The morning started quietly. Minjun stood by the bed, pulling on a neatly ironed shirt. His movements were measured, as if he was afraid of revealing the tremor hiding in his fingers. The soft scent of morning tea and the warm light from the window filled the room, but to him, it all seemed distant, as if it wasn't real.
"You're getting ready early," Hyuk's voice came from the kitchen, calm and trusting.
Minjun forced himself to smile, buttoning the last button.
"I have to go to my part-time job," he replied, trying to sound casual. "They said there would be a lot of work today."
Hyuk came out into the hallway, holding a wrapped gimbap. His gaze was warm, slightly sleepy.
"Take this with you. For lunch."
Minjun took the food, and for a second his heart clenched so tightly that he wanted to confess, to tell him everything right there, to hug Hyuk and never let go. But instead, he just smiled briefly, kissed him on the cheek, and, lowering his eyes, put on his shoes.
"I'll be back in the evening," he said quietly.
The door closed behind him with a soft click, and the familiar warmth immediately vanished. Minjun lingered on the landing, took a deep breath, and took out his phone. His fingers trembled as he dialed the secretary's number.
"Please pick me up," he said, barely audibly. "To my father's house."
The car stopped at the massive gates again. The same coldness, the same heaviness hung over him. The house that had once seemed like a fortress was now a prison. The secretary opened the door, and Minjun, as if led by an invisible force, stepped inside.
His father was waiting for him in his study. A large desk, the scent of old books, the cold light from the window - everything looked as if time had stood still.
"You've returned," his father said evenly, almost without emotion. "That means you understand the consequences."
Minjun clenched his fingers, hiding his trembling. His voice was hoarse but firm:
"I... I will come back home. But only on one condition. You will not touch him. Don't go near Hyuk."
Silence hung, as if the air had grown heavier. His father's gaze was long and piercing, but finally, he nodded, as if agreeing:
"Good. If you are here - the alpha will stay out of it."
Minjun bowed his head, and only that way could he hide how much his lips were trembling. He felt like he was trapped in a cage, but there was no other choice.
In the evening, he entered his room. It was the same as before: a flat bed, books on the shelf, neatly folded clothes. But everything felt foreign, cold. Not a single trace of his real life - only the shadow of the past.
He sat on the bed, ran his hand over the blanket, and his heart ached. He remembered the soft pillows in Hyuk's apartment, the scent of his clothes, the warmth of his hands. Everything that was a true home.
Minjun lay down, burying his face in the pillow, and tears began to flow on their own. He pressed his hand to his stomach, where a new life was quietly budding. His child. Their child.
"I'm sorry..." he whispered in the darkness, his voice breaking. "I'll come back... I promise."
But the room remained empty. Only the heavy walls and silence of his parental home weighed on him, turning every breath into a test.
And in his heart, only one thought echoed: "Hyuk... please wait for me."