Jihan’s POV
Every meal with his family felt like an endurance test I kept failing quietly.
I learned to brace myself the moment I stepped into the restaurant—shoulders back, spine straight, smile prepared like armor.
I knew where to sit.
I knew when to speak.
I knew how to fold my hands so they didn’t tremble, how to chew slowly even when my stomach knotted too tight to accept food.
I knew how to be good.
And still, I felt wrong.
Wrong for smiling when my chest felt hollow.
Wrong for laughing softly at jokes that slid past me like I wasn’t really there.
Wrong for pretending this was just another polite dinner and not something that scraped me raw every single time.
The room was always too warm.
Restaurants were the worst for it.
Heat clung to my skin, thick and suffocating, and lately it felt different—heavier, insistent.
My omega was restless, aching beneath my ribs, already edging toward something dangerous and humiliating.
Every sound grated against my nerves.
Cutlery clinking too loudly.
Glasses touching.
Voices overlapping until my head buzzed.
I sat straight anyway.
Wonbin sat across from me, close enough that his scent brushed me whenever he shifted, close enough to make my omega stir helplessly—but far enough to feel intentional.
Measured.
Like a line he refused to cross.
Every time I spoke to him, I watched his eyes move away before his mouth even answered.
Not rudely.
Never rudely.
Politely.
Briefly.
Carefully.
Like I was something fragile he didn’t want to handle too much.
Like I was a responsibility, not a choice.
It hurt in a way that didn’t leave marks.
In a way that made me doubt myself instead of him.
I had thought—naively—that if I agreed to this arrangement, the alpha would at least be steady.
Certain.
That he would take the lead so I didn’t have to wonder where I stood.
I thought he would want this, or at least want me enough to pretend convincingly.
Instead, it felt like I was dragging myself forward alone while he lingered half a step back, already detached, already elsewhere.
And the cruelest part was that he wasn’t unkind.
He was nice.
Nice enough to make it unbearable.
He poured water for me when my glass emptied.
Asked if the food was too salty.
Noticed when I pushed my plate away and quietly suggested dessert might be lighter on my stomach.
Anyone watching would think I was lucky.
But I could feel the difference between courtesy and want.
I could feel the absence of his gaze lingering, the lack of instinct reaching for me.
I knew what it felt like when an alpha wanted.
This wasn’t it.
This was obligation wrapped in gentleness.
I knew his reputation.
Everyone did.
Stories passed between omegas like warnings disguised as gossip—how easily he smiled, how easily he touched, how easily he moved on.
He never denied it.
He didn’t need to.
So when he treated me with this distant kindness, it didn’t reassure me.
It made me feel interchangeable.
Like I was sitting in a seat meant for someone else.
They leaned a little too close when placing Wonbin’s plate down.
Their voice dipped, soft and inviting, eyes bright with practiced confidence.
I tried to focus on my food, on breathing evenly, on keeping my scent in check.
Then Wonbin smiled.
Just a small thing.
A reflex.
A warmth that hadn’t appeared for me all night.
My stomach lurched violently, heat flushing up my spine.
My omega recoiled, then surged forward at the same time, distressed and needy in a way that made my skin prickle with shame.
I smiled harder.
God, I smiled so hard it hurt.
My scent spiked despite everything I’d learned to control.
Sharp, unsettled.
I saw my grandmother pause mid-sentence.
Mihyun’s gaze followed me carefully, measuring.
I hated how visible I was.
Hated how my body betrayed me.
“Are you okay, Jihan-ah?” Mihyun asked.
I nodded too fast.
“Yes. I think maybe the food—or the smell. I’m sorry, I’m not usually sensitive.”
Lies stacked on lies, neat and practiced.
Their attention shifted fully to me, concern closing in, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe.
I wanted to crawl out of my own skin.
“Maybe you should go home and rest,” Mihyun said gently.
“Wonbin can take you. We’ll handle the rest.”
Relief and humiliation tangled painfully in my chest.
I smiled again.
“Thank you. I really wanted to stay and help, but I don’t think I can like this.”
My grandma reached for my hand, her touch warm and steady.
“Your health matters more.”
I leaned in to kiss her cheek, then Mihyun’s, but before I could fully step away, my grandma leaned closer and lowered her voice.
“I think it would be better if you contacted your brother,” she whispered.
“You’re close to your heat.”
Shock flashed through me.
I pulled back slightly, heat crawling up my neck.
I didn’t ask how she knew that I was in contact with my brother, none of that matters because what she told rings in my head You’re close to your heat.
Well that make sense why I feel so sensitive with everything around me.
“I—I already texted him,” I lied weakly.
She smiled knowingly.
“Just to be sure.”
I nodded, swallowing hard, and finally stepped away.
Outside the private room, Wonbin hovered, glancing around like he wasn’t sure where to put himself.
“Could you… wait a bit?” he asked.
I almost scoffed.
“It’s okay if you have things to do,” I said quickly.
“I can just call someone to get me.”
He looked startled.
“No—no, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not meeting anyone. I can take you home. I just need to get something.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Please wait.”
Before I could answer, he walked off toward the counter.
I stood there alone, arms wrapped around myself, watching him talk to the staff.
The omega from earlier appeared again, holding a small box, smiling brightly.
Wonbin smiled too, paid, and walked back to me.
“Here,” he said, holding it out.
“My mom told me you really like this. She bought it once when she visited your house. I found out it’s from here.”
The box felt warm in my hands.
Familiar.
Thoughtful.
Something inside me cracked.
“Thank you… alpha,” I said before I could stop myself.
The word slipped out raw and instinctive, my omega surging forward, exposed.
Wonbin’s eyes widened, realization hitting him a second too late.
“Oh—god, I’m sorry,” I rushed out, mortified.
“I didn’t mean—my omega’s just— I really need to go.”
“Hyung.”
A hand pressed gently against my back, a solid body warm at my side, familiar scent grounding me instantly.
“Chansoo,” I breathed.
“I didn’t even text you yet.”
He laughed softly.
“You don’t mind, right?”
Wonbin hesitated, then nodded.
“Yeah. If he’s comfortable. I was just worried, but… yeah.”
I noticed it then—how easily he let go.
How little it seemed to cost him.
“Thank you, Wonbin-ssi,” I said quietly.
“I’ll see you another time.”
He didn’t look up as we walked away.
At home, Chansoo didn’t ask questions.
He never pushed when I wasn’t ready.
But the silence followed me into my room, into the shower, into the moment I sat on my bed staring at the box in my hands.
I argued with myself for ten minutes before finally texting him.
Hi.
Thank you for the cookies.
I’m home now.
The reply came quickly.
I didn’t expect you to message, but thank you.
I’m relieved you’re home safely.
I hope you like them.
You can tell me anything you want—I’ll get it for you.
I stared at the screen until my eyes burned.
He was kind.
Thoughtful.
Careful.
And somehow, that hurt more than if he’d been cold.
Because kindness without wanting felt like a promise that would never be kept—and I didn’t know how much longer I could sit at the table pretending I wasn’t already breaking.
I don’t know if I’m dreaming, or if this is just my mind finally cracking under the pressure.
I don’t know why he suddenly sounds like this—why the alpha who barely looks at me during dinners is now careful with his words, gentle in a way that feels intentional.
My chest tightens as I stare at the screen, thumb hovering, heart beating too fast for something so small.
I’m still trying to steady myself when my phone buzzes again.
And by the way, I’m going to celebrate my birthday next weekend so if you’re free—or if you want—maybe you can go?
I’ll talk to your grandma about it.
I’ll make sure the security is good so you won’t be able to escape.
Besides, it’s in a hotel, so you can just check in and stay there if you get bored at the party.
My breath stutters.
Do I want to go?
Of course I do.
I want to go so badly it almost hurts.
I want to see him when he’s not obligated to sit across from me, when there are no mothers watching and no expectations weighing down every glance.
I want to know who he is when the night belongs to him.
Am I scared I’ll see that omega again—the one who slipped into his side so easily the moment Mihyun left?
Of course I am.
Do I care?
…No.
I tell myself I don’t.
I repeat it like a mantra, like if I say it enough times it’ll be true.
Before I can overthink it—before doubt claws its way back in—I type my reply.
Yeah sure, I’ll be there.
xox
The second I send it, I throw my phone onto the bed like it burned me.
Oh my god.
Did I just—did I really send that?
I bury my face in my hands, groaning softly.
XOX.
What is wrong with me?
What era am I living in?
I’ve never flirted like that in my life.
I hope—no, I pray—he doesn’t know what it means.
Or maybe alphas don’t take it seriously.
Maybe it’s nothing to him.
But my heart doesn’t believe that.
Because no matter how much I scold myself, no matter how many doubts I stack up to protect my pride, I can’t stop the smile that slowly, traitorously curves my lips.
And that scares me more than anything else.