“Jun!”

Yejun smiled as his sister greeted him at the door, eagerly throwing her arms around his shoulders. Haemin’s embrace was as warm and solid as he remembered, her cheek brushing against his as she squeezed him tight. For a moment, the exhaustion of the trip, the tension he’d been carrying in his chest like a stone, all seemed to ease under her touch.

“You look terrible,” Haemin declared, pulling back just far enough to study his face with a critical eye. Her neatly shaped brows drew together in concern, and she smoothed her palm over his cheek. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been eating again.”

“I have,” Yejun lied, managing a weak laugh. “It was just a long flight. I’m fine.”

“You’re such a bad liar.” She flicked his forehead with the same scolding affection she’d had since he was a child. “Come inside. I brought you something.”

Haemin stepped back to let him in, and Yejun slipped off his shoes. Neither of their parents were home and he was grateful for the peace. His mother was still at the office, ensuring all of the ones responsible for the booking mishap had cleaned out their offices and Taehyun had taken Jinwoo out for some sort of trip. Neither would be back until evening, and Haemin seemed determined to fill the silence with her presence alone.

“I thought you’d like these,” she announced, pulling free a small box and flipping it open with a flourish. Inside were glossy canelés and a few delicate financiers, their tops caramelized to a dark sheen. The faint, sweet scent of rum and vanilla rose up, reminding Yejun of when he’d visited her in Paris during university.

“I can’t believe you carried these all the way from France.” He tried to sound amused rather than emotional, but his voice came out thin.

“I didn’t. I picked them up in Apgujeong on the way here. But if you want to pretend I flew twelve hours cradling them in my lap, I’ll let you.” Haemin smirked as she pushed the box into his hands. “Go ahead, I got them for you and Jinwoo.”

He took a financier and bit into it. The soft, buttery sweetness dissolved on his tongue, and Yejun realized he was hungrier than he’d admitted to himself. Haemin watched him carefully, her eyes narrowed in satisfaction as she leaned back against the counter.

“Better?”

“A little,” he admitted. “You didn’t have to come straight from the airport.”

“Don’t be stupid. I only see you a few times a year. And it’s uncle’s chumo-sik,” Haemin said, her tone gentler as she folded her arms. “You know how much it matters to Eomoni. Besides…” 

“Besides what?”

“I had a feeling you’d need someone to fuss over you.” She didn’t say more, but her gaze didn’t waver. Yejun ignored the look, taking another financier. “I heard Abeoji is still giving you a hard time.”

Yejun didn’t answer, his expression fixed on the small cake in his hand. Haemin didn’t push but her silence was more perceptive than any question. After a moment, she turned away to set her handbag on the kitchen table, giving him a small reprieve.

“Where’s Seoyeon?” he asked after a moment, hoping the change of subject would deflect her concern. Haemin’s expression softened the way it always did when she thought of her wife. She turned back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“She’s in Tokyo for work,” she said, voice shaded with fond exasperation. “There’s a couture show, and her mother decided she was the only one who could oversee the fittings. She’ll fly in tomorrow and meet up with us at the hall.”

Yejun nodded, grateful for the pause. Haemin’s presence was soothing, but he felt too brittle to be properly grateful. He ate the last bite of the financier, brushing the crumbs from his fingers.

“She asked me to tell you she misses you,” Haemin continued, her smile lingering. “You should come stay with us again. Paris suits you better than this place and it’s not like Eomoni is stepping down anytime soon.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You always say that,” she said, sighing as she reached for a glass. “And you never do.”

Yejun didn’t argue. He leaned against the opposite counter, studying the way the afternoon light poured in through the windows, turning the tiled floor warm and bright. For a moment, he let himself pretend that things were simple again, that he was just tired from work, that Jieun’s name didn’t taste like regret in his mouth.

Just then, his phone vibrated, and Yejun sighed heavily, pulling his phone from his pocket.

Jieun 🟢: I hope your flight wasn’t too tiring. I’m counting the hours until I’m back in the office.

Yejun stared at the message blankly. It was all he could do not to grimace. He could practically hear the practiced sweetness in her voice, the one she used when she wanted something. He set the phone down on the counter for a moment, drawing a slow breath before he turned it so Haemin wouldn’t see the screen.

“Work?” she asked, but her tone was softer now and held a hint of curiosity. Yejun shrugged, doing his best to seem unbothered. He knew if Haemin even suspected something off, she wouldn’t hesitate to get involved. 

“Just some stuff in the office.”

“Jee, can’t Jieun do anything right?”

“She’s out for rut leave.”

“See? I keep telling Eomoni she can’t keep making exceptions for unpaired alphas. I know she’s your future fiance, but…” Haemin continued as Yejun swiped to reply. He knew Haemin didn’t like how their mother made so many concessions for alphas on contract, but she only did it for other high class families. She never bothered to offer concessions to the other alphas. 

Yejun: Me too. I got you a souvenir. 

The reply was instant.

Jieun 🟢: Oh, I can’t wait to see it!

Yejun grinned. 

Yejun: Me neither.

Yejun was about to put his phone away when it vibrated again, this time with a different notification. It was Minjae. His chest went tight, and he could feel Haemin’s gaze flicking between him and the device.

“I should take this,” he said quickly, slipping the phone into his palm and pushing off the counter. “It’s about the new project.”

“More work?” Haemin lifted an eyebrow, her tone caught between annoyance and concern. “Jun, you just got off the plane.”

“I’ll be quick,” he promised, giving her the mildest smile he could manage before retreating down the hallway. He quickly climbed the stairs to his room and shut it quietly behind him, leaning back against the panel. The familiar surroundings pressed against the raw edges of his composure, but he forced himself to look down at the phone in his hand.

Minjae 🪵: I’m sorry. 

Minjae 🪵: [1 attachment]

His pulse thudded in his throat as he tapped it open, breath caught in his chest. Yejun slowly moved to his bed as the image loaded, a high-resolution photograph resolving on the screen.

Jieun.

She was clearly in a luxury booth, the frosted glass and plush couch a clear indicator. But that wasn’t what drew Yejun’s attention. She was standing flush to the glass, phone in her hand like she was bored, but given the height of dark shape on the other side, the way her skirt was hiked up,

It was clear what was happening. 

Yejun stared, feeling his stomach churn again. Jieun… she looked so bored. She was always enraptured when it was him, present and clearly enjoying it. So why break the rules of the booth, why risk everything for an act that clearly didn’t please her? Why act like it meant anything to her?

Yejun couldn’t understand. 

Minjae 🪵: The timestamp was this afternoon. 

Yejun : This isn’t enough. I need proof of more to call it cheating. She can use this as proof of her needing her omega sooner and rushing things.

Yejun felt his guilt rise but he quickly pushed it away. He couldn’t afford to feel bad for her. Not when she lied about him behind his back, not when she was using the booths against their intention. Not when she was clearly up to something. 

Minjae 🪵: I know, but these will help when we finally find something more damning. It proves a pattern.

Yejun : Alright.

Yejun set the phone down carefully on the edge of his nightstand, exhaling a shallow breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Blowjobs at the booths were frowned about, but not exactly illegal or a crime. After all, luxury booths provided the holes in the glass, knowing they'd be misused. What cut deeper, somehow, was the clarity with which she’d shown her disregard. 

She wasn’t doing it because she preferred omegas; that Yejun could have understood. Hated, been hurt by, but understood. He would have talked to her, found a way to break things off amicably so she could find an omega to marry. But no, her boredom, her lack of interest… it wasn’t preference. She was doing it because she could. She still preferred him, but it was empty of any form of respect.

Yejun squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the thought aside. He would find proof, anything that would allow him to end the engagement without exposing himself or costing him everything he spent his life achieving.

He would not marry Jieun.