mine was last.
Something felt wrong.
My instincts screamed.
Before I could think, Wonbin reached across the table.
His fingers didn’t touch mine—but they came close enough that heat bloomed along my skin anyway.
“Drink this,” he said quietly, swapping our glasses.
“I haven’t touched it.”
My chest tightened painfully.
Not fear.
Something closer to relief.
The alpha glared at him.
I stared down at the glass, hands steady only because I forced them to be.
Soon after, Wonbin stood.
“I have to leave,” he said curtly.
“Something important came up.”
His parents shot him sharp looks.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he added calmly.
“I promise.”
My grandmother smiled knowingly.
“Make sure you do it properly, alpha.”
Wonbin bowed.
Then he looked at me.
Just once.
Long enough to make my pulse stutter and my omega lean forward, traitorous and hopeful.
There was no promise in his gaze.
No claim.
Only recognition.
Like we were both aware of the same invisible string—and equally determined not to pull it yet.
“I like that one,” my grandmother said once he was gone.
Aunt Mihyun laughed.
“Good thing Jaehyun’s already courting someone. We were worried you wouldn’t like Wonbin.”
My grandmother turned to me.
“What do you think, Jihan-ah?”
My face burned.
“I—” I faltered.
Why was I reacting like this?
Why did my omega hum quietly beneath my skin, content and unsettled all at once?
“Yes, my mind whispered traitorously.
Of course you are.
“Well then,” my grandmother said decisively.
“We have a deal.”
And I knew—
Whatever had passed between me and that alpha hadn’t been loud.
But it had been real.
And once a string like that was pulled tight…
It never truly loosened again.
_____________________
The next time I see Wonbin, he doesn’t even look at me.
At first, I tell myself it’s nothing.
The room is too crowded, the lights too bright, the music too loud—surely he just hasn’t noticed me yet.
I only arrived a few minutes ago.
It would be unreasonable to expect him to find me immediately in a sea of people dressed in silk and perfume.
So I wait.
Five minutes pass.
Then ten.
And still—nothing.
No glance.
No flicker of recognition.
Not even the brief, accidental sweep of his gaze in my direction.
The certainty settles slowly, painfully.
He knows I’m here.
I stand near one of the tall cocktail tables, fingers wrapped too tightly around the stem of a glass I haven’t taken a single sip from.
The liquid inside trembles, catching the chandelier light every time my hand shakes.
I focus on that instead of the hollow ache opening beneath my ribs.
Wonbin is surrounded.
Omegas gather around him easily, naturally, like this is where they’re meant to be.
Some laugh too brightly, some lean too close, fingers brushing his arm or his shoulder as if by accident.
Their scents reach me in waves—sweet, floral, sugary—layering over one another until my head starts to throb.
And Wonbin…
He doesn’t pull away.
He looks relaxed.
At ease.
Almost bored, like this kind of attention is routine, expected.
His posture is loose, unguarded, like there’s nothing in this room that could touch him deeply enough to matter.
Something inside me twists.
My omega stirs, unsettled.
Not sharp enough to be jealousy—not something I feel entitled to.
We barely know each other.
This engagement wasn’t even our choice.
Still…
It hurts.
More than I expect it to.
I lower my gaze to my glass, pretending to be fascinated by the way the light refracts through it.
I feel foolish standing here alone, like an ornament placed somewhere and forgotten.
Why did I even come?
Grandmother isn’t here.
She insisted I attend anyway, said it would be good for me to socialize, to get used to these kinds of gatherings.
As if exposure alone could dull instinct.
As if fear could be trained out of a body.
The air feels thick.
Too many unfamiliar scents crowd my senses—alphas, omegas, betas all mingling freely.
Laughter cuts through the music in sharp bursts.
My shoulders tense without me meaning to, my posture curling inward as my body tries to make itself smaller.
I miss my family.
I miss Appa’s quiet presence beside me, the way he always places a steady hand on my back when rooms get too crowded.
I miss Abeoji’s voice—firm but gentle—grounding me without ever asking me to shrink.
I miss my brother so much it feels like my chest might cave in.
I think about leaving.
Just slipping out quietly.
Finding the car.
Curling up in my bed where it’s familiar and safe and no one expects anything from me.
Where my body doesn’t have to perform or endure.
I’m just about to turn away when a hand lands on my shoulder.
I flinch.
My body reacts before my mind does, a sharp inhale tearing out of me as I stiffen under the unexpected touch.
“Hey.”
The voice is warm.
Familiar.
“Brother-in-law, what are you doing here all alone?”
I exhale shakily and turn, relief flooding through me so fast my knees almost weaken.
“Jaehyun-hyung,” I say, my voice softer than I intend.
“You scared me. I thought you were someone else.”
He chuckles, lifting his hands in apology.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
I force a small laugh, trying to steady myself.
“It’s okay. I just… wasn’t expecting anyone.”
Jaehyun tilts his head, studying me.
His gaze is perceptive, gentle in a way that makes it harder to hide.
“You look like you were about to run,” he says.
I don’t deny it.
“I was thinking about it.”
His eyes follow my line of sight, landing effortlessly on Wonbin across the room.
Something knowing curves his mouth.
“So,” he says lightly, “why aren’t you with my brother?”
I look down at my glass again.
“He seems busy.”
“That’s one way to describe it.”
“I don’t want to disturb him,” I add quietly.
“Besides… I don’t think he even knows I’m here.”
Jaehyun hums.
“You sure about that?”
I nod, even though my chest aches at the lie.
“Pretty sure.”
The music swells around us.
Conversation rises and falls like waves.
“So,” he nudges me gently, “you don’t want to go introduce yourself to your fiancé and his friends?”
I snort before I can stop myself.
“Please.
I think that would just make everything awkward.”
“For who?”
“For me,” I say immediately.
“He looks like he’s enjoying himself. I don’t want to… ruin that.”
Jaehyun’s expression softens, the teasing fading.
“You know you’re allowed to take up space too, right?”
“I know,” I say.
But it doesn’t feel true.
“I just want peace.”
My shoulders slump, exhaustion seeping into my bones.
“I miss my brother. I want to go home. I want to sit between my Appa and Abeoji at dinner and complain about the food even though I’ll eat it anyway.”
He laughs softly, but there’s tenderness in his eyes.
“You’re not very good at hiding how you feel.”
I shake my head.
“No.”
After a pause, he speaks again—quieter.
“Wonbin can be difficult.”
“That’s putting it nicely.”
“He’s not good with expectations,” Jaehyun admits.
“Especially ones he didn’t ask for.”
My fingers tighten around the glass.
“Neither am I.”
That makes him really look at me.
“You don’t have to force yourself tonight,” he says gently.
“No one’s going to drag you back in if you want to leave.”
“I can’t,” I sigh.
“The bodyguards are at the front. My brother kind of… ran away from home so we can’t risk of getting him found.”
Jaehyun raises a brow.
“Of course he did.”
“There’s no way I can sneak past them.”
“Well,” he leans closer, lowering his voice, “there is a back door.”
I blink.
“A back door?”
“Staff use it. I can show you, but I can’t go with you.” He smirks.
“Unless you’re the type who never goes anywhere alone.”
I straighten immediately.
“I can do it.”
He grins.
“Thought so.”
We move through the crowd together, Jaehyun subtly positioning himself between me and anyone who gets too close.
I notice it—the quiet shielding—and my chest tightens with gratitude.
At the door, I turn back.
“Thank you, hyung.”
“Anytime,” he says softly.
“Take care of yourself.”
I step outside.
The cool night air hits my face, and for the first time since arriving, I can breathe.
I pull out my phone immediately and call Chansoo.
Just hearing his voice steadies me, anchors me back into myself.
By the time I reach the café he suggested, my chest feels lighter.
But when I step inside—
I see him.
Standing near the corner.
A mask pulled low.
His scent carefully muted.
But I know.
Chansoo.
And for the first time in weeks, I let myself breathe.
Yet even then—
Somewhere deep in my chest, a thin string still aches.
Pulled tight.
Unanswered.