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
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
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