When Kenji and I returned to Rayle’s house, the air was thick with an unspoken tension. I felt as though every step I took was heavier than the last, the weight of the news pressing down on me. My hands instinctively wrapped around the strap of my bag, holding it tightly as though it could anchor me to reality. I didn’t know how I was going to say it—how could I tell them? How could I make this real? Rayle was the first to notice the shift when we stepped inside. He had been sitting on the couch with Mitsuki, talking quietly, but the moment the door opened and Kenji guided me inside, both of their heads snapped toward us. Rayle’s gaze darted between the two of us, and his expression faltered. “You’re back,” Rayle said softly, his tone uncertain. His sharp eyes studied me like he could already sense something was wrong. “What happened?” I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My body felt frozen, like if I moved or spoke, I’d shatter into a million pieces. Kenji, ever the calm and collected l
The morning sun spilled through the windows of Rayle’s apartment, casting a soft glow over the living room where Haru and his friends had gathered. It had been a day since the doctor’s visit, a day since the truth of Haru’s pregnancy had settled in. The tension still lingered like a shadow, heavy and unavoidable, though the comforting presence of his friends offered a fragile sense of security. Haru sat curled up on the couch, his hands resting unconsciously on his stomach as he stared at the coffee table. His thoughts were tangled—fear, uncertainty, and exhaustion swirling endlessly in his mind. Across from him, Kenji sat with his usual composed demeanor, but there was a gentleness in his eyes that Haru knew he only showed to those he cared about deeply. Rayle perched on the arm of the couch, his body leaning slightly forward as though he wanted to reach out but didn’t know how. Mitsuki sat cross-legged on the rug, absently twirling a strand of his hair, while Aoi’s face filled the
The days after I made the decision to leave were filled with quiet chaos. It felt surreal—like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, the weight of my choice pressing down on me. I wanted to leave without looking back, but the thought of sneaking away from everything I’d ever known filled me with a strange kind of sadness. Still, I knew I had to do it. Staying meant putting myself—and my baby—at risk. And I couldn’t let that happen. Kenji, Mitsuki, and Aoi were relentless in their support. They immediately began making plans, working together as if they had done this a hundred times before. But I could see the tension in their faces, the seriousness in their voices. This wasn’t just about me leaving—it was about leaving without being found. “We’ll make sure everything is seamless,” Kenji said, sitting across from me in Rayle’s living room. He was calm, as always, but there was a sharp edge to his voice. “Jiro Fujibayashi won’t have a clue where you’ve gone.” Hearing Jiro’s name mad
It’s been three years since I left everything behind. Three years since I made the choice to disappear without a trace, to escape a life that threatened everything I was trying to protect. I never imagined how different life would be when I moved abroad, how much it would change me. But somehow, I made it work. Now, I find myself sitting in the park, watching Hibiki chase after a ball he kicked too far. The sun is warm, and the breeze is just enough to be comforting. Hibiki’s laughter rings out, pure and bright. He’s the most precious thing in my life, and I’ve fought so hard to keep him safe, to give him a life that is free of the fears and uncertainties I lived through. I can’t help but watch him with a soft smile, even as my heart tightens. He’s growing up so fast. The toddler I once held in my arms is now running around like a little boy, full of energy, full of life. It feels like just yesterday I was holding him close, whispering promises that I would always be there for him.
Returning to my homeland was something I never imagined I'd do, but here I was. Three years had passed since I left everything behind—the pain, the memories, and the man who haunted both. Hibiki clung to my side, his tiny hand gripping mine as we walked through the familiar streets of the city I once called home. He was growing so fast. I hadn’t expected it, but I felt a strange warmth in my chest as I watched him interact with my friends, who had been so welcoming and eager to meet him. “Your little one is just like you,” Rayle had said with a teasing smile when Hibiki shyly hid behind my legs, peeking out at the group. I had laughed nervously, running a hand through my hair. “He’s a little shy, but he’s a tough kid.” Kenji, always calm and composed, gave Hibiki a warm nod. “He’ll get used to it. It’s good to see you back, Haru. We’ve missed you.” Mitsuki had agreed, her voice light with excitement, “You’ve been away for so long, but now we can all be together again. Hibiki will
It had been weeks since I first saw him again, standing across the room like some towering figure out of my past. Jiro Fujibayashi. Even now, I could still feel the pulse of recognition every time I saw him, though I did everything in my power to avoid him. He didn’t seem to remember me—at least, not in any immediate way—but that didn’t mean I could relax. Not when he still looked the same, still had that same powerful presence that made everyone gravitate toward him. It wasn’t like I had a choice. We were working in the same company now, albeit in different departments. I worked in a lower position, focused on project management, while Jiro, as the CEO, hovered above it all. The building, sleek and polished, had a professional air that I tried to keep up, even as I felt my world slowly unravel. Every time I walked through the corridors, the tension in my chest grew tighter, like some invisible force pulling at my heartstrings. At first, it was easy to keep my distance. I made sure
I took a deep breath, holding Hibiki close as I made my way toward the elevator. The moment Jiro’s gaze locked with mine, I felt a wave of panic surge through me, but I couldn’t afford to show it. My body was tense, every muscle coiled, but I had to remain calm for Hibiki’s sake. My mind screamed at me to get out of there, to get my son away from him, but my feet felt frozen. When I saw Jiro’s eyes fall to Hibiki, the small flutter in my chest grew. I could tell by the way he looked at him that he saw something. I didn’t want him to see. I didn’t want him to notice the way Hibiki’s eyes were so strikingly similar to his. Or the way Hibiki’s hair curled in the same way, despite the difference in color. Jiro was too observant for his own good, and I knew the longer he looked, the more questions would arise. And of course, Hibiki—oblivious to the complexities of our past—reached out toward Jiro with that innocent, childlike trust. I almost couldn’t bear it. When Hibiki greeted Jiro wi
Jiro stood there in the hallway, his eyes instinctively drawn to the child Haru had brought with him. The boy, a toddler, was clutching Haru’s hand tightly, his curious gaze scanning the unfamiliar surroundings of the office. But it wasn’t just the boy’s innocence that caught Jiro’s attention. No, it was something far deeper than that. The child’s features were strikingly similar to his own—more than a mere resemblance, it was almost uncanny. The curve of his jaw, the color of his eyes, even the way his hair framed his face. Jiro felt a strange, unsettling tug in his chest as he stared at the boy, trying to piece it together. His mind raced, but the connection remained elusive. Then there was the scent. The familiar, comforting, and yet strangely intoxicating scent that hung in the air. It wasn’t just Haru’s scent, which Jiro had recognized the moment he walked into the building, but something more, something mingling with it. It took Jiro a moment to realize it: the boy’s scent was
The moment we stepped through the front door, the rush of warmth that came over me was more than just the physical heat of our home. It was the embrace of familiarity, of being home. I had missed this place more than I’d realized. The sound of our children’s voices filled the air before I could even take off my shoes, and I felt a lump rise in my throat as they ran toward us.“Papa! Daddy!” they called out in perfect unison, their voices full of excitement, joy, and love. The sight of Hibiki, Mina, and Ren rushing toward us was enough to make my heart swell in ways I couldn’t quite describe.I knelt down as fast as I could, trying to catch them all in one go. Mina, being the most affectionate of the three, immediately flung herself into my arms, wrapping her little arms around my neck and burying her face against me. I chuckled, holding her close as I breathed in her familiar scent. The warmth of her tiny body against mine was all I needed to feel complete.“We missed you so much, Pap
It had been years since Jiro and I had taken a vacation just for the two of us. Life had been a constant whirlwind of work, family, and responsibilities. There was always something that needed attention, and as much as I loved our children, the routine had worn us both thin. So when Jiro suggested a quiet getaway, I jumped at the chance. A beach vacation, just the two of us. No kids, no work, just time to reconnect.As we sat in the taxi that was taking us to the airport, I couldn't help but feel a small pang of guilt. Hibiki and Mina were both old enough now to take care of themselves—Mina with her calm and mature demeanor, Hibiki with his protective nature as a big brother—but still, they were our children. Leaving them behind for a few days felt strange, even if we were leaving them in capable hands."You’re still worried, aren’t you?" Jiro said, his voice soft but knowing. He had always been able to read me so easily.I looked at him, offering a small smile. "A little. They’re gro
The warmth of Jiro's presence lingered as I drifted into a peaceful sleep, my body finally giving in to the exhaustion that had been building up over the past few days. There was something comforting about knowing he was still awake, making sure everything was in order, while I let my mind wander into quiet oblivion. I woke up a few hours later to find the room dim, the soft glow of moonlight spilling through the large windows, casting gentle shadows across the room. The house was silent, the only sound being the occasional rustle of the wind outside. For a brief moment, I couldn't remember where I was, disoriented by the unfamiliar stillness. But as my senses returned, I realized I was in our shared bedroom—safe and secure, just the way I liked it. Jiro was no longer sitting in the chair, but I could hear the faint sound of footsteps outside, followed by a muffled voice. It sounded like he was checking on the kids. I smiled to myself, knowing that his love for our family was as con
The house had fallen into a peaceful quiet, the kind that only comes when the day has ended and everyone is tucked away in their respective rooms. The usual hum of energy, the laughter, and the occasional bickering had all faded, leaving just the soft ticking of the clock and the distant sound of a night breeze rustling through the trees outside. Jiro and I were in the living room, alone for the first time in what felt like hours. It had been a busy day, filled with the hustle and bustle of family life, and now, as Ren fell asleep in his room, it was just the two of us. A rare luxury these days. I was curled up on the couch, a soft blanket draped over my legs. Jiro, ever the picture of effortless strength, was sitting in the armchair opposite me, his body still, but his eyes not leaving me for a second. There was something about the silence that stretched between us—comfortable, yet somehow full of unspoken thoughts. “Everything’s quiet now,” Jiro said, his voice low and calm, the
The decision weighed heavily on my mind. The evening had fallen into a quiet stillness, the kind where every little movement seemed to echo. The kids were waiting in the living room, looking at me with those expectant eyes. They were so eager, so sure of themselves. The promise of freedom—the promise of a trip where they could explore and grow, just the four of them—was something they were all craving. And yet, part of me still hesitated. I had spent years watching over Hibiki and Mina, making sure they were safe from the world. I had been there for them in their moments of need, guiding them with a gentle hand, protecting them from the dangers that life could throw their way. But now, they were growing up. They weren’t the small children who needed constant supervision anymore. They were capable, strong, and ready for challenges of their own. Hibiki, my eldest, was already showing the world that he was becoming a man in his own right, not just an Omega, but a responsible and strong
The morning sun had just begun to spill through the windows, casting a warm glow across the living room. It was a quiet, peaceful Saturday, the kind of morning that held a promise of relaxation. Jiro was still upstairs, likely working on some paperwork for the company, and the kids—Hibiki and Mina—were in the kitchen, arguing over what they should have for breakfast. I stood in the hallway, listening to their usual banter, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. As much as they could drive each other crazy, it was clear that they were as close as ever, always there for one another in their own little sibling way. I took a sip of my tea, feeling the warmth spread through me, and settled into my usual spot on the couch. I had been looking forward to a quiet day with the family, a chance to relax and maybe take a walk in the park later. But little did I know that today was going to bring an unexpected request. Hibiki was the first to appear in the living room. His black hair was stil
The air had a crispness to it that morning, the kind that hinted at the approaching shift of seasons. Summer was slipping away, its warmth receding into the past, and autumn was slowly unfurling its golden hues across the horizon. It was the kind of day that felt both reflective and hopeful, a perfect backdrop for the next chapter of our lives. Jiro and I were standing in the kitchen of our house, the space full of warmth and the scent of freshly brewed coffee. The kids had already eaten breakfast and were getting ready for the day ahead. Hibiki, now in his second year of high school, was making sure his fencing gear was packed and ready for the upcoming competition. Mina, in her third grade, was drawing pictures of planets—her latest obsession was the stars and space exploration. And Ren, ever the curious little one, was running around the house, asking a million questions per minute, his boundless energy never seeming to tire. I watched all of them for a moment, feeling a deep sen
There was something about the rest house deep in the woods that always brought a sense of peace to our family. It was one of those places where time seemed to slow down, where the weight of the world could be set aside, if only for a little while. The house itself was cozy, nestled between towering trees that surrounded it like silent guardians. A large stone fireplace stood in the living room, crackling with warmth as we gathered around, the smell of pine and earth heavy in the air. We had come here for a weekend getaway, a rare chance for all of us to just be together without the distractions of the city, without the pressure of work, school, or responsibilities. Jiro had insisted on this trip—something about needing to reconnect with the simple joys of life. I could see it in his eyes; the weight of his corporate world had been taking a toll on him lately, and this was his way of hitting the reset button. Of course, the moment he mentioned it, the kids were all for it. Hibiki, Min
As the days went by after Mina’s manifestation, I couldn’t help but notice the subtle changes in her. There was a quiet shift in the way she carried herself, a confidence that blossomed from deep within her. I had always known Mina to be the calm, composed, and intelligent child, but now she exuded a different kind of strength—one that came with the acceptance of who she truly was. However, despite her calm demeanor, I couldn’t ignore the tension that seemed to creep into the air whenever she was around others. It was something I noticed not only in her but also in Hibiki, her older brother. Hibiki had always been protective of his younger sister, but now, after her manifestation as an Omega, his protectiveness had grown tenfold. It wasn’t just that he wanted to keep her safe. It was something deeper, something innate in his very being as a Dominant Alpha. As his younger sister, Mina was now seen by other alphas in ways they hadn't before, and while that fact made her uncomfortable,