I felt my heartbeat quicken the moment I saw Jiro standing outside my office door. His figure, tall and imposing, loomed in the hallway, his eyes locked onto me with an intensity I couldn’t escape. The air seemed to thicken, as if the very atmosphere recognized the weight of what was about to unfold. I didn’t need to hear his voice to know that he was looking for answers. I had tried my best to keep my life—Hibiki’s life—hidden from him. I had done everything I could to keep the truth buried, to protect my son from a world he didn’t need to know. But now, standing face to face with Jiro once again, the past I had tried so hard to outrun was catching up to me, and I was powerless to stop it. He stepped into the room without waiting for an invitation, his gaze unyielding as he slowly closed the door behind him. The sharp click of it locking felt like a finality, a silent confirmation that we were no longer in the realm of polite conversation. This wasn’t a meeting. This was something
I hadn’t been prepared for this. No one tells you what it feels like when your child is suddenly fighting for their life, when their tiny body is wracked with a fever that burns like fire, when the doctors look at you with that sympathetic, helpless gaze that tells you they’re out of answers. Hibiki had been sick for days. At first, I thought it was just a common cold, something simple that would pass with rest and fluids. But as the days wore on, his condition only worsened. His fever spiked to dangerous levels, and his tiny body became frail, his usually bright eyes dimming with exhaustion. I tried everything I could—medicine, cool compresses, the soothing touch of my hands—but nothing helped. When he collapsed in my arms one morning, I knew something was horribly wrong. I rushed him to the hospital, my heart pounding with fear as I clutched his small form to my chest. The doctors immediately admitted him, running tests, and I felt the panic start to rise in my throat as they mu
I stood in the corner of Hibiki’s hospital room, my arms folded tightly across my chest as I watched him sleep. He was hooked up to machines, tubes and wires that seemed too invasive, too harsh for a child so small and so fragile. His tiny chest rose and fell, the rhythm steady for now, but I could feel the anxiety gnawing at me. The doctors had done their part, but they couldn’t guarantee anything. Hibiki still needed more than what they could give him. I glanced over at Jiro, who stood near the bed, his tall figure filling the room. He was focused, his hands gentle as he stroked Hibiki’s hair, his sharp eyes studying the monitors. His expression was calm, but there was something more—something deeper—that I couldn’t quite read. He wasn’t the man I remembered. The powerful, imposing alpha that once had me at his mercy was now different. There was tenderness in the way he approached Hibiki, a softness in the way he spoke to him. It unsettled me. I had always feared this moment—the m
Jiro sat in his expansive office, the cold, polished surface of the desk reflecting the quiet hum of the room. It was a rare moment of stillness, but even then, his mind refused to settle. Thoughts of Haru and the boy, Hibiki, had been circling in his mind ever since the unexpected encounter at the hospital. The questions gnawed at him, unanswered, but it was the sense of something deeper—a pull, an undeniable connection—that troubled him most. There was something about the child that felt... familiar. Too familiar. And the way Haru had reacted, so desperate, so fearful... it all pointed to something bigger than a simple coincidence. As he leaned back in his chair, the door to his office creaked open, and his secretary, Tanaka, entered with a folder in hand. He had been waiting for this. Tanaka had been tasked with a delicate mission—gathering all the information he could about Haru Tanaka and his son, Hibiki. It was time to find out the truth. Tanaka placed the folder on Jiro’s des
The tension in the air felt suffocating, heavy, as I sat across from Jiro, my heart hammering in my chest. There was no escaping this moment—the truth had finally come out, and there was no more running from the consequences. I had always known this confrontation would come. There was no hiding it forever. But that didn’t make it any easier. Jiro’s piercing gaze never left me. His eyes, dark and sharp, bore into mine, demanding answers I had spent years keeping hidden. His anger was palpable, filling the space between us. But there was something else there too—something softer, more confused, as though he couldn’t quite comprehend why I had kept him in the dark. His voice, low but firm, broke the silence. “Why didn’t you tell me, Haru?” I swallowed hard, my throat dry and tight. My hands trembled in my lap, and I knew he could see the fear in my eyes. I had never wanted to be in this position—to explain myself, to make him understand why I had made the decisions I did. But here I w
The transition from a life I had so carefully constructed for Hibiki to this new, unnerving reality felt like I was walking on a tightrope. One wrong step, one moment of weakness, and everything I’d worked so hard to protect could come crashing down. Jiro had promised he wouldn’t disrupt our lives, but watching him in action—how effortlessly he became part of Hibiki’s world—made it harder to stay distant. I couldn’t help but feel the delicate balance slipping from my grasp. It wasn’t long after our conversation, where I had finally agreed to let Jiro see Hibiki, that he began spending more time with him. At first, it was awkward, almost like he was testing the waters. Hibiki, who had grown so used to my presence, was wary of Jiro’s at first. But something in Jiro’s approach was different. He wasn’t forceful. He didn’t try to take control or insert himself in our routine. Instead, he took the time to learn Hibiki’s quirks, his likes and dislikes, the way his eyes sparkled when he was
The weight of everything seemed to hang in the air between us, pressing down with an intensity that left me feeling both exposed and vulnerable. Jiro’s words echoed in my mind—“I’m here for you. And for Hibiki.” I didn’t know how to respond to that. How could I trust that Jiro wasn’t just some passing presence, something fleeting that might disappear the moment it became inconvenient? I had spent so long hiding behind my walls, keeping myself and Hibiki at a safe distance from the world and all the dangers that came with it. And now, Jiro was here, making me question everything I thought I knew about my life and my heart. He didn’t make it easier. Not by a long shot. Jiro leaned back on the couch, his eyes never leaving me, as if he was searching for something—answers, understanding, or maybe just a glimpse of the man I’d kept hidden behind my defenses. I shifted uncomfortably, my mind racing with thoughts I wasn’t sure I was ready to confront. “Do you know what it’s like?” Jiro’s
It started with a stolen moment. A glance that lingered too long, a brush of fingers that neither of us acknowledged but couldn’t forget. Jiro and I had been walking this fine line for weeks now, dancing around the truth that neither of us dared to say out loud. But that night, everything changed. The office was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Everyone else had gone home, and I had stayed late to finish reviewing some reports. It wasn’t unusual for Jiro to work late either, but I hadn’t expected him to still be here. When I heard the soft knock at the door to my office, I looked up, startled. Jiro stood there, his tie loosened, his jacket slung over one shoulder. He looked exhausted, but his eyes… his eyes held something else. Something that made my pulse quicken. “Still working?” he asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. I nodded, trying to ignore the way my heart raced at the sound of his voice.
It was a quiet Saturday morning when the email came through, almost as though it had arrived by accident, its subject line gliding across the top of Haru’s inbox with the promise of something unexpected. He had been sitting at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee as Hibiki played with his toys nearby. Jiro was out running errands, and the house was filled with the peaceful hum of everyday life. Haru glanced at the message, his fingers pausing mid-sip as he read the subject line again: "Exciting Opportunity with Little Ones Products Inc." Haru furrowed his brow, a mixture of curiosity and hesitation bubbling up within him. He’d been out of the traditional workforce for a few years now, dedicating himself fully to raising Hibiki. After years of working tirelessly in the corporate world, the transition had been both a blessing and a challenge. He enjoyed the time spent with Hibiki—watching him grow, teaching him new things, seeing his little quirks develop. But there were days when Har
The hum of the office was quieter than usual, the usual buzz of activity replaced by an atmosphere that felt more tense than it ever had before. Jiro sat behind his desk, papers scattered around him, his brow furrowed as he stared at the latest email from a rival company. His fingers were frozen above his keyboard as he reread the message for the umpteenth time, but the words still didn’t make sense to him. They were trying to steal his project. It wasn’t just the usual competition, the healthy kind that existed between any two successful companies. This was something more personal. The rival company had launched a campaign against his latest project, spreading false rumors and undermining his credibility in the industry. It wasn’t just about the numbers; it was about his reputation, something Jiro had built from the ground up. This was more than a business issue—it was an attack on his very identity, on everything he had worked for. Jiro exhaled sharply, running a hand through his
The evening was unfolding smoothly. The soft murmur of conversation mingled with the clink of glasses as colleagues, clients, and associates gathered for the work event I had been attending. The lavish ballroom, with its glistening chandeliers and elegant décor, was far from my usual comfort zone. Still, I was happy to be there. The event was a chance for me to connect with important figures in the business world, and while I wasn’t thrilled by the prospect of mingling, Jiro’s presence beside me made it more bearable. His hand occasionally brushed against mine as he greeted guests, his alpha aura quietly protective. It was one of those nights where I couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being watched, but it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. Jiro was always close, his attention ever so subtle, always there. The thought of him being by my side, even when we were surrounded by a crowd of strangers, filled me with a sense of peace. I was halfway through a conversation with a client when I
The morning of Hibiki’s first day at his new school arrived with an air of both excitement and nervousness. I stood at the kitchen counter, watching as Hibiki hurriedly tied his shoes, his small fingers fumbling with the laces in his usual way. The sound of his light chatter filled the room, but it didn’t mask the knot of worry twisting in my stomach. As much as I had wanted this for him—a fresh start, a place where he could grow and thrive—I couldn’t help but feel a pang of concern. Would he be okay? Would he make friends? Would he be able to adjust to the new environment? Jiro, who had been watching from the doorway with a soft smile on his face, must have sensed my unease. He walked over to me, his presence grounding in the midst of my spiraling thoughts. “Haru,” he said, his voice steady, “you’ve raised a strong, resilient kid. Hibiki is going to be just fine.” I turned to look at him, my heart swelling with both gratitude and uncertainty. Jiro had always been the confident on
The afternoon sunlight poured softly through the living room windows, casting warm rays on the polished wooden floors. Jiro and Hibiki were out in the yard, working on one of their usual projects—something about building a treehouse, though I wasn’t sure how much of it was actually construction and how much was just play. It was one of those rare moments where the house was quieter than usual, the only sounds being the occasional hum of a distant car or the birds chirping outside. I had been sitting on the couch, flipping through a book, when I heard the soft padding of footsteps behind me. Turning, I saw Jiro’s mother, Keiko, standing in the doorway, her expression soft and thoughtful. There was something different about her today, something more contemplative. I knew that, like me, she had a lot on her mind lately—Jiro, Hibiki, the wedding, and the new dynamic that had taken hold of our lives. But today, she seemed to have something specific she wanted to say. “May I sit with you
The days after the wedding felt like a dream come true. I kept waiting for the world to turn upside down, to find some reason why I didn’t deserve this kind of happiness. But with each passing day, as Jiro, Hibiki, and I settled into our new life together, I realized that maybe this kind of peace was possible. Maybe we really had built something beautiful. The mornings were the same: quiet, simple, and filled with the comforting rhythm of our routine. I would wake up early to make breakfast while Jiro prepared for his work meetings, his always meticulous schedule. Hibiki would stumble into the kitchen with his messy hair and sleepy eyes, asking for a bowl of cereal or his favorite fruit. The scene was ordinary in the best kind of way. But the beauty of it all lay in the quiet moments—those stolen minutes when I’d catch Jiro’s eyes from across the room, and the weight of his gaze would remind me that I was exactly where I was meant to be. Work had its challenges, of course. Jiro was
The air was filled with a soft, serene energy as Haru stood at the altar, his heart racing as he held Hibiki's small hand in his. The gentle hum of the ceremony and the soft rustle of fabric from guests settled into the background as his eyes locked with Jiro’s, standing across from him. The moment felt surreal, like something out of a dream. A dream where he had found the man who would love him and their son forever. A dream where they could finally have the family they always deserved. Haru's throat tightened, and for a second, he thought he might not be able to say the vows he had written in his heart. But as Jiro smiled at him—his smile warm, gentle, and full of devotion—Haru's nerves melted away. This was real. They were real. And nothing could take that away from them. Jiro stepped forward first, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “Haru, when I first met you, I never imagined my life would change the way it did. You were just an omega trying to survive in a world that d
As the wedding day continued to unfold in a whirlwind of emotions, Jiro found himself in his room, preparing for the ceremony. He was adjusting his cufflinks, trying to calm the excited butterflies fluttering in his stomach, when there was a knock at the door. Before he could respond, the door opened, and in walked Kenji, Aoi, Mitsuki, and Daisuke, each of them carrying an air of quiet authority and genuine warmth. The four of them stepped inside, their eyes filled with purpose, though their expressions remained kind. Kenji, the ever-present big brother figure to Haru, was the first to speak. His tone was casual, but there was a depth to his words that made Jiro pause. “Jiro,” he began, “I just wanted to say, we’re happy for Haru. He’s finally found someone who truly cares for him, someone who will be there for him when it matters most.” Aoi nodded, her posture elegant, but her gaze sharp and unyielding. “Haru deserves someone who can carry the burden of his heart, someone who unde
As I stood there, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I heard a soft knock on the door. Before I could even turn around, the door opened, and in walked Kenji, Aoi, Mitsuki, and Daisuke, the newest member of the Key Omega Circle. They all looked so excited and full of energy, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit of warmth spread through me. Despite the overwhelming emotions swirling inside me, seeing them brought a sense of comfort and reassurance. Kenji, as usual, had that playful grin on his face, looking every bit the teasing older brother he was. “Well, well, look at you, Haru,” he said, his voice light. “You clean up nicely. You sure Jiro’s going to be able to let you out of his sight after this?” Aoi, ever the supportive and mischievous presence, chimed in, “Yeah, I’m sure he’s already planning on locking you away after the wedding, just to keep you all to himself.” She winked at me, making my cheeks flush. It was clear they were trying to make light of the nerves I was fee