(Jihwa pov)
The apartment was too quiet. Every tick of the clock on the wall grated on my nerves, each second dragging longer than the last. I paced the living room, hands shoved into my pockets, heart pounding for reasons I couldn't explain.
Earlier, I visited Dohyun at the hospital. He seems to be doing alot better than before. I'm glad he's finally healing from his trauma. He's so strong, how the hell could he even handle such pain?
I smile all day with him hoping he'd be better. Hell. Who knew smiling could hurt so bad. It was worth it though.
Dad had been gone too long.
I tried telling myself he could handle anything. Dad was steady, unshakable—or at least that's what I always believed. But the truth was, he was still human. He could break. And I hated how powerless I felt, waiting here, useless. Back when I was younger he was completely broken when that old man, I guess it's time to reveal his name, Kang Taejun married someone and divorced him. I also too felt heartbroken. He was never really nice to me anyways.
My phone lit up on the table. I lunged for it, only to see no new messages. Just the screen mocking me with silence.
"Damn it," I muttered, raking a hand through my hair.
Dohyun's face flashed in my mind—too pale, too thin, smiling at me with that broken expression that wasn't really a smile at all. My stomach twisted. He had suffered enough, and now Dad was out somewhere.
I slammed my fist lightly against the wall, then immediately pulled back, flexing my hand. Anger was easier than fear, but it didn't change the fact that I was just standing here, waiting.
Waiting for what? For dad to come back drunk and broken? For Dohyun to fall apart again? For Hyok to crawl out of whatever hole the police had stuffed him into?
I hated waiting. I'm a terrible person. Not the type dohyun thinks I am.
The shadows in the room shifted as a car passed outside, headlights spilling across the floor. For a second, my chest tightened, my body braced like an animal cornered. It took a moment before I exhaled, realizing it wasn't him. Not Hyok. Not danger. Just my paranoia chewing me alive.
"Get it together, Jihwa," I whispered to myself, gripping the edge of the table until my knuckles whitened.
I wasn't like Dohyun. I hadn't been broken by Hyok's hands, but I could see the pieces of him scattered everywhere. And now dad… whatever he was doing out there… I could feel the cost bleeding into me, even without knowing the details.
A bitter taste coated my tongue. I hated myself for not being strong enough. For not knowing how to fix any of this. For not being able to protect the people I loved most and as these people say. "It must be pathetic being a beta. There are nothing but useless creatures who can't even sense pheromones. They should just die.."
Now I'm starting to believe them.
But one thing I knew for certain: I wouldn't sit back forever. If dad and Dohyun carried the weight of sacrifice, then I would find a way to carry mine too.
Because no matter how much it hurt, no matter how powerless I felt right now, I refused to be the weak link.
I turned, staring at the darkened window, fists clenched tight. The city beyond was wide and merciless, but I swore under my breath:
"I'll protect them. Whatever it takes."
And in that silence, with my chest aching and the weight of the unknown pressing in, I realized this was the only promise I could make—and the only one I couldn't afford to break.
The front door clicked.
I froze mid-step, my breath catching in my throat. For a heartbeat, fear gripped me—irrational, sharp. I half-expected Hyok to step through, grinning like a nightmare that wouldn't end.
But then the door swung open, and it was dad.
Relief hit me so hard my knees almost buckled. "Dad—" I started, but the word stuck in my throat. Something was… wrong.
Dad stepped inside slowly, shoulders heavy, his shirt rumpled in a way that wasn't like him.
I have no idea what the hell has he done, but why the hell he looks like crap. Don't tell me he went drinking and had a fight. Now I'm mad.
"You're late," I said, my voice sharper than I meant. "Where were you?"
He didn't answer right away. Just closed the door, slid off his shoes, and moved past me like I was made of glass. His eyes avoided mine, fixed instead on the hallway.
My chest tightened. "Dad." I grabbed his wrist before he could disappear into his room. His skin was cold, too cold. "Talk to me. Please."
For a moment, he just stood there, unmoving. Then finally, he glanced at me—and that was worse than silence. His eyes looked… hollow. Like he'd left something behind, something I couldn't see but could feel pressing down on him.
"I handled it," he said softly, his voice controlled, careful. Too careful.
"That's not an answer," I snapped, heat rushing up my throat. "Handled what? What did you do? You can't just vanish, leave me and Dohyun worrying, and then come back like—like this!"
His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking, but he didn't raise his voice. He never did. "Jihwa. It's done. That's all you need to know."
The finality in his tone cut through me, sharp and merciless. But beneath it, I caught something else—regret.
My hands curled into fists at my sides. "You're hiding something. I can tell."
Dad's gaze softened, just barely. He reached out and brushed his hand against my shoulder, a fleeting touch, like he was afraid he might break me if he lingered. "All you need to do is focus on Dohyun. Keep him safe. I'll handle the rest."
My throat burned. Anger clawed at me, but so did fear. I wanted to push, to demand the truth—but the exhaustion in his face stopped me. Whatever he had done tonight, it had cost him. And I wasn't sure I was ready to hear the price.
So instead, I swallowed hard and forced out the words that had been eating at me all night. "Don't shut me out, Dad. Please. If you keep carrying everything alone… one day, you won't be able to anymore."
Something flickered in his expression—pain, guilt, love all tangled together. But he didn't answer. He just pulled me briefly into his arms, held me so tightly it hurt, and whispered into my hair:
"As long as I breathe, I'll protect you."
And then he let go, retreating down the hall like a shadow.
I stood there in the living room, my chest aching, my fists trembling. I hated the silence he left behind. Hated the secrets. Hated how small I felt compared to the weight he carried.
But one thing was clear—whatever he had sacrificed tonight, it was for me. For us. And I couldn't let that be for nothing.
I turned, staring at the door as if I could see through it, out into the dark world beyond. My jaw clenched, resolve burning in my chest.
If dad was willing to destroy himself to protect me and Dohyun, then I would fight twice as hard to protect him back.
Even if it meant breaking myself in the process.
It's not fair. I don't want to be weak.
His shirt was damp where my face pressed against him, but his hand only hovered on my back, trembling as if the simple act of touching me burned.
"Dad," I whispered, voice raw. "Why do you always push me away?"
He stiffened, his breath sharp through his nose. For a long time, he said nothing. Just silence, heavy and unbearable, filling the space between us.
I lifted my head, searching his face. His eyes were tired, shadowed by something I couldn't name. But he didn't meet my gaze—he never did when it mattered most.
"Is it because I'm weak?" I asked, the words spilling out before I could stop them. My throat clenched, my chest aching. "Because I can't protect you the way you protect me?"
His jaw tightened. Still no answer.
The silence stabbed deeper than any words. I felt my heart splinter, but I forced myself to keep going. "You think I don't see it? The nights you don't come home. The way you hide the bruises, the smell of smoke, of bars. You think I don't notice how you vanish into secrets?"
Finally, his eyes flickered to mine, just for a heartbeat—shattered, guilty, but still guarded.
"Jihwa," he murmured, his voice soft, careful, almost pleading. "Some things… aren't meant for you to carry."
The words crushed me. My hands tightened into fists at his chest. "But I already do carry it! Every day, I carry the fear of losing you, of not knowing where you are, what's happening to you. Don't you understand? It hurts more not knowing!"
His face crumpled, just for an instant, but then he smoothed it away, lips pressed into a line. "You're too young," he said quietly. "You deserve a father who keeps you safe. That's all you should know."
My throat burned, and tears blurred my vision. "But I don't want safety if it means losing you to secrets. I just want—" My voice cracked, breaking me open. "I just want you."
Tears started streaming down like it's a well that carries out my emotions.
His hand finally settled on my hair, gently pulling me against him. His body was warm, but his silence was colder than winter.
And in that silence, I realized the truth: he wasn't going to tell me. Whatever chains he carried, he had decided to keep them hidden, even if it tore both of us apart.
So I clung to him tighter, desperate, whispering into the hollow of his chest, "Then at least… promise you won't leave me. Even if you won't tell me why."
For a long time, he didn't move. Then, quietly, brokenly, he breathed:
"I promise."
But I could feel the lie beneath it.
I cried at his back wetting his shirt. All he could do was just pat on my head and say: " I love you."
That what it stings the most. I hated the word love. It's means willing to so anything to sacrifice for a special person. I don't want anyone to sacrifice for me. Just don't love me. I don't want people to suffer as well.