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Seungcheol stood by the doorway of the dimly lit living room, watching Jeonghan sit alone on the couch, lost in thought. His arms were crossed, and his fingers absentmindedly tapped against his bicep—a telltale sign that something was weighing on his mind.
Seungcheol didn’t need to guess what it was. Ever since he announced that his mother would be coming over, Jeonghan’s mood had shifted completely. He had grown quieter, more distant, his usual sharp remarks replaced with a silence that felt heavier than words ever could.
Seungcheol sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He wanted to say something, to ease the tension, but he knew Jeonghan wouldn’t open up easily—not when it came to this.
-
At the dinner table, the atmosphere was warm, filled with the sounds of conversation and the occasional clinking of utensils against plates. Seungcheol glanced around at his mates, taking in the familiar sight.
Jisoo and Jeonghan were talking animatedly, their voices blending into the comfortable buzz of the room. Jihoon, ever the attentive father, was focused on Seoyeon, carefully feeding their daughter and making sure she didn’t get food all over herself. The little girl giggled between bites, her eyes bright with excitement.
Seungcheol hesitated, pressing his lips together before finally clearing his throat. His voice cut through the air, momentarily disrupting the flow of conversation.
"My mother is coming over to stay for a few days."
The words landed heavily, and for a moment, everything stilled. Jihoon’s hand paused mid-air, the spoon hovering just in front of Seoyeon’s mouth. The toddler blinked up at him expectantly, waiting for the next bite, unaware of the sudden shift in tension.
Seungcheol’s eyes flickered around the table, searching for a reaction. No one spoke at first. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Jisoo finally broke the silence.
"Why?" he asked, his tone calm but edged with curiosity.
Seungcheol exhaled slowly, gripping his glass a little tighter. "She just got back to Korea. She wants to celebrate Christmas with us… and also your birthday." He paused, glancing down before adding, "And with the divorce finalized last month, I didn’t want to turn her away. I know we usually keep it just the pack, but…"
His gaze flickered toward Jihoon, who was watching him carefully. "I also want to tell her about Hoonie’s pregnancy."
Jisoo’s expression softened, and he gave a small nod. "Got it," he said simply. There was understanding in his eyes, a quiet acknowledgment of the situation.
But Seungcheol wasn’t worried about Jisoo’s response. He turned his attention to Jeonghan and Jihoon. They were the ones who mattered in this—because they were the ones who had always had a strained relationship with his mother.
Jihoon exhaled softly and resumed feeding Seoyeon. "Fine," he murmured, though there was a noticeable distance in his voice.
Before Seungcheol could process his relief, Jeonghan stiffened beside him. His expression darkened, his brows furrowing deeply. "You can’t be serious, Jihoon," he said, voice sharp with disbelief.
Jihoon didn’t look at him. Instead, he waved a dismissive hand. "It’s fine, Jeonghan. Really." His voice was level, firm. "She just got out of a divorce. She wants to spend time with us."
Jeonghan let out a slow breath, his jaw tightening. He wasn’t convinced. His fingers curled against the table, and for a moment, it seemed like he would argue. But then his eyes met Jihoon’s, and something passed between them—something unspoken, yet clear.
Jihoon was choosing to let it go. He was tired. And for now, Jeonghan would respect that.
"…Fine," Jeonghan muttered, though the reluctance was obvious.
Seungcheol let out a quiet breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Thank you," he said softly.
Jisoo shot him a small smile, as if sensing the relief he felt. Jihoon, too, offered a tiny, almost imperceptible smile before turning back to Minji. But Seungcheol wasn’t focused on them. His eyes were on Jeonghan, who remained stiff beside him.
Something was off.
Seungcheol could sense it—not just in Jeonghan’s expression, but in the slight shift in his scent. It was subtle, but it was there.
This wasn’t just reluctance. This was something deeper.
Seungcheol made a mental note to talk to him later. For now, he had to let it go.
-
Seungcheol had heard it before—small comments from Jihoon and Jeonghan about the way his mother spoke to them. They never outright accused her of anything cruel, but there was always a certain… weight behind their words.
Yet, Seungcheol couldn’t quite understand it. He had never once heard her say anything inappropriate. His mother had always been the type to joke around—sometimes a little too much—but never with ill intent. Not like how Jeonghan and Jihoon seemed to perceive it.
She could be protective, yes. Overbearing, even. But he knew her heart was in the right place.
She was his mother, after all.
And as much as he wanted to cancel her visit, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when he knew how much the divorce had affected her. He couldn’t just turn her away when she needed family the most.
Seungcheol pulled himself out of his thoughts and stepped toward Jeonghan, who was still sitting in the living room, lost in his own.
"Hannie."
Jeonghan looked up, his eyes unreadable.
"Aren’t you going to sleep?' Seungcheol asked as he sat beside him.
There was a long silence before Jeonghan finally spoke.
"Cheol." His voice was quiet, but firm. "I love you. And I respect your parents because of that. But I’m going to say this now—if your mom says anything about Jihoon, I’m not gonna stay quiet."
Seungcheol’s breath hitched slightly. "Jeonghan—"
"I can take whatever she throws at me. I don’t care what she says about me," Jeonghan continued. His gaze was sharp, unwavering. "But not Jihoon. Not when he’s pregnant. Not when he’s already at high risk."
Seungcheol swallowed, his chest tightening. "He’s my mate too, Jeonghan. I would never let anyone hurt him."
Jeonghan nodded slowly. "I know you wouldn’t." But then, after a beat, he added, "But your mom would. And you still can’t see it."
The words stung.
Before Seungcheol could respond, Jeonghan stood up and walked away, leaving him sitting there, frustration simmering in his chest.
And just like that, it always ended the same way.
Arguments. Tension. Distance.
Every time his mother was brought up, it became a fight. And it was exhausting—because no matter how many times they had this conversation, Seungcheol still didn’t understand.
He just hoped this time, things wouldn’t escalate into something worse.
He just hoped Jeonghan and his mother wouldn’t end up at each other’s throats.
Jihoon lay on the bed, his body exhausted from the long day, the soft hum of the night surrounding him like a familiar lullaby. His night routine was complete—clean, refreshed, and finally ready for rest—but his mind refused to settle. The quiet of the room was comforting, yet his thoughts kept circling back to the conversation earlier, replaying it like a song stuck on repeat.
Through the walls, he could hear the gentle murmur of Seungcheol and Jisoo as they tucked Seoyeon in for the night. Their voices were soft, affectionate, filled with the kind of tenderness that only parents could offer. The warmth in their tone made Jihoon’s chest ache—not out of jealousy, but out of longing. It was soothing, yet at the same time, a cruel reminder of the uncertainty that loomed over his own pregnancy.
The sound of running water from the bathroom ceased, followed by soft footsteps padding across the wooden floor. The faint rustle of fabric reached Jihoon’s ears, and he turned his head just in time to see Jeonghan emerge, steam still clinging to his skin. A towel sat loosely around his waist, water droplets trailing down his collarbones and disappearing beneath the fabric.
Jihoon’s gaze softened as Jeonghan moved toward the dresser, pulling out one of Seungcheol’s shirts. It was far too big on him—the sleeves draped over his wrists, the hem brushing against his thighs. With practiced ease, Jeonghan slipped it on, the scent of their mate lingering in the fabric. Then, with a sigh, he climbed into bed beside Jihoon, immediately pulling him close, enveloping him in warmth.
Jihoon melted into the embrace, his cheek resting against Jeonghan’s chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The familiar scent of his alpha surrounded him, grounding him in a way nothing else could. Jeonghan’s fingers found their way into Jihoon’s hair, carding through the strands in slow, soothing motions. The tenderness in his touch spoke volumes—of love, of devotion, of an unspoken promise to always be there.
"Jihoon," Jeonghan murmured, his voice gentle yet firm, "you’re pregnant. I don’t want Cheol’s mom to stress you out."
Jihoon closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as the weight of Jeonghan’s words settled deep in his chest. He knew Jeonghan wasn’t just saying it to comfort him. It was a genuine concern, one that had only grown stronger since they’d confirmed the pregnancy.
The relationship between Jihoon, Jeonghan, and Seungcheol’s mother had always been complicated, strained by traditions and expectations that neither he nor Jeonghan could ever meet. Seungcheol came from a family that clung tightly to the old ways—where packs followed a strict hierarchy, where alphas were dominant, omegas were prized, and betas were often overlooked or expected to serve. Jeonghan, an alpha himself, had never fit into that mold, and Jihoon, as a beta, had always been seen as lesser in her eyes.
And now, with Jihoon carrying a child—a child that shouldn’t have even been possible—it will only give Seungcheol’s mother more reasons to disapprove.
'She always adored Jisoo,' Jihoon thought to himself. But he knew it wasn’t just about Jisoo being an omega. It was about what Jisoo had given her—Soyeon, her precious granddaughter. Omegas were cherished, especially when they provided heirs. But Jihoon was different. His pregnancy was an anomaly, something unheard of, something unnatural in the eyes of those who believed in the old ways.
And with that came fear. Fear of the unknown, of the risks that loomed over this pregnancy. Betas weren’t meant to carry children, let alone alpha children. There were so many dangers—miscarriage, complications, the possibility that the baby wouldn’t survive. The very thought of it sent a shiver down Jihoon’s spine.
Jeonghan must have sensed his unease because his arms tightened around Jihoon, holding him just a little closer, his fingers continuing their slow, rhythmic strokes through Jihoon’s hair. "I just want you to be okay," Jeonghan whispered, his lips pressing a featherlight kiss to Jihoon’s forehead.
Jihoon swallowed against the lump forming in his throat. He could hear the quiet worry in Jeonghan’s voice, the protectiveness that had only grown stronger with time. Jeonghan had always looked out for him, but now, with the uncertainty of their future, his concern was almost palpable.
"It’s not about her," Jihoon finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t care about her. I just want our mates to be happy."
Jeonghan let out a slow sigh, his breath warm against Jihoon’s skin. He tilted Jihoon’s chin up gently, their eyes meeting in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. "I know," he murmured before leaning in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Jihoon’s lips. It was brief, but full of meaning—a silent reassurance that no matter what, they would face this together.
When they pulled away, Jeonghan rested his forehead against Jihoon’s, his voice thick with emotion. "But I’ll never stop worrying about you. About both of you."
Jihoon’s heart swelled at those words, his grip on Jeonghan tightening just a little. He knew how much Jeonghan loved him, how deeply he cared. And while the fear of what lay ahead still lingered, Jihoon took comfort in the arms that held him, in the love that surrounded him.
They might not be able to change the past, or the way Seungcheol’s mother saw them, but they had each other. And for now, that was enough.
The first day Seungcheol's mom arrived, everything went smoothly—for the most part. She made a few passive-aggressive remarks about Jeonghan, but other than that, the day passed without any major incidents. That was largely because Seungcheol never left their side, keeping a close watch over the situation. With him there, his mother didn’t have the chance to behave the way she usually did toward Jihoon and Jeonghan.
But she found her opportunity the very next morning, while Seungcheol was still deep in sleep. The house was calm, bathed in the soft morning light. Jisoo was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for everyone. The comforting aroma of fresh coffee and warm bread filled the air. Meanwhile, Jeonghan was on baby duty, carefully bathing and dressing their daughter for the day, humming softly to keep her entertained.
At the dining table, Jihoon sat with a hand resting on his barely shown belly, exhaustion evident in his posture. Morning sickness had drained him, and he sipped slowly on a glass of water, hoping to settle his uneasy his nauseous.
Jisoo glanced over, concern flickering in his eyes. He walked over and placed a gentle hand on Jihoon's shoulder. "Craving anything in particular?" he asked softly, his voice warm with affection.
Jihoon thought for a moment before sighing. "Waffles. With pickles."
Jisoo chuckled at the odd combination but didn’t comment, instead leaning sideways to press a quick kiss to Jihoon’s lips. "Alright, love. Just make sure you don’t let Seoyeon taste it with you like last time."
Jihoon laughed, remembering the incident all too well. The last time he had a bizarre craving—ice cream with cheese fries—Seoyeon had eagerly tried it with him, only to end up with a stomachache. "Don’t worry, I won’t let her," he assured Jisoo with a small grin.
Jisoo smiled, pleased, and went back to cooking. The kitchen was peaceful, the soft clatter of utensils mixing with the occasional giggle from Seoyeon as Jeonghan dried her tiny hands with a towel.
But the peace was short-lived.
Just as Jihoon was beginning to feel a little better, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The air grew tense, as if a dark cloud had suddenly rolled in. And then, she entered.
Seungcheol's mother walked in, her sharp eyes immediately scanning the room. The moment she noticed that Seungcheol wasn’t present, her expression changed. Her once-neutral face twisted into something colder, more judgmental, as her gaze zeroed in on Jihoon.
Jihoon felt it before she even spoke—that familiar sting of disapproval.
"Shouldn’t you be cooking breakfast?" she said, her voice laced with condescension. Then, without giving Jihoon a chance to respond, she turned her attention to Jisoo. "Jisoo, dear, you shouldn’t tire yourself. Just let this beta do it."
Jihoon caught how Jisoo stiffened slightly, the way his fingers hesitated over the spatula. He let out a nervous chuckle, clearly trying to brush it off.
Jeonghan, who had just finished placing their daughter into her high chair, opened his mouth to retort, but Jihoon shot him a look—one that said not now. The last thing he wanted was an argument this early in the morning.
Jisoo, ever the peacemaker, offered a calm response. "I’m fine, Mom. It’s my turn today."
But Seungcheol's mother wasn’t having it. She scoffed, shaking her head. "Nonsense. Omegas like you should be resting, being taken care of properly. You shouldn’t be forced to cook for yourself."
Jihoon barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Here we go again.
There was always an unspoken tension between him and Seungcheol’s mother, an invisible battle of wills. No matter how much time passed, no matter how much he proved himself, she never saw him as good enough. Not for Seungcheol, not for their family. And now, she was trying to pull Jisoo into it too.
Jihoon exhaled slowly, gripping his glass a little tighter. He could already tell—it was going to be a long morning.
Jihoon took a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm. He had dealt with Seungcheol’s mother long enough to know that arguing with her wouldn’t get him anywhere. Still, the way she spoke—like he was nothing more than a servant in his own home—made his stomach churn with irritation.
Before he could respond, Jisoo let out a soft sigh and turned back to the stove. "I don’t mind cooking, Mom. Jihoon has been feeling sick lately, and I want to help."
Seungcheol’s mother pursed her lips, clearly displeased. "Feeling sick? It’s just morning sickness. Everyone goes through it. That doesn’t mean he gets to sit around doing nothing."
Jihoon clenched his jaw but forced a polite smile. "I’m not sitting around doing nothing," he said evenly. "I’ve been taking care of Seoyeon all morning."
She let out a scoff, shaking her head as she moved to sit at the dining table across from him. "Taking care of one child isn’t difficult, Jihoon. You act like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders."
Before Jihoon could say anything, Jeonghan—who had been trying to hold his tongue—finally had enough. "Not everyone has the luxury of sitting around criticizing others all day," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he placed a sippy cup in front of Seoyeon.
Seungcheol’s mother narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me?"
Jeonghan turned to her fully, crossing his arms. "You heard me. You come into our home and start throwing insults first thing in the morning. Do you ever just—" he waved a hand in the air, searching for the right words, "—not do that?"
"Jeonghan," Jihoon warned quietly, though he was secretly grateful for the backup.
But Jeonghan wasn’t done. He leaned against the counter, his tone casual but sharp. "Seriously, how is it that every time you visit, the atmosphere instantly turns toxic? It’s like you thrive on conflict."
Seungcheol’s mother let out a sharp laugh, clearly unimpressed. "Oh, please. I simply speak the truth. If Jihoon wasn’t so sensitive, we wouldn’t be having this conversation."
Jihoon’s fingers tightened around his glass, but before he could respond, a groggy voice cut through the tension.
"What’s going on?"
Everyone turned toward the doorway. Seungcheol stood there, hair messy from sleep, eyes still heavy with exhaustion. But the moment he took in the scene—the tense expressions, Jihoon’s stiff posture, Jeonghan’s glare, and his mother’s all-too-innocent expression—his drowsiness faded instantly.
Jihoon watched as Seungcheol’s gaze landed on him, concern flickering in his dark eyes. "Did something happen?"
Jihoon hesitated, not wanting to turn this into a full-blown argument, but Jeonghan had no such reservations. "Oh, nothing much. Just your mother being her usual charming self, telling Jihoon he’s lazy and shouldn’t be resting despite being dizzy and nauseous."
Seungcheol’s jaw clenched. His mother sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "That’s not what I said."
Jeonghan scoffed. "It’s exactly what you said."
Seungcheol ran a hand down his face, already tired despite just waking up. He turned to his mother. "Mom, we’ve talked about this."
She crossed her arms. "I was just stating my opinion."
"And your opinion," Seungcheol said firmly, "isn’t needed when it comes to how we run our household."
There was a heavy silence. Jihoon bit his lip, unsure if he should step in or let Seungcheol handle it. He didn’t want to create more problems between Seungcheol and his mother, but at the same time, he was tired of always being the bigger person.
Seungcheol’s mother stood up, clearly unhappy with how the conversation was going. "Fine. I won’t say another word about it."
Somehow, Jihoon doubted that.
She turned to Jisoo, her tone much softer. "At least you understand the importance of family values."
Jisoo smiled politely but didn’t respond, instead focusing on plating the waffles. Jihoon knew Jisoo was too kind to outright tell her off, but the way he subtly placed Jihoon’s plate in front of him first before anyone else was a silent show of support.
Seungcheol sighed and walked over to Jihoon, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "You okay?" he murmured.
Jihoon nodded. "Yeah. Just tired."
Seungcheol gave him a knowing look before glancing back at his mother. "Mom, if you’re going to be here, you need to stop treating Jihoon like this. I mean it."
She didn’t respond, instead reaching for the coffee pot with an air of indifference. Jihoon knew this wasn’t the end of it. But for now, at least, the conversation was over.
He picked up his fork and took a bite of his waffles. The moment the pickles hit his tongue, he grimaced.
Jisoo smirked. "Not as good as you imagined?"
Jihoon sighed. "I think my cravings are betraying me."
Jeonghan snorted, Seoyeon giggled, and despite the lingering tension in the air, Jihoon found himself smiling. It wasn’t perfect, but at least he wasn’t facing it alone.
Jihoon should have known—she wouldn’t leave him alone. She never did. No matter how much he tried to stay out of her way, she always found something to nag him about. Today was December 30, Joshua’s birthday. They had planned a simple celebration, just the way Joshua liked it—nothing extravagant, just a quiet gathering with close friends, a small cake, and lighthearted conversation.
Everything had gone smoothly throughout the day. They laughed, shared stories, and enjoyed each other’s company. By the time evening rolled around, Seoyeon was getting drowsy, so Seungcheol took her upstairs to tuck her in. Meanwhile, Jeonghan and Joshua decided to make a quick run to the store to grab some snacks before they all settled in for a movie night.
Jihoon, finally having a moment to himself, lounged on the living room couch, lazily scrolling through his phone. The warmth of the heater made him feel drowsy, and he considered closing his eyes for a bit. But before he could get comfortable, he heard footsteps approaching.
Seungcheol’s mother stopped in front of him, arms crossed. "I brought a gift for Jisoo, but I forgot it at home. Go bring it."
Jihoon barely looked up from his phone, assuming she was talking to someone else. When he realized she was staring straight at him, he blinked in disbelief. Was she serious?
Seungcheol’s family house was on the outskirts of Seoul. A two-hour trip at best, and because Jihoon didn’t drive, it would take even longer—closer to three hours by bus. He sighed, already dreading the idea.
"Your house is far. And I don’t drive. I’ll pick it up tomorrow with Seungcheol," he replied, hoping that would be enough to shut down the conversation.
But she wasn’t having it. Her glare sharpened. "No. I need to give Jisoo his gift today. Just go pick it up—it’s not that far. Can’t you do just that?"
Jihoon clenched his jaw, feeling frustration bubble up. He could argue, but what was the point? She never listened. She never cared about what was convenient for him.
With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself off the couch. There was no way out of this. "Fine," he muttered, grabbing his jacket and wallet before heading toward the door.
The moment he stepped outside, the cold bit at his skin. The temperature had dropped significantly, and snowflakes drifted down from the dark sky, covering the pavement in a thin layer of white. He shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around himself as he made his way toward the bus station. His breath came out in small puffs as he stood there, waiting. The streets were eerily quiet, save for the occasional car passing by.
As he hugged himself for warmth, he exhaled sharply, muttering under his breath, "This better be worth it."
Jihoon stood at the bus stop, his hands tucked deep into his coat pockets, shoulders hunched against the biting wind. The streets were eerily quiet, the only sound being the occasional rustling of leaves skittering across the pavement. The bus arrived with a low hum, its headlights cutting through the thick fog that had settled in. Without hesitation, he stepped inside, the warmth inside the empty vehicle wrapping around him like a thin blanket. Of course, no one else would be out at this hour, especially not in weather like this.
He made his way to a seat by the window and sank into it, exhaling deeply. Fatigue weighed heavy on him, and as soon as he rested his head against the cold glass, his eyes fluttered shut. The rhythmic vibrations of the moving bus lulled him into a dreamless sleep.
Just as he had predicted, three hours passed in the blink of an eye. When he woke, the bus had already pulled up at his stop. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Jihoon stood up and stepped outside, shivering as the night air immediately clung to his skin. He tightened his coat around himself and walked toward Seungcheol’s family home, his footsteps echoing through the silent streets.
With the key Seungcheol had given him, Jihoon unlocked the front door and stepped inside. The house was dark and still, save for the faint creaking of the wooden floor beneath his feet. Flicking on the lights, he glanced around, his eyes scanning the living room. He remembered what she had told him—the package was wrapped in pink and placed somewhere in the middle of the couch.
But there was nothing.
Frowning, he checked again, moving cushions aside and peering around the furniture. Still nothing. His brows furrowed in frustration as he retraced his steps, searching every possible place it could be. Just as he was about to give up, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
It was a text from Seungcheol’s mom.
"Oh! I found it with me! I must have taken it by mistake earlier. Sorry, dear!"
Jihoon stared at the screen, his lips pressing into a thin line. He should have known. He should have already figured it out. This was all on purpose. She had made him come all the way here for nothing. A long sigh escaped his lips as he ruffled his hair in exasperation.
Shaking his head, he switched off the lights and stepped back outside, locking the door behind him. The wind had only grown harsher, sending chills down his spine as he made his way toward the bus station. Just as he arrived, his eyes caught sight of the bus pulling away from the stop.
"Seriously?" he muttered under his breath, watching as the taillights disappeared into the distance.
With no other choice, he turned on his phone and started looking for a taxi. But as he stood there, his vision blurred slightly, and a wave of dizziness washed over him. The cold stung his nose, making it harder to breathe, and his limbs felt heavier by the second. His body swayed slightly, his breath coming out in short, unsteady puffs.
His dizziness only worsened.
Before he could even register what was happening, his knees buckled, and the world around him faded into darkness.
Jihoon collapsed onto the icy sidewalk.
Jisoo should have known something was wrong the moment he stepped inside the house with Jeonghan. The air felt different—off. The usual spot where Jihoon always sat was empty, the indentation on the cushion missing as if he hadn’t been there at all. At first, Jisoo brushed it off. Maybe Jihoon had gone to the bathroom or stepped out for some fresh air.
But when Seungcheol came downstairs, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel, and casually asked, “Where’s Jihoon?” a strange unease settled in Jisoo’s chest.
He should have figured it out right then.
"Mom, do you know where he is?" Seungcheol asked.
His mother barely looked up from her phone, smiling as if it was nothing. "Oh, he said he needed to grab something from a nearby store."
Jisoo should have known that was a lie. Jihoon wasn’t the type to run errands in the middle of the night, especially in the freezing cold. But he didn’t want to question Seungcheol’s mother. Maybe because he was tired. Maybe because he didn’t want to start anything on Joshua’s birthday.
So, the three of them sat in the living room, waiting.
At first, it was fine. But as the minutes stretched, an odd tension built up inside Jisoo. His omega instincts prickled, and his muscles grew stiff with unease. Something wasn’t right. Jihoon should have been back by now.
The sudden chime of the doorbell made Jisoo flinch. Seungcheol got up to answer it, disappearing into the entryway.
Five minutes passed. Then Seungcheol reappeared, holding something wrapped in pink. His brows were slightly furrowed as he set the package down.
"Mom, your driver said you forgot this in the car."
Jisoo’s eyes flickered to Seungcheol’s mother. The moment she saw the package, something shifted in her expression. It was quick—just a flicker—but Jisoo caught it. Guilt.
She grabbed her phone, typed something quickly, then put it away.
"Oh, it’s Jisoo’s gift. I must have forgotten it in the car. Come see it, honey," she said as she picked up the package, trying to act nonchalant.
Jisoo barely glanced at the gift. His omega was restless. His instincts screamed at him that something was wrong. His pregnant mate wasn’t here, and none of the alphas had gone with Jihoon to ensure his safety. A deep, uneasy dread coiled in his stomach.
Then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed something.
Jeonghan had been watching Seungcheol’s mother carefully. His sharp eyes flickered toward her phone, which she hadn’t turned off. A second later, his entire scent changed—turning sour, sharp with anger.
Something was wrong.
Before Jisoo could react, Jeonghan snatched the phone off the table and stood up, his expression livid.
"What do you mean by the text you sent Jihoon?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like ice.
Seungcheol’s mother spun around, her face twisting into a scowl. In her shock, she dropped the gift, her glare locking onto Jeonghan. "You have no right to go through my phone!" she snapped.
Seungcheol stood up, his confusion evident. "Han. Why are you going through my mom’s phone?"
Jeonghan ignored him, his attention locked onto the screen. His grip tightened. "Tell me what you meant by the text you just sent to Jihoon. Where is he?"
A tense silence filled the room.
Seungcheol’s mother folded her arms, her jaw tightening. "Fine. I sent him to get Jisoo’s gift because I thought I forgot it. I just texted him that I found it."
Jisoo felt his stomach drop. His vision blurred for a second as panic surged through him.
Seungcheol’s eyes widened in horror. Jeonghan’s scent turned even more bitter, filled with rage.
"You what?" Seungcheol murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Mom," he continued, voice trembling with restrained fury. "Did you just say you sent my mate to our house?"
Seungcheol’s mother huffed, looking at them as if they were being unreasonable. "Yes, I did. Why are you all acting like this? He’s not a child. He’s a grown man."
A dangerous growl rumbled from Seungcheol’s chest. The sound was low, warning, predatory.
His mother took a step back, startled.
Jisoo barely noticed. His breathing was shallow, his hands clenched into fists. The only thought running through his mind was Jihoon—alone, out in the freezing cold, three hours away, without a car.
And Seungcheol’s mother had just brushed it off like it was nothing.
The room fell into a thick, suffocating silence. Jisoo felt his pulse pounding in his ears, his body tense with unease.
Jeonghan was the first to move. He shoved the phone back onto the table with enough force that it nearly slid off. His nostrils flared, and his jaw was set in fury. "You sent him there? In this weather? At night?"
Seungcheol’s mother straightened, unfazed. "I don’t see why this is turning into such a big deal. He’ll be fine."
Seungcheol clenched his fists. "Fine?" His voice was quieter than Jeonghan’s, but it was filled with barely contained anger. "It’s three hours away, by bus—in the middle of a snowstorm. How is that fine?"
Jisoo omega instincts were screaming at him. He felt sick. He grabbed his phone with shaky hands. He needed to hear Jihoon’s voice. He needed to know he was okay.
With a deep breath, he hit call.
The phone rang once. Twice.
Then the call went to voicemail.
Jisoo’s stomach dropped.
Jisoo’s hands trembled as he gripped his phone tightly, his chest heaving with panic. His tears fell freely, his vision blurred as he redialed the number again and again, only to be met with the same cold, unfeeling voicemail message. His breath came in short gasps, his mind racing through every horrible possibility.
Jihoon always answered his calls. Always.
This was the first time he hadn’t.
The realization hit Jisoo like a tidal wave, sending another wave of fear crashing over him. His mate was missing, unreachable, and it felt like the walls were closing in on him.
Jeonghan, who had been standing nearby, noticed immediately and strode toward Jisoo with concern. His voice softened, laced with worry. "Jisoo, what’s wrong?"
Jisoo turned to him with wide, tear-filled eyes. His voice was shaky, barely above a whisper. "He’s not answering. It keeps going to voicemail. Han, he always picks up his phone. Always." His breath hitched as dread coiled around his heart. His thoughts spiraled, imagining all the worst-case scenarios—Jihoon hurt, lost, alone.
Jeonghan placed a reassuring hand on Jisoo’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. "We’ll find him," he promised, though his own heart pounded with anxiety.
Seungcheol’s mother, who had been silently observing the panic in the room, let out an exasperated sigh. She crossed her arms, shaking her head in disapproval. "You’re all overreacting."
Jisoo turned to her slowly, his usual warmth and gentleness completely gone. His omega instincts flared, his entire body stiffening as something sharp and dangerous flickered in his eyes.
"You sent my mate out into the cold for nothing." His voice was quiet but carried a deadly weight, his words laced with venom. "You don’t get to act like this isn’t serious."
For the first time that night, Seungcheol’s mother hesitated. She shifted uncomfortably, her lips pressing into a thin line. But Jisoo didn’t care. His heart pounded with rage, with resentment, with something that made his entire body tremble.
He had never hated this woman more than he did now.
"I’ll go find him—" Seungcheol started, but before he could finish, a sudden wave of scent filled the air.
Cinnamon.
But it was weak. So weak it barely lingered.
Everyone turned toward the door just in time to see Jihoon stumbling inside, leaning heavily on someone. His breath was ragged, his body trembling uncontrollably.
Beside him was Jeon wonwoo—Jihoon’s best friend and his omega younger brother, Lee chan mate. But it was Wonwoo who carried the weight of unspoken fury in his eyes, his deadly glare piercing straight through the room.
Jisoo’s heart nearly stopped. Without hesitation, he rushed forward, his entire being consumed with panic. He reached for Jihoon, hands gripping his freezing body. The moment he touched him, he gasped.
Jihoon was ice-cold. His lips were pale, his breathing labored.
"Baby," Jisoo choked out, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Oh my god, you’re freezing." He wrapped his arms around Jihoon, holding him close, trying to warm him up.
Jihoon gave a weak smile, his body sagging into Jisoo’s embrace. He barely had the strength to keep his eyes open. "Hyung… I was so scared," he whispered, voice trembling.
The weight of those words crushed Jeonghan and Seungcheol. Their hearts ached at the sheer vulnerability in Jihoon’s voice, the fear woven into his every word.
Jisoo turned his glare back to Seungcheol’s mother, his body shielding Jihoon instinctively. His voice was unwavering, commanding.
"Get her out of here. I don't want her near our house anymore."
Seungcheol barely hesitated. He nodded firmly, understanding completely.
Jisoo turned to Jeonghan next. "Help me bring him upstairs."
Without hesitation, Jeonghan moved, carefully lifting Jihoon into his arms. The beta instinctively curled against him, his arms wrapping weakly around Jeonghan’s neck. He buried his face in the alpha’s chest, seeking warmth.
As they disappeared up the stairs, the room fell into a tense silence. Only Seungcheol, Wonwoo, and Seungcheol’s mother remained.
Seungcheol’s mother scoffed, shaking her head. “See? He’s fine. You all were—”
A low, dangerous growl ripped through the air.
Wonwoo.
Seungcheol’s mother flinched, startled by the sheer intensity of it.
"He wasn’t fine," Wonwoo snapped, his voice filled with barely restrained fury. "He collapsed on the street. Alone. I just happened to be passing by. If I hadn’t found him, he could have frozen to death." His glare darkened as he took a step closer, his voice dropping to a near-snarl. "And he could have lost the baby."
The color drained from Seungcheol’s mother’s face. Her lips parted in shock as she slowly turned to Seungcheol.
"Jihoon… is pregnant?"
Seungcheol closed his eyes, exhaling heavily. There was no point hiding it anymore. "Yes, he is." His voice was weary, tinged with anger and regret. "I was going to tell you today. And now, because of you, we almost lost both our mate and our pup." He took a deep breath, his expression hardening. "I never wanted to believe Jihoon and Jeonghan when they said things about you. I defended you. But now, I see how wrong I was." His voice turned cold, his next words final. "I don’t want to see you near my mates anymore. And I don’t want you in my house."
Wonwoo stepped forward, nodding. "I’ll take her home."
Seungcheol turned to him with gratitude before he started walking away, but before he could leave, his mother suddenly grabbed his arm, her voice desperate.
"You can't just send me away with a stranger, Seungcheol! I am your mother! I have a right to be here!"
Seungcheol looked down at her hand, then back up into her tear-filled eyes. He gently pushed her hand away.
"No, you don’t. Not after what you’ve done. Not after you hurt my mates." His voice was calm but unyielding. He met her gaze, his words cutting deep. "And Wonwoo isn’t a stranger." He paused, his next words laced with years of pent-up bitterness. "Now I understand why Dad divorced you."
His mother let out a strangled gasp, but Seungcheol didn’t stay to hear her cries. He walked away, her sobs fading into the distance.
Tonight, everything had changed.
And Seungcheol had made his choice.
He lost his mother, but he already had a family that need him. And he won't allow anyone to hurt them.
The fireplace in their room crackled softly, casting a golden glow across the walls and filling the space with comforting warmth. The scent of their shared nest lingered in the air—a mix of their pheromones blending seamlessly, creating an atmosphere of safety and belonging. It was the kind of warmth that wrapped around them like an embrace, shielding them from the harshness of the world outside.
Jeonghan carried Jihoon carefully in his arms, mindful of how feverish and weak the beta had become. His usually alert eyes were glazed over, his skin damp with sweat. As soon as Jeonghan reached the bed, he laid Jihoon down gently, making sure he was comfortable before stepping back. Jisoo was already there, his movements swift and precise as he pulled a thick blanket over Jihoon’s small frame, ensuring he was properly covered.
A deep frown settled on Jeonghan’s face. His voice was firm but edged with worry as he spoke.
"I don’t know what you were thinking when you decided to listen to her, Jihoon. You—"
A sharp glare from Jisoo cut him off. The omega’s eyes, usually filled with warmth, were cold and unyielding now.
"He doesn’t need this right now. Leave."
Jeonghan exhaled heavily, recognizing the protective stance Jisoo had taken over Jihoon. He held Jisoo’s gaze for a moment before relenting. With a softer expression, he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Jisoo’s forehead before shifting to Jihoon. He placed a delicate kiss on the beta’s burning skin, lingering for just a second, then silently left the room.
Jisoo let out a breath, his focus returning to Jihoon, whose flushed cheeks had deepened in color. His fever was worsening.
"Shua," Jihoon’s voice was weak but clear as he looked up at Jisoo with half-lidded eyes. "Cuddle me."
Jisoo’s heart clenched at the sight. His mate looked so small, so vulnerable. Without hesitation, he cupped Jihoon’s cheek, his thumb brushing over the overheated skin in a soothing motion.
"I will, love. Let me just get some medicine for you. You need it."
Jihoon gave a small nod, his body too exhausted to protest. Jisoo got up and moved to the nearby drawer, quickly grabbing a few fever pills before pouring a glass of water. He returned to Jihoon’s side, helping him sit up just enough to take the medicine. Jihoon swallowed obediently, his body trembling slightly as he leaned back against the pillows.
Jisoo wasted no time slipping under the covers, gathering Jihoon into his arms. The beta immediately curled into his warmth, seeking comfort. But his body was still too cold. With a concerned frown, Jisoo reached for more blankets, piling them over Jihoon in an attempt to keep him warm. He gently rubbed Jihoon’s shoulder, his touch firm yet careful, trying to chase away the lingering chill in his mate’s body.
Minutes passed in silence, the only sound being Jihoon’s slow, uneven breathing. Then, the door creaked open. Jisoo’s head snapped up, his body tensing slightly until he saw Jeonghan stepping back into the room. His expression was unreadable, but there was a hint of concern in his usually composed features.
"Wonwoo said he found him collapsed on the street," Jeonghan murmured, his voice quieter this time. "I called our doctor to come check on him. He’ll be arriving soon."
Jisoo gave a small nod, relieved. They needed professional help. Jihoon was strong, but his body had clearly reached its limit.
A quiet rustling of blankets caught their attention. Jihoon shifted slightly, his fevered gaze landing on Jeonghan. His lips parted, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Alpha…"
Jeonghan was by his side in an instant, his usual teasing nature absent as he climbed onto the bed and pulled Jihoon close. He didn’t hesitate, lowering his head to nuzzle against Jihoon’s scent glands, inhaling deeply before pressing gentle kisses against them. The familiar scent washed over Jihoon, grounding him, comforting him. His tense body melted into Jeonghan’s embrace, his breathing evening out as he finally allowed himself to rest.
Between the warmth of their nest and the presence of his mates, Jihoon finally felt safe.
Jeonghan held Jihoon close, his grip firm yet gentle, as he continued scenting him. Jihoon let out a slow, shaky breath, his body gradually relaxing under the soothing presence of his alpha. Jisoo, still wrapped around Jihoon’s other side, watched with soft, worried eyes, his fingers absentmindedly tracing calming circles on the beta’s arm.
For a moment, the room was silent, the only sounds coming from the soft crackling of the fireplace and Jihoon’s uneven breathing. The warmth of their shared space enveloped them, but Jeonghan could still feel the slight shivers running through Jihoon’s body.
Jisoo pressed a kiss to Jihoon’s damp forehead, his voice barely above a whisper. "You scared us, love," he murmured. "You shouldn’t have been out there alone."
Jihoon made a quiet noise in response, his eyelids heavy. He knew he had worried them, but his mind was too foggy to process much more than the warmth surrounding him. He shifted slightly, nestling deeper into Jeonghan’s chest, his hands weakly gripping at Jeonghan’s shirt as if afraid he’d disappear.
Jeonghan sighed, tightening his hold. "I won’t leave, sweetheart," he murmured, pressing another kiss to Jihoon’s temple. "Neither of us will."
Jisoo hummed in agreement, adjusting the blankets once more. Jihoon was always so stubborn, always pushing himself too hard. But right now, all they needed to do was take care of him.
"The baby is fine. And he is also fine. He just needs to rest," the doctor explained to Jeonghan outside their room, his voice gentle yet firm. The weight of worry that had been pressing down on Jeonghan's chest eased slightly, though not entirely. He let out a quiet breath, nodding as he murmured a grateful, "Thank you, doctor."
The doctor offered a reassuring smile before excusing himself, leaving Jeonghan standing in the dimly lit hallway. For a moment, he just stood there, collecting his thoughts. The past few hours had been a whirlwind of emotions—fear, anger, relief—all blending together in an exhausting haze. But now, knowing that both of them were safe, he finally felt like he could breathe.
With a final glance down the hall, he turned and stepped back into the room.
Jihoon immediately perked up at the sound of the door opening. His eyes, still slightly tired, searched Jeonghan’s face before flickering behind him. A small pout formed on his lips as he frowned.
"Where is Seungcheol?" he asked, his voice quiet but expectant.
Jeonghan paused. Right. They hadn't seen Seungcheol since Jihoon had returned, and he knew exactly where the older had gone.
"I’ll go find him," he assured them, his voice soft yet determined. His mates didn’t protest, only nodding as he turned on his heels and stepped back out.
The hallways felt quieter now, the tension from earlier still lingering in the air. Jeonghan knew where to go—there was only one place Seungcheol would be.
As he reached the room and pushed the door open, his heart clenched at the sight before him.
Seungcheol was there, just as he had expected, sitting beside their daughter’s bed. His large, strong hand gently caressed her tiny cheek as she slept peacefully, unaware of the storm of emotions raging inside her father. His expression was soft but deeply sorrowful, the corners of his lips twitching in a forced attempt at a smile when he sensed Jeonghan’s presence.
Jeonghan stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Knew you’d be here."
Seungcheol smiled, but Jeonghan could see right through it. It wasn’t a smile of relief. It was a sad one—filled with guilt and regret.
"I’m sorr—"
"Don’t you dare say it, Cheol," Jeonghan cut him off immediately, his voice firm yet gentle.
Seungcheol let out a heavy sigh, standing up to fully face him. His jaw clenched, his eyes filled with emotions he was trying to suppress. "It is, though," he whispered. "She’s my mother, Han. And I trusted her. But I was wrong. Because of that, we could’ve lost our mate and our pup—our baby, who’s already at high risk." His voice wavered at the end, the pain evident in every word.
Jeonghan saw the way he was struggling to hold back his tears. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Seungcheol, pulling him into a comforting embrace.
Seungcheol immediately melted into him, his strong arms wrapping tightly around Jeonghan’s waist. He buried his face in the crook of Jeonghan’s neck, inhaling his scent as though grounding himself.
"It’s not your fault, believe me," Jeonghan murmured against his ear. "She’s your mother, Cheol. Of course, you expected the best from her. But sometimes, things don’t go the way we hope. That doesn’t make it your fault. Never."
A shaky breath escaped Seungcheol, and Jeonghan felt the wetness of silent tears against his skin. His heart ached for him.
Slowly, he pulled back just enough to cup Seungcheol’s face, his thumbs gently wiping away the stray tears. His fingers traced along his mate’s cheeks, a silent reassurance. Then, leaning in, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss against Seungcheol’s lips.
Seungcheol didn’t hesitate to kiss back. His grip on Jeonghan tightened, one hand cradling the back of his head as he deepened the kiss. Their lips moved together slowly, tenderly, a silent exchange of comfort and love. Seungcheol’s tongue brushed against Jeonghan’s, exploring, savoring—desperate to lose himself in the warmth of his mate.
When they finally pulled apart, their breaths mingled in the space between them, foreheads pressed together.
"Let’s go to the nest room," Jeonghan whispered, his fingers still brushing along Seungcheol’s cheek. "They need their alpha. I need him too."
Seungcheol let out a soft chuckle, his lips curving into a small but genuine smile for the first time that night. He leaned in, pressing a quick peck to Jeonghan’s lips before nodding.
Together, they turned back toward the sleeping child, placing gentle kisses on her forehead. Then, hand in hand, they left the room.
When they entered the nest room, the warmth of the space immediately enveloped them. Jihoon was already fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths. Beside him, Jisoo lay awake, his fingers absentmindedly running through Jihoon’s hair. When he noticed them, he gave them a knowing smile.
"Took you two long enough," he teased quietly. "He ended up falling asleep while waiting."
The two chuckled softly, shaking their heads.
Seungcheol was the first to step inside fully, making his way to the bed. Jeonghan followed behind, closing the door gently behind him.
Without another word, the two of them slipped into bed, settling in on either side of their mates. The warmth of their family surrounded them, and for the first time in a long while, it finally felt like they could rest.
As Jeonghan settled into the bed, he let out a quiet sigh, his body finally beginning to relax. The past few days had been nothing short of exhausting—physically, mentally, and emotionally. But now, with his family safe and his mates beside him, he could finally let his guard down, even if just for a little while.
Seungcheol lay beside Jihoon, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the younger’s arm. Jihoon stirred slightly at the touch but didn’t wake, only nuzzling closer into Jisoo’s warmth. Jisoo, who had been watching them, let out a soft chuckle.
"He was worried about you, you know," Jisoo murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he glanced at Seungcheol. "He tried to wait, but his body gave out before his mind could."
Seungcheol’s gaze softened as he took in Jihoon’s peaceful face. "I know," he said, voice laced with guilt. "I should’ve been here sooner."
Jeonghan reached over, resting a hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder. "You needed a moment," he reminded him gently. "And that’s okay. But you’re here now, and that’s what matters."
Seungcheol let out a slow breath, nodding. He turned slightly to press a gentle kiss against Jihoon’s forehead before doing the same to Jisoo. Jisoo smiled at him, a silent acknowledgment of everything left unsaid.
Jeonghan, who had been watching them, felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest. No matter how hard things got, no matter how many obstacles they faced, this—they—were what made it all worth it.
He turned his attention back to Seungcheol, watching as the older man finally allowed himself to relax. He could still see the traces of worry in his expression, but there was something else now, too—acceptance. A silent promise that they would get through this together.
"Sleep," Jeonghan whispered, reaching over to lace his fingers with Seungcheol’s. "You need it."
Seungcheol gave a small hum of agreement but didn’t respond, already letting his body sink into the warmth of the nest.
One by one, they all drifted into sleep, their breaths steady and synchronized, the bond between them as strong as ever.
For the first time in what felt like forever, everything was still. Everything was safe.
And for now, that was enough.