Minji told me to meet her again in the same cafe.
Minji sat down across from me and for a long moment, she didn't speak. Her shoulders were stiff, her back ramrod straight, as though just being here — just sitting across from me — was a crime.
I stirred the ice in my coffee with the straw, letting the sound break the silence.
"You came," I said finally.
Minji's eyes narrowed. "You followed me," they said instead, her tone flat but sharp enough to cut through the table between us.
I grinned. "You make it sound so creepy."
"Because it was creepy," Minji hissed. "Do you think I didn't notice you trailing me from the escalators? People were looking!"
"Oh nice," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Maybe they'll think we're on a date."
Minji froze, her lips curling into a scowl. "This isn't a joke, Seojoon."
"No," I agreed, swirling the straw again. "It's not."
We stared at each other for a moment — two people with far too much history and even more unsaid words.
I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand, smiling lazily. "You look prettier than I remember. Stress suits you."
Her face went red, not from embarrassment but fury. "Are you flirting with me right now?"
"Maybe," I said with a shrug. "Maybe I just like seeing you angry. Makes your face do that little thing—"
"Stop it," Minji snapped, slamming her palm flat against the table.
The sound drew a few stares from nearby tables. I only smiled wider.
"You know, you're still fun when you're mad."
"We're both are omegas."
"That doesn't mean we can't be with the one you love right.."
Minji glared at me for a long, long moment, then exhaled sharply through her nose and leaned back. "Shut up. Yoau are too much."
"And you're still here," I said softly.
That made her flinch, just barely, like they weren't expecting me to call them out and she rolled her eyes.
The silence stretched between us until finally Minji spoke, her voice quieter this time.
"Why are you really here, Seojoon?"
I tilted my head, pretending to think about it. "Maybe I wanted to see you."
"Liar."
"Maybe," I said again, my smile sharpening, "I wanted him to find out. Maybe I wanted to ruin his perfect little life."
Minji's jaw tightened. "You still hate him that much?"
I let the smile falter this time. "Hate?" I echoed, letting the word roll around my tongue like bitter wine. "Hate is too weak of a word."
Their expression softened a fraction — not sympathy, not yet, but curiosity.
"You could have moved on," Minji said carefully.
"I could have," I agreed. "But then he went and married you and dumped me with Jihwa."
The words hung in the air like smoke, suffocating and impossible to ignore.
Minji's hands tightened on the table edge, knuckles pale. "You think I wanted this marriage?"
"Didn't you?" I asked, my voice almost too soft.
That was when Minji laughed — short, bitter, humorless. "You think being married to Kang Taejun is some kind of prize? I didn't choose this, Seojoon. None of this."
That made me pause.
She leaned forward, voice dropping low, raw in a way I had never heard from them.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
"I took care of Jihwa when he was 1-6 years old."
"I know," I said finally, my voice quiet.
Minji's eyes widened. "You— what?"
"I knew," I repeated, smiling faintly though it felt heavier than it should have. "From the very beginning."
Minji stared at me, stunned into silence, before they scoffed softly and looked away. "Of course you did. He's your son afterall."
I let out a small laugh, though there was no humor in it. "And treat him like he's yours."
Something in her expression cracked — just slightly — before they straightened their shoulders again, putting the mask back on.
"Why are you really here?" Minji asked again, this time quieter.
I tilted my head, grinning. "Maybe I came to steal you away from him."
Minji's lips curled into a half-smirk despite themselves. "Flirting with me won't make me your revenge toy."
"Who said it's just revenge?" I said softly.
That made Minji freeze.
And for the first time since sitting down, I let them see a fraction of the truth in my expression — the anger, the hurt, the years of sleepless nights.
"Maybe," I said, voice low, "I just want someone to choose me this time."
Minji's gaze didn't waver. "If you want me to betray him," she said slowly, deliberately, "say it."
I tilted my head, smiling faintly. "What if I do?"
They blinked, startled at my bluntness.
"Would you?" I asked. "Betray him?"
Minji's jaws tightened, but she didn't look away. "I already have. Just by sitting here with you."
Something twisted in my chest at that — satisfaction, guilt, something darker I couldn't name.
"Nice," I said finally. "Then we can stop pretending."
Minji frowned. "Pretending what?"
"That you don't hate him just as much as I do."
Her hands curled into fists in their lap, silent for a long beat. Then, quietly, "You're wrong."
I raised a brow.
"I don't hate him," Minji said, though their voices shook. "I resent him. I resent the way he uses me like a prop. I resent the way he expects me to smile and stand still while he runs around playing the perfect husband."
She stopped, their chest rising and falling faster now.
"But hate?" Minji's laugh was soft and bitter. "Hate takes too much energy. And I already wasted enough of that just staying married to him."
I leaned forward, elbows on the table. "So leave."
Her headsnapped up.
"Walk out," I said. "You're not chained to him."
"You think it's that simple?" Minji hissed, finally losing some of that controlled calm. "You think I can just walk out with a kid in tow and no money because I'm a kept omega in a fake marriage?"
Their voices trembled.
"You think I didn't try?" Minji asked, quieter now, like every word hurt to say. "I went to my parents. They told me to endure. I went to his parents. They told me to be grateful. Everyone told me the same thing — stay put, play the part, shut up."
I stared at her for a long moment, then let out a low whistle. "You always were good at playing the part. Perfect Minji, smiling Minji…" I tilted my head. "What's the real Minji like, I wonder?"
Something flashed in her eyes — a mix of pain and defiance.
"Angry," she admitted, voice so low I almost missed it.
I smiled slowly. "Good. I like you angry."
She rolled their eyes but didn't deny it this time.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The sounds of the mall returned around us — distant chatter, clinking glasses, the faint melody of some pop song playing overhead.
Then Minji said, "You never answered my question."
"Which one?"
"How you met him," they said quietly. "How you and Taejun even started."
I leaned back in my chair, the smile fading from my face.
"That's a long story," I said.
"I have time."
"Do you?" I asked softly. "Because once I tell you, you won't be able to look at him the same way again."
Minji's throat worked as they swallowed, but they nodded.
I studied her for a moment — the fake composure, the too-perfect posture, the tight grip on the edge of the table.
"You really want to know?" I asked again.
"Yes," Minji said, more firmly this time. "I'm tired of being the only one in this marriage who doesn't know who he really is."
I chuckled, low and humorless. "Fine. But not here."
Minji raised a brow. "Why not?"
"Because," I said, standing and tossing a few bills onto the table for the coffee I barely touched, "some stories deserve better than mall food courts."
Minji hesitated, then stood as well.
"You're not tricking me into anything," she said, as if to remind themself more than me.
I smiled, slow and sharp. "If I was going to trick you, Minji, you wouldn't even know."
They glared at me but didn't walk away.
"Tomorrow night," I said. "Same place. Wear something casual. I'm not going to ruin your reputation just yet."
Minji stared at me for a moment, then sighed like they already regretted agreeing. "Fine. But if you're playing some sick game—"
"Wouldn't dream of it," I said lightly, even as my chest tightened.
Minji turned to go, pausing just long enough to throw over her shoulder, "For the record, you're annoying."
"And you're still here," I called after her
She didn't look back — but I swore I saw the corner of her mouth twitch before she disappeared into the crowd.
I stood there for a while, staring after her, the ghost of that almost-smile burned into my memory.
And for the first time in years, I felt something dangerous — something I hadn't let myself feel since Taejun walked away.
Hope.
For revenge.