(Jihwa pov
I sat on the chair next to Dohyun not letting my guard down. I held my hand on his stomach. Any second or any moment he'd hold another panic attack. I've basically become his babysitter. I didn't mind though, he had suffered way more than I ever could endure.
When Dohyun woke up he turned his face away from the pillow slowly, his eyes red but dry now.
"I'll do it," he said.
I froze. "…Do what?" Please don't say he'll absorb the child.
"The absorption." Dohyun's voice was barely above a whisper, but it was steady. "I'm telling the doctor today."
My hand slowly dropped from Dohyun's stomach, like someone had just cut the strings holding him together.
"You don't have to decide right now," I said carefully, my voice too calm, too careful.
"I do." Dohyun pushed himself up, wincing at the ache in his body. "If I wait any longer, it'll… it'll just hurt worse later."
I stood so suddenly the chair scraped against the floor. "And you think this won't hurt?"
Dohyun's lips pressed into a thin line. "At least this way, I get to choose what hurts."
That shut me up. My jaw clenched, fists tight at my sides — but I didn't argue again. My nail dug deep in my skin hence causing a scar.
Instead, I walked to the window, turning my back to Dohyun.
"You really hate me that much?" Dohyun asked bitterly.
My shoulders stiffened. "No." My voice cracked for the first time. "I just hate that you've been hurt enough to think this is the only way to survive."
The room was silent except for the faint hum of the hospital machines.
"I'm doing it, Jihwa," Dohyun said finally, his voice small but unyielding.
I didn't know how to convince him. All my efforts were a waste.
"Then I'm staying," I said quietly, still facing the window.
Dohyun flinched. "…Why?"
"Because if you're going to break yourself apart," I said, turning back with that same faint, pained smile, "then I'm going to be here to pick up every piece."
And for the first time that morning, Dohyun's breath hitched — because he couldn't tell if that made him want to scream or fall apart in my arms.
Later, I went to my house.
The house was too quiet when I stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind me, but it felt louder than it should have, like the sound was mocking me.
I kicked my shoes off by the door and just stood there for a second, my hands still shoved deep in my pockets, staring into the dark hallway. My chest felt too tight — like if I took one deep breath, I might start shaking and not be able to stop.
A faint light spilled out from the living room.
"Jihwa?"
I froze. Dad's voice was soft, not the sharp tone he used when he was angry, not the smooth tone when he was charming someone — just tired.
He was sitting on the couch with a mug in his hand, still dressed in his work shirt, sleeves rolled up. He looked like he hadn't moved in hours.
"You're still awake?" I asked, trying to sound casual, but my voice cracked anyway.
"I was waiting for you." He nodded toward the empty space on the couch. "Sit down."
I hesitated. For a second, I wanted to say no — to just go upstairs, shut the door, and drown in silence. But my legs moved on their own, and I sank onto the couch.
Dad studied me quietly, the way he always did. "How is he?"
I stared at my hands. "Breathing. Eating. Existing." My throat tightened around the last word.
"That's something."
"It's not enough," I snapped before I could stop myself.
Dad blinked but didn't look offended. "What do you mean?"
I dug my nails into my palms. "He's just… empty. Like every time I look at him, there's less of him there. And I just—" My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard, forcing it steady. "I just keep smiling like some idiot because what else am I supposed to do? He doesn't need my pity."
My dad's gaze softened, and he set the mug down. "He doesn't need your pity, no. But he does need you."
I laughed bitterly. "Need me? For what? To sit there and smile while he tells me he's going to kill the one thing keeping him connected to anything? He doesn't even look at me half the time."
"You're there," Dad said simply. "That's what matters."
I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that just being there wasn't enough — but the words wouldn't come.
Because deep down, I knew he was right.
I stayed there for a while, letting the silence swallow us, until I finally muttered, "I'm going upstairs."
Dad didn't stop me.
Later I went to my room.
The door clicked shut, and the quiet hit me like a punch to the chest.
I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows digging into my knees, staring at the ceiling until it became nothing but a blur.
The silence was so loud it hurt.
My eyes slid shut.
And suddenly, I was back there. A place so familiar. Back at my old school where I was standing in front of.
I blinked, and I was thirteen again.
The hallway stretched before me, as I walked in there all confused. I wandered around looking for my class but the door stood just ahead, and my stomach dropped.
I entered the classroom and I saw them.
I felt something uneasy in my chest.
Oh no. Not here. Not them.
Their voices hit me before I saw them.
"Betas can't even keep an omega if they try. So don't waste your time."
Laughter rang out, sharp and merciless, bouncing off the walls until it felt like it was closing in on me.
I stood frozen, my fists clenched so hard. My face stayed blank—at least, I prayed it did. I didn't want to see them again.
"You think you're so cool, Jihwa, but be real — betas aren't even as awesome as alphas."
One boy stepped closer, his smirk practically glued to my skin.
"What happens when your omega goes into heat, huh? You think they'll stay loyal? Please. They'll be in an alpha's bed before you can blink."
I didn't reply. Just curved my lips into a smirk, pretending I was untouchable. Pretending their words didn't hit bone.
Then one boy lounged forward and raised his hand and before he could hurt me.
I woke up.
"It was just a dream."
After waking up, I went straight to the bathroom, locked the door, and stared at my reflection under the harsh yellow light.
My throat felt tight. My chest hurts.
"You're just a beta," I whispered to the glass, my breath fogging it up.
The words sounded like a sentence.
"You'll never be enough."
And for a terrifying second, I believed it.
I dragged a hand down my face, coming back to the present with a bitter laugh.
Maybe those kids were right. Maybe betas like me were meant to just stand there and watch while everything they wanted slipped through their fingers.
My chest hurt thinking about Dohyun — the way he'd looked at me today, tears running down his face, asking me why I was judging him.
I hadn't been judging him. I was terrified.
Terrified of losing him.
I stood and walked to the window, staring out at the empty street. My reflection stared back at me in the glass, tired and worn out.
"You're not nothing, Dohyun," I whispered, my throat tight. "Not while I'm here."
For a long moment, I just stood there, one hand pressed against the cool glass.
Then I sat on the floor, my back against the bed, pulling my knees to my chest andI let myself cry. How pitiful and pathetic.