I storm through the mansion doors, furious beyond words. The weight of the day drags behind me like a storm cloud, every step heavy with frustration. I kick off my shoes hard, the sound echoing in the vast, shadowy hallway.
And then—there they are.
Leo and Tiger, those little troublemakers, waiting patiently at the foot of the stairs, tails wagging like innocent angels but eyes sparkling with mischief.
I freeze for a second, heart softening despite myself.
Their tiny faces lift, as if they've been waiting for me. Waiting for the storm to pass.
I kneel down, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, even as anger still burns beneath my skin.
"You're waiting for me, huh?" I whisper, voice rough but gentle.
Leo purrs and nuzzles my hand. Tiger rests his head on my knee.
I grin despite the fury, scratching behind their ears.
"Don't let your father hear you're spoiling me," I warn them.
They just wag their tails harder.
For a moment, the heavy walls of this dark mansion don't feel so suffocating.
Because here, with these innocent little cubs waiting, maybe I can catch my breath.
[
The clock struck midnight.
The mansion door creaked open with a low echo, and Taehyung stepped in — loosened tie, dark coat draped over one arm, eyes heavy with fatigue and a hint of cold fury. The guards bowed silently, stepping away into shadows as their master walked in with the quiet grace of a storm held back.
His boots echoed against the marble floor until he paused.
There — in the dim light of the living room — he saw me.
Curled up on the couch. Fast asleep.
With his babies.
Leo's head rested against my stomach while Tiger lay draped across my legs, both snoring softly, their tiny chests rising and falling in perfect rhythm with mine.
His cold gaze faltered.
His steps softened.
He walked closer, the silence loud now.
He kneeled slowly in front of the couch, taking in the sight of my messy hair, my pouty lips slightly parted in sleep, my arms protectively curled around the two little cubs.
A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.
"So this is where my entire world sleeps when I'm not home…" he murmured under his breath.
He brushed a few strands of hair away from my face, his fingers pausing as if scared to wake me. But I stirred anyway, groggy and blinking up at the man whose presence had instantly shifted the air.
"You're late," I mumbled, voice raspy.
He tilted his head. "Are you keeping count now, sweetheart?"
"No... the cubs missed you," I replied with a lazy glare, trying to sound indifferent.
He chuckled. Low. Deep. Dangerous.
"And you didn't?"
His eyes bore into mine.
I refused to answer. Instead, I nuzzled deeper into the pillow.
He leaned closer.
"You're mine... even when you hate me, even when you're mad… even when you fall asleep cuddling my children like you've forgotten your silly revenge."
I scoffed. "I haven't."
"Liar."
He smirked, and without waiting for permission, he lifted me — carefully, gently — cradling me against his chest with the two sleepy cubs still curled on the blanket I had been wrapped in.
"Let's go to bed, troublemaker."
Even as he carried me, arms steady, heartbeat calm against my back—I kept my distance.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Mentally.
Because I made a promise to myself.
I won't fall.
Not this time. Not so easily.
I won't fall for a man just because he's handsome, or because he cooks for me, or because he lets me sleep with his kids like I belong here.
I won't fall just because he holds me like I'm something fragile.
I've done that before.
Falling for people who looked at everyone the same.
Who loved like it was temporary.
Who made me feel like a warm option in a cold world.
No.
Not again.
Not until I'm safe.
Not until I'm loved out loud—not just in shadows and quiet midnight touches.
Not until I'm cared for—not just when he's in the mood.
Not until I'm prioritized—not compared, not shared, not treated like a passing phase.
Not until the fear of being abandoned is no longer louder than the sound of his heartbeat.
I stared ahead as he walked toward the bedroom, his jawline sharp in the hallway light, his arms strong around me—but my heart stayed guarded.
Because no matter how warm his embrace is now,
If he belongs to everyone,
He will never truly belong to me.
And I deserve more than that.
His footsteps echoed softly through the quiet mansion as he carried me into the bedroom, the warmth of his chest against my back doing little to melt the ice inside me.
He laid me down gently on the bed, adjusting the blanket over me like I was something precious.
But I didn't move. I kept my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.
I felt the mattress dip beside me.
A soft sigh.
Then stillness.
His voice broke the silence—barely above a whisper.
"You didn't wait for me."
I stayed quiet.
"You fed them... slept on the couch with them again."
There was a trace of something in his tone. Was it guilt? Longing?
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
Because part of me wanted to cry.
Part of me wanted to scream at him.
Part of me just wanted to melt into his arms and forget everything.
But I stayed still.
Because I remembered every girl laughing with him today.
I remembered how easily he smiled at them, how he leaned in, how they touched his arm like they had a right to.
I remembered how I stood there…invisible.
And I hated how much it hurt.
"You're punishing me..." he murmured, shifting closer behind me, not touching—just close enough for his breath to tickle the back of my neck.
"But I deserve it, don't I?"
Still, I didn't respond.
I felt his fingers graze my wrist, soft as a ghost. Hesitant.
"I don't want you to feel like one of many,"
he whispered.
"I don't want you to feel like an option. I've never looked at anyone the way I look at you."
Liar, I screamed in my head.
But my heart stuttered.
Because part of me wanted to believe him.
He slowly pulled back, gave me space, didn't force closeness.
Just left one final whisper in the dark.
"Come back to me when you're ready. I'll wait."
The room fell into silence again.
But my mind... was anything but quiet.
His whisper lingers in the silence.
"Come back to me when you're ready. I'll wait."
But my heart didn't flinch.
I didn't turn around.
I didn't ache the way he wanted me to.
Go back to him?
I never go back to where my heart gave up.
Once it's shattered, I don't crawl back to pick up the pieces.
Because I know what it means to be left picking up shards alone.
I don't want anyone to hold me.
I don't need anyone to embrace me and whisper that everything will be okay.
I'm strong enough to hold myself.
To cry alone in silence.
To scream in my own pillow.
To fight with my own demons.
He doesn't know this side of me.
He doesn't know I was never the girl who cried in anyone's arms.
Never the girl who ran into someone's chest for comfort.
I grew up guarded.
Building my walls so high that even the sun had to knock.
Trust? It takes years.
Attachment? It terrifies me.
Because the moment I start relying on someone, they leave.
They always leave.
So no, I won't run back to him just because he whispered apologies in the dark.
I won't melt just because he says he'll wait.
Because I never asked him to leave in the first place.
He just did.
////