Chapter Text
The horizon was bleeding.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the apartment, the sun was beginning its slow, agonizing descent, stretching long, orange shadows across the floorboards. Law stood by the glass, his hand reflexively resting over the slight, nearly invisible curve of his stomach. He felt like an ember small, glowing, and waiting for the wind to finally blow him out.
“Let’s get married.”
The voice was steady, cutting through the silence. Law didn’t turn around. “Are you out of your mind?” he asked, his voice thick with disbelief.
“Isn’t it right to get married when we’re literally having a baby?” Han asked.
Law finally turned, shaking his head. The stress was a physical weight. How could someone offer a lifetime commitment while they were standing in the ruins of a relationship that hadn't even begun?
“Marriage is a sacred promise for lovers, Han,” Law explained, his voice trembling. “If you want to take responsibility for the baby, marriage is inappropriate for this matter.”
Han stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “Okay. If you want love, then I’ll be your lover.”
The words should have been beautiful, but to Law, they felt like a punch to the gut. They were too easy. Too planned. “You don’t understand it, do you?” Law asked in a broken whisper. “We don’t even love each other, Han. This baby accidentally just bloomed between us because of the rut.”
He wanted Han to admit it—to admit that they were just two people caught in a biological storm. But Han didn't flinch. He didn't back down.
“The beginning doesn't change the responsibility,” Han said, his voice dropping an octave, filled with a terrifyingly calm determination. He wasn't going to give up the marriage idea easily, but he saw the wall Law had built.
“Fine,” Han whispered, closing the distance until he was standing right in Lawrence’s space. “If you won't take the ring, you’ll still take me. I’m staying, Law. Not just for the baby, but for you. If you say we don't have love, then I’ll stay until I make you feel what it is.”
He said it like a promise, but to Lawrence, it sounded like a sentence.
As the sun finally slipped below the edge of the world, Law realized the truth. Han wasn't staying because he fell in love; he was staying because he was a man who refused to fail a task. And Law? He was just the latest task on Han’s list.
The ember hadn't just met the edge—it was about to be smothered.
☀️☁️
The conference room of Titan Productions was silent, save for the hum of the air conditioning and the rhythmic tapping of Law's pen against the edge of the mahogany table. It was the D-Day for the adaptation of The Frost That Never Melted.
Director Tim sat at the head of the table, his fingers steepled. "Writer Law, we’ve narrowed it down to three top-tier Actors. All of them are trending, all of them have the cold but burning look. But as the creator, the final word on the soul of the character belongs to you."
Law looked at the headshots spread across the table. His eyes bypassed the bigger names, the ones with global endorsements and millions of followers. His finger landed on a photo of a man with sharp, intelligent eyes and a subtle, grounding presence.
"Jeongwoo," Law said, his voice quiet but absolute.
Director Tim raised an eyebrow. "Jeongwoo? He’s talented, definitely. A rising star. But why him over the others?"
"Because he has a gaze that seems to know how to wait," Law replied, his eyes tracing the lines of the photo. "The character isn't just about heartbreak, he’s about the stillness after the storm. Jeongwoo looks like he can handle the cold without trying to fight it."
The room blurred for a second as the weight of the choice settled in his chest. Choosing the actor felt like finality—like he was finally handing over the keys to his most private grief.
Flashback: Three Years Ago
The studio was bathed in the dim, blue light of 2 AM. The air was thick with the woodscent and the metallic tang of old microphones. Han wasn't at the piano, he was standing by the window, his silhouette sharp against the skyline.
"You're stuck, Law," Han said, his voice a low vibration that seemed to rattle the pens on the desk.
Law didn't look up from his legal pad. "I'm not stuck. I'm developing the climax."
"No. You're looping," Han countered, turning around. He walked over, his heavy Alpha presence filling the gap between them. He snatched the pad from the desk. "You've written this same scene three times. The protagonist stands in the rain, watching the ghost of his first love, refusing to step under the awning. Why won't you let him move?"
"Because he doesn't want to forget" Law snapped, finally looking up. Han is a singer-songwriter which is globally famous. They've become friends after he transfered. Han knows everything even his past. The past he chose to be a loop of memory, beautifully yet full of bitterness.
Han sighed, his expression softening from frustration to a raw, painful kind of empathy. He sat on the edge of the desk, dangerously close to Law personal space.
"Law, listen to me," Han said, leaning in. "A river only stays clear because it flows. If you dam it up to keep the water from leaving, it eventually turns into a swamp. Everything inside it dies because nothing new can get in."
"I'm not a river, Han" Law whispered.
"You’re a writer with feelings that mirror the river," Han insisted. He reached out, his warm thumb brushing against the ink stains on Law’s hand. "The frost is beautiful, yeah. It’s poetic. But it’s a dead season. You have to let the frost melt, not because you want to lose the memory, but because you need the soil to grow something else. If you don't let go of the ghost at the bus stop, you’ll never see the person standing right in front of you holding a heater."
Law looked at Han—at the heat radiating from him, the steady gaze that promised a spring Law wasn't sure he was ready for.
"What if there's nothing left under the ice?" Law asked.
Han smiled, a slow, confident curve of his lips. "Then plant something new"
"Writer Law?"
Director Tim’s voice pulled him back to the bright reality of the boardroom.
"Yes," Law said, clearing his throat and pushing the memory back into the dark corner where it lived. "Jeongwoo is the right choice. He seems to know how to live and outlive the frost."
"Then it's settled," Director Tim announced, standing up to shake Law hand. "Jeongwoo will be our Frost that never melted.'"
As Law walked out of the building, the sun was high and the air was warm. He adjusted his collar, hiding the place where a mark used to be. He had followed Han’s advice—he had let the river flow. But as he looked at the bustling streets of Seoul, he realized that letting go of the past didn't mean the future was any less terrifying.
He had melted the frost, but now, he was standing in the flood of his past.
☀️☁️
The plastic bags cut into Law's palms, the weight of the groceries a grounding contrast to the lightheadedness that had been plaguing him all morning. The supermarket had been too loud, too bright, and smelled overwhelmingly of the seafood counter. A scent that had made his stomach do a slow, nauseating flip.
He stopped at the pedestrian crossing, waiting for the light to change. Across the street, towering over the intersection, a massive LED screen flickered to life.
The color was vibrant, a searing gold that seemed to pierce the grey afternoon. Then, the face appeared.
It was Han. Not the Han who sat on the floor of a studio in his hoodies, but Park Han, the Global Icon. He looked ethereal on the screen, his gaze sharp and commanding, announcing the dates for his upcoming World Tour.
Law stood frozen, the crowd bustling past him. He stared at the curve of Han’s jaw, the familiar spark in his eyes that now belonged to millions of fans.
We aren't friends anymore, Law reminded himself, the thought a cold mantra he repeated until it felt like truth. "We're a... strangers now who happen to share a history"
He remembered the heat of that Tokyo night, the way the "Safe Haven" had burned to the ground. In the aftermath, friendship felt like an insult. You couldn't go back to sharing coffee and metaphors with someone who had marked your soul and changed the chemistry of your blood. It was impossible.
The light turned green. Law adjusted his grip on the bags and looked away from the screen. He walked forward, leaving the golden glow of Han’s image behind him, disappearing into the shadows of the side streets.
The silence of his apartment was supposed to be a relief.
Law stood at his small stove, the steam from a pot of simple ginger soup rising to meet him. He thought the warmth would settle his nerves. He took a spoon, blowing on the liquid before bringing it to his lips.
The moment the taste touched his tongue, his world tilted.
It wasn't that it tasted bad, it was as if his body had suddenly identified the food as poison. A violent wave of nausea surged from his gut to his throat. He dropped the spoon—the clatter sound echoed against the tile and he scrambled toward the restroom.
He barely made it to the toilet before he was retching, his body racking with tremors.
It happened again ten minutes later. And then again, an hour after that. By noon, Law was slumped against the cool porcelain of the bathroom floor, his skin clammy and his strength completely drained. Every time he tried to stand, the world spun in a sickening orbit.
A sharp knock at the door startled him.
"Law? It’s Juwon. I have brought the food you requested"
Law tried to answer, but only a weak groan escaped his throat. Luckily, Juwon had a spare key for emergencies—a precaution they’d settled on during Law’s high-stress writing benders.
The door swung open, and moments later, Juwon was in the bathroom doorway, his face pale with alarm. "Law! Oh my god, you look pale. What happened? Is it food poisoning?"
"I don't... I can't stop," Law whispered, his voice raspy.
Juwon didn't waste time with more questions. He threw Law’s arm over his shoulder, hauling him up. "We’re going to the hospital. You’re severely dehydrated."
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and white noise. Lawrence lay on the thin mattress of the exam room, an IV drip finally putting some life back into his veins. Juwon paced the small space, his phone buzzing with work calls he kept ignoring.
The door opened, and a middle-aged doctor stepped in, looking over a chart with a neutral expression that slowly shifted into something more focused.
"Mr. Law?" the doctor started, pulling a chair closer. "We’ve run the blood panels to check for infection or gastric distress."
"Is it a virus?" Juwon asked, stepping forward. "He's been throwing up all morning."
The doctor looked from Juwon to Law, then back to the chart. "It’s not a virus. Your hormone levels—specifically the HCG—are significantly elevated. For a recessive Omega, the symptoms can be much more intense when the body finally awakens to a change."
Law felt a cold chill wash over him. "A change?"
The doctor set the chart down. "Congratulations, Mr. Law. You're six weeks pregnant. The nausea is quite common, though we'll need to monitor you closely given your recessive status."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Juwon’s jaw dropped, his eyes darting to Law’s flat stomach and then back to his face. "Pregnant? But... Law, you haven't... you said there was no one."
Law didn't hear him. His mind had raced back to the LED screen in the city—the gold lights, the "World Tour," the man who was currently being worshipped by millions.
He didn't expect a seed will take a root after that night. After a night of their rut, it was just a night of mistake he didn't expect that night will bring life, and that life was a ticking time bomb that could shatter the world of the man on the screen and him.
Law looked at his trembling hands, the doctor’s words ringing in his ears.
☀️☁️
The sterile smell of the hospital had followed them to the park, clinging to Law's clothes like a persistent ghost. He sat on a weathered wooden bench, the vibrant green of the spring leaves blurring into a chaotic smudge of color.
“Law,” Juwon said, his voice unusually soft, devoid of his usual editorial sharpness. "What are you going to do? The doctor said you might experience hormonal imbalances and that you'll need your alpha's pheromones to regulate them."
Law didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His throat felt like it was filled with dry sand. The shock hadn't worn off, it had simply settled into a cold, heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. He looked down at his hands. The hands that wrote about tragic endings and realized he didn't know how to write his own way out of this.
"I don't know..."
A sob broke through his chest, jagged and raw. He wasn't just a writer anymore, he was a vessel for a life that shouldn't exist, a secret that could ruin someone's image. He was afraid—terrified of the medical complications the doctor had whispered about, terrified of the loneliness, and terrified of the child growing inside him without an Alpha to anchor its soul.
“I’ve got you,” Juwon murmured, awkward but steady as he patted Law’s shoulder. Law wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, smearing the tears across his pale cheeks.
“I’ll be back. Let me get some water and some tissues,” Juwon said, standing up. “Don’t move. Relax and just breathe, Law. Don't overthink it and we'll try to figure it out okay?"
Law nodded.
"Okay just breathe and I'll just get water and tissue for you"
Law watched Juwon walk away. Breathe. That’s what the doctor said. Avoid stress. As a recessive Omega, his body was already at a disadvantage. Without his Alpha pheromones to regulate his system, his hormones were a storm. If he stayed in this state of panic, he risked the very life he was so conflicted about.
He placed a hand over his belly, his touch light, as if he were afraid he might break something. What should I do? he whispered internally. Is it fair to bring you into a world where you have to be hidden?
A sudden ball interrupted his thoughts. A bright red ball had rolled over the grass, coming to a stop right against his shoe.
Law blinked, looking up. A few yards away, a small boy stood frozen, looking back and forth between the ball and Law with wide, uncertain eyes. Law forced a small, shaky breath. He picked up the ball, his legs feeling like lead as he stood to walk toward the adult standing near the playground.
“I think your son dropped this,” Law said, his voice still thick from crying.
The man turned around, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. It wasn't a stranger. It was Jeongwoo—the actor and the husband of his first love.
Jeongwoo’s eyes widened in recognition, his expression shifting from parental focus to sheer shock.
But Law’s gaze was pulled downward. The little boy had skidded to a halt at Jeongwoo’s side, tugging on his jacket. Law felt his heart stop. He stared at the child’s face—the sharp brow, the intense, guarded depth in the eyes. It was a miniature, perfect replica of Steven.
In an instant, an image flashed in Law’s mind. Himself, years from now, standing in a park with a child who had Han’s mischievous smile and Han’s steady gaze. The universe wasn't just giving him an answer, it was showing him a mirror.
“Appa?” the little boy asked, his voice high and curious. “Who is the pretty mister? Is he your friend?”
Jeongwoo swallowed hard, his hand instinctively dropping to the boy’s shoulder. He looked at Law “He... he’s your Dad’s friend, Suke,” Jeongwoo said, his voice slightly strained.
The little boy stepped out from behind Jeongwoo’s leg, his energy practically radiating off him. He gave Law a huge, enthusiastic wave. “Hi, Dad’s friend! I’m Suke!”
Law felt like he had been struck by lightning. This boy was so bright, so alive—a testament to a love that had survived despite the odds, despite the industry, despite everything. Suke was the "bloom" that had successfully grown from Steven and Jeongwoo's complicated history.
“Suke, we...we have to go,” Jeongwoo said suddenly, his voice rising in pitch. A flash of panic crossed his face, perhaps he feared Law seeing too much, or perhaps he sensed the heavy, emotional atmosphere surrounding the writer. “We’re going to be late for... for the thing. The appointment. We have to go now.”
“But Appa, I didn't say goodbye properly!” Suke protested, stumbling as Jeongwoo began to usher him away with frantic haste.
Law wanted to reach out, to tell Jeongwoo he meant no harm, but his voice was trapped in his throat. He just stood there, clutching the memory of that small, bright face.
“Goodbye, Mr. Dad’s Friend!” Suke called out over his shoulder, his small hand still waving until they disappeared behind a row of hedges.
Law slowly raised his hand, a ghost of a wave returning the gesture. He realized then that if he chose to "threw the seed," this memory would haunt him forever. He wouldn't just be losing a potential life. He would be losing a Sky.
“Law! There you are,” Juwon said, jogging back with a bottle of water and a pack of tissues. “I thought you’d wandered off. Here, drink this.”
Law took the water, but he didn't drink. He looked at Juwon, his eyes finally clearing, the indecision vanishing to make room for a terrifying, beautiful resolve.
“I’m going to keep this,” Law said.
Juwon froze, his hand halfway through opening the tissues. “Law? Are you sure?—”
“I’m going to keep this little life,” Law interrupted, his voice gaining a strength it hadn't possessed all morning. He looked down at his lap, his hand resting firmly over his womb now. "This little seed has already taken root in the frost. I don’t know where this path leads, and I’m terrified of the dark but I’ll give this child the life and love I never gave myself."
☀️☁️
The invitation was made of thick, ivory cardstock, the gold-leaf lettering of Director Tim’s name catching the morning sun. It was a celebration of a decade of marriage—a decade of the kind of stability Lawrence had always written about but never felt he deserved.
He accepted it, not for the networking, but for the silence it promised afterward.
That evening, as the city lights began to hum, Lawrence scrolled through his feed. His thumb froze. The headline was a strobe light in the dark: "GLOBAL STAR HAN RETURNS: WORLD TOUR KICKS OFF IN SEOUL."
Law let his phone slip onto the duvet. The air in his apartment felt thinner. For a month, he had been a ghost in Han's life, hiding without finding any clarity of that night but destiny seems playing with him. The person he had crossed oceans to escape was now breathing the same air, walking the same streets, and looking at the same horizon.
He looked down at the slight, almost invisible curve of his stomach. Han can possibly find him. An Alpha with that much influence wouldn't let a friend run away from him and stay hidden for long. Law knew he was living on borrowed time, and he needed to find another route to escape.
The anniversary gala was a sea of silk, champagne, and the suffocating scent of expensive perfumes. The ballroom of the Grand Hyatt was a masterclass in opulence, anchored by massive pillars of white marble.
Standing near one of those pillars, Law felt like a piece of art that didn't belong in the gallery. He wore a tailored cream suit that draped softly over his frame, skillfully masking the tiny life growing inside him. Juwon stood by his side, playing the part of the protective shield, while a young production assistant gushed about the ending of The Frost That Never Melted.
"Your prose is just... it's like you've actually felt your heart shatter," the assistant said, starry-eyed.
"I have a good imagination," Law lied, his smile barely reaching his eyes.
He scanned the room and found Jeongwoo. The actor looked striking in charcoal grey, but he was alone. Lawrence’s heart did a strange, painful stutter. For years, he had prepared himself for this—the sight of Steven. He needed this. Now that he was going to be a father, there was no room left in his soul to linger on old ghosts. He needed the closure.
Then, the atmospheric pressure in the room shifted. The crowd’s chatter dipped into a collective hush as the heavy double doors opened.
It was Steven.
He still moved with that same glacial aura, a man carved from ice and high-fashion silhouettes. To the world, he was the untouchable Alpha, but Law knew the truth. He knew the warmth that hid beneath the frost. Law watched, his breath hitching, as Steven’s gaze immediately cut through the crowd to find Jeongwoo.
There was a lingering softness in Steven's eyes as they landed on his husband—a look of absolute sanctuary.
Law felt a sharp, bitter pang in his chest, followed by a strange, hollow peace. He was the one who had left. He was the one who had chosen the exit. Seeing Steven finally find his "home" in another person was the final period at the end of a very long, very painful sentence. A bitter, small smile touched Law's lips.
For a split second, Steven’s eyes swept toward the marble pillars. They landed on Lawrence. It was so brief—a flicker of a shadow—that Law couldn't tell if Steven had truly recognized him or just seen another face in the crowd.
"This is thrilling," Jian whispered suddenly beside Juwon.
Juwon nudged him hard in the ribs. "Shut up, Jian. Not the time."
As the night progressed into the party phase, the music swelled. Law, feeling the tension, began to grab drinks with a frequency that made Juwon worry.
"Hey, that's not good for you," Juwon murmured, reaching for Law's arm grabbing a glass of drink.
Law just rolled his eyes.
Lawrence sighed and stepped back. The little life inside him suddenly gave a sharp, demanding tug of hunger. He decided to excuse himself to find the buffet—he needed to nourish the "seed" that didn't care about social drama.
But as he turned, he saw Jeongwoo abruptly rush toward the restrooms, his hand over his mouth. A few paces behind, Steven stood frozen, his brow furrowed with a mix of concern and confusion as he watched his husband walk away.
It felt like a scene from one of his own novels—the Alpha left standing in the wake of a secret he didn't yet understand. Lawrence was about to get the food.
But his feet stopped.
The closure, he reminded himself. The healing. You can't move forward if you're always looking for the back door.
Lawrence turned. He ignored the food, ignored the music, and walked straight toward the man sitting alone in the table.
When Steven finally felt the weight of a gaze he used to know by heart, he turned. His eyes met Lawrence’s.
Below them, the lights of Seoul stretched out like a fallen galaxy, but the silence between the two men felt heavier than the city itself.
"Long time no see," Law started. His voice was steady, a feat of sheer willpower considering his heart was performing a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
Steven didn't immediately respond. His eyes flickered toward the restroom doors back inside, then back to Law. The guarded intensity in his gaze hadn't changed, but the focus of it had. "Yeah," Steven said, his tone clipped and uninterested.
"I heard you married Jeongwoo."
Steven’s jaw tensed, the muscle rippling under his skin. "I did."
Law glanced at the nearby windows. He could see the silhouettes of journalists and producers through the glass. "Is it okay if we talk away from the crowd? I don't want to cause any issues."
Steven followed his gaze, realizing the optics of the situation. Even though Steven was currently simmering with a quiet, cold fury over Jeongwoo’s recent secrets, he still instinctively moved to protect the sanctuary of his marriage.
Law stepped forward into the shadows of the terrace. Steven followed, the cool air hitting Law's face.
"I'm actually," Law said casually, leaning against the stone railing, "the writer of Jeongwoo’s new movie."
Steven remained silent, but his posture was a taut wire. He was listening.
"You might be wondering why I came back," Law continued, looking out at the skyline. "Or what the purpose of me talking to you is right now." He turned to look at Steven, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. "A production house offered to adapt my novel. At first, I accepted just for the work. But when I saw Jeongwoo in the casting room... I remembered you."
Steven’s eyes turned glacial. "I hope it’s not a coincidence."
Law’s smile didn’t waver, but the tension in his eyes flickered.
"Because if your intention was to cast my husband just to hurt him," Steven said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low velvet, "I assure you—it will lead to nothing."
Law let out a soft, breathy chuckle. It was a clear, unmistakable boundary. Steven wasn't protecting himself, he was standing as a shield for Jeongwoo. It was proof that Law had truly become a ghost in Steven's world—a memory that carried no weight.
"I didn't write that novel for revenge, Steven," Law said softly. "It was inspired by a man who was never loved by the person he adored. It was about me. About the feelings I kept... until I saw you tonight. Seeing you look at him... seeing that you finally found your sanctuary."
Law’s smile turned bitter, but it was honest. "I realized that for all these years, I was preserving a ghost, while you were building a life. I was waiting for a door to open that you had already replaced with a wall."
"You had a choice," Steven said, his voice cutting through Law's sentiment like a blade. "You could’ve stayed. You could’ve fought. But you chose to leave."
"We were young," Steven added. "And my love for you was pure. But it stayed in that moment. It didn't grow with us."
Steven glanced toward the restroom doors again, his patience thinning. He had seen the person he was looking for—Jeongwoo was looking at them.
"I have a husband and a son now, Law," Steven said, his finality absolute. "I also made a choice."
Without another word, Steven turned his back on the past and walked toward his husband. He didn't look back.
Law stood alone on the balcony, the cold wind whipping his cream suit. He felt a strange, light sensation in his chest. Steven was right—Law had been a coward. He had run because he was afraid of facing the pain of staying.
But as he watched Steven followed his husband. Law realized the closure he had come for. He can finally breath and heal from the broken past, he can finally let go his regrets and move forward.
He placed a hand over his stomach, feeling the tiny life within. "We're okay," he whispered to the dark. "We're going to move forward now."
Law turned away from the terrace. He had been young, and he had been a coward—but tonight, he was brave enough to be happy for a man who had forgotten him.
The ballroom, once a place of suffocating memories, had transformed into a sanctuary of appetite for Lawrence. He moved through the buffet line with a newfound sense of purpose, his plate becoming a colorful mountain of grilled proteins, savory appetizers, and an assortment of fresh fruits.
The crowd was distracted, their attention glued to the sudden exit of the famous couple Steven and Jeongwoo. While the media swarmed the golden couple near the entrance, Law focused on the task at hand. Nourishing the tiny, demanding presence in his womb.
"That's too much, Law," Juwon whispered, coming up behind him and staring at the sheer volume of food. "Are you planning to feed the entire production staff?"
"My little Sky is hungry," Law replied simply. He didn't look up as he carefully added a slice of mango to the pile, his free hand instinctively coming up to gently pat his still-flat belly.
Juwon’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Little Sky? Don't tell me you already chose a name?"
"No," Law said, his voice calm and melodic. "I decided to give a nickname first. It feels more... personal."
"Wait, what? You chose a nickname without even considering the actual name yet?" Juwon asked in disbelief, following Law toward their table.
"Don't worry, I already have a list of a thousand names," Law said with a small, playful smirk. "And I’ve already listed you as my little Sky’s Godfather. No backing out."
"You’re too advanced, Law! You need to pause," Juwon argued, though he was already helping Law set the heavy plate down on their table. "You're only a few weeks in" Juwon intentionally lowered his voice so that no one will hear them. Law's pregnancy remains secret and the only person who knows is Juwon.
"I’m just excited. And you know me, I always think ahead of time," Law said, sliding into his chair.
Jian, who had been waiting at the table, stared at the feast in front of them. "Did you two starve yourselves for months? Is there a famine I didn't hear about?"
"That's not for me," Juwon grumbled, pointing at Law. "I just helped him carry the payload."
Jian looked at Law’s slender frame, then at the plate. "You can eat all of this? Actually?"
"Yeah. It’s not that hard," Law said. He picked up his fork and began to eat with a genuine appetite, the heavy conversation with Steven already fading into the background. For the first time in a long time, the ice wasn't just melting—it was gone. He felt light. He felt ready to be a father.
Suddenly, the upbeat party music cut out. A hush fell over the ballroom as the emcee stepped back onto the stage, a wide, triumphant grin on his face. Law continued chewing, barely glancing up. He assumed it was just another toast or a video montage for Director Tim.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the emcee’s voice boomed through the speakers. "Tonight is about more than just a decade of love for our Director. It is also a homecoming. Please join us in welcoming back the pride of this family, the eldest son who has returned from his journey across the globe... the one and only, Park Han!"
The piece of fruit Law had been about to swallow turned to lead. His fork clattered against the fine china, the sound lost in the thunderous applause that erupted around him.
Park Han
The name echoed in his ears, vibrating in his very bones. Lawrence’s eyes traveled slowly, painfully, toward the stage. His heart, which he thought he had finally mastered, began to hammer against his ribs with a violent, panicked intensity.
Standing there, bathed in the golden glow of the spotlights, was Han.
He looked different—sharper, more mature, draped in the effortless aura of a man who owned the world. Law felt the air leave his lungs. He remembered a conversation from years ago, a passing comment Han had made about his father being a "Director." Law had assumed he meant a corporate executive or a board member—never a film director.
The world wasn't just playing with him, it was laughing at him.
Han took the microphone, his voice a rich, familiar baritone that sent a shiver of pure electricity down Law's spine. He gave a brief, charming message to his parents, his eyes scanning the sea of faces with a practiced ease.
"To celebrate this night," Han said, his voice softening into something more intimate, "I’m going to sing a song I wrote just three weeks ago. It’s a song about a search that finally ended."
He looked out into the crowd, his gaze cutting through the hundreds of people until it locked with terrifying, precision—directly onto Law’s face.
"I call it... Found You"
Law’s breath hitched. He felt completely numb, his body frozen in the chair as the realization crashed over him. Han wasn't looking at the audience. He was looking at him.
The song began, the first chords of the piano echoing Law’s own internal chaos. In the middle of the crowded ballroom, surrounded by the people who had just cast his movie, Law realized the truth.
He hadn't run far enough. The Alpha he had tried to be hide for, the father of the "little Sky" inside him, had found him.
"I finally found you," Han said after singing his song while looking at Law.
☀️☁️
The melody of sonh had long faded, but the terror it sparked followed Lawrence all the way back to his apartment.
The silence of his small living room was shattered by the aggressive zip of a suitcase. Law was moving like a man possessed, grabbing shirts from his closet and shoving them into the baggage without folding them. His hands were shaking so violently he dropped a pair of trousers twice.
Juwon stood by the doorway, holding a stack of script drafts, his face a mask of utter confusion and growing alarm.
"Law, stop! What the hell are you doing?" Juwon demanded, stepping forward to catch Law’s wrist before he could toss another bundle of clothes into the open suitcase. "You just got home from the gala. You didn't even eat half the food we brought to the table. Why are you packing your bags right now?"
Lawrence pulled his wrist away, his breathing shallow and panicked. He looked down at his flat stomach, his hand instinctively hovering over the little life growing inside him.
"I need to leave, Juwon. Do you know a place where I can hide? Anywhere. A secluded house in the province, a distant relative's place... I just need to get out of Seoul tonight."
"Hide?" Juwon repeated, his voice rising in disbelief. "From what? You just settled the movie adaptation. Why would you run away now?"
"The Alpha," Law whispered, a hot tear finally spilling over his eyelashes. He forced the words out, the truth burning his throat. "The Alpha I've been hiding from for weeks... he's in this country. He found me."
Juwon froze, the pieces finally clicking together in his mind. He remembered how Law had suddenly dropped his fork at the gala, how he had turned pale when the special guest was announced, and how that global idol had stared directly at their table while singing.
A sudden, horrifying realization made Juwon’s breath catch. He covered his mouth with both hands, his eyes widening in pure shock. "Law... don't tell me. The Alpha who marked you... the father of your little Sky... it’s..."
"It’s Han," Law confessed, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he leaned against his half-packed suitcase. "It’s Hani."
"Hani-hyung?!" Juwon gasped, his voice a muffled shriek behind his hands. "The global icon? The Alpha who marked and knotted you is Park Han"
Flashback
It felt like a lifetime ago, yet the memories rushed back with the force of a flood. Law had first met Han years ago, after his parents had pressured him to migrate and transfer schools. In a foreign environment, Han had been his anchor. They were drawn together by a shared passion—both pursuing degrees in writing.
Han was a prodigy of sound, a boy who lived and breathed melodies, while Law was the master of prose. They became inseparable. Law was the only one Han trusted to review his raw lyrics and early music demos. In return, Han was the first reader of every single chapter Law wrote, guiding him through the agonizing stretches of writer's block. They were perfectly, safely platonic.
Until Tokyo.
Law had traveled to Japan for an international book signing. He hadn't seen Han for a month—the longest they had ever been apart. On a stormy Tokyo night, a sudden knock had rattled Law's hotel room door. When he opened it, Han was standing there, shivering and completely soaking wet from the pouring rain.
Han looked desperate, his eyes carrying a heavy dependency that frightened Law. He broke down, confessing how much he missed him. At first, Law brushed it off as deep, platonic friendship, but over the next few days, Han shifted. The way he looked at Law became romantic, treating Law like something fragile and precious. Law tried to ignore the fluttering in his own chest, chalking it up to the atmosphere of the city.
Then, Han's manager contacted Law in secret. “Han refused to return here. He’s abandoning his schedules, wasting his potential. If he keeps this up, his career is over.”
Panicked for his friend's future, Law confronted Han. An intense argument erupted in the quiet hotel room. Law demanded he go back, screaming that he couldn't throw away everything he had worked so hard for.
But Han pleaded. “I can’t focus, Law. I can’t write a single lyric, I can’t sing, I can’t function when you aren't around. I miss you to the point of sickness”
In that raw, shouting match the truth finally exposed itself. Han had fallen in love with him. But Law didn't want to admit it to himself, he still believed everything was platonic. He convinced himself that Han had just grown dependent on him because they’d been friends for ten years, and that Han—who had spent his entire life sheltered by music and fame didn't even understand what love felt like. To Law, Han only knew the agonizing withdrawal of being away from his best friend.
The next day, after the dust of their shouting match had finally settled, they tried to mend the cracks the only way they knew how by pretending they were still just normal friends. They poured drinks, desperate to drown out the echoes of their argument and forget the heavy truths that had slipped between them. But the alcohol only lowered their guards. Suddenly, the fragile peace shattered. The built-up stress, the suffocating proximity, and their crashing hormones collided all at once, triggering a sudden, violent double rut that neither of them could stop.
The memory of that night was a blur of heat, cedarwood pheromones, and desperate cries. There was no gentleness, only a primal need. Han had claimed him completely, leaving a deep, burning mark on his neck and knotting him through the dark hours of the Tokyo storm.
When Law woke up the next morning, the room smelled of aftermath and regret. He looked at Han’s sleeping form, the golden sunlight catching his features, and realized a devastating truth. They could never go back to being friends. The boundary had been crossed.
Law had to leave for his Seoul book signing that afternoon anyway. Quietly, with trembling hands, he packed his bags and sat at the desk to write a final letter.
Hani
Please go back to your manager. Save your career. I need to leave so that you can finally go back to where you belong—don't waste your life. What happened last night was only a mistake, a byproduct of a rut that brought us to this situation.
Goodbye, Hani. Please, stop looking for me.
"I left him sleeping in that hotel room," Law whispered, his hands gripping the edges of his suitcase as he looked at the messy piles of clothes. "I thought if I disappeared, he would focus on his music again. I thought he would forget about what happened that night and save his career. I did it for him."
Juwon stepped closer, gently placing a hand on Law’s shoulder. He thought about the song Han had performed at the gala, the raw emotion in the idol’s voice, and the way his eyes had swept the room until they anchored onto Law.
"Law," Juwon said softly, his voice full of dread. "I don't think he has totally forgotten what happened between you two."
Law closed his eyes, a shuddering breath escaping him. He had thought his apartment was a safe haven, but with Han back in the country, the walls felt like they were closing in. The frost he had tried so hard to rebuild was completely gone, replaced by the terrifying, inevitable heat of the Alpha he could no longer outrun.
☀️☁️
The new apartment Juwon managed to find was far from the chaos of the city.
Juwon had meticulously planned the move, taking his time to ensure that Law would not be found by Han again.
Law didn’t want Han to know about their child, he refused to be the reason Han’s career fell apart. Given Han’s history of impulsiveness including his willingness to abandon his own career just to follow Law revealing the truth would never lead to peace.
Law's conscience would always haunt him if he became the reason someone gave up their lifelong dream just to be with him. As a career-driven person himself, Law understood the weight of that sacrifice. He knew that if Han found out about the pregnancy, the Alpha's reckless devotion would only worsen the situation.
From the very first afternoon Lawrence moved in, the constant, rhythmic hum of the city outside was punctuated by the frequent, violent sounds of his immediate neighbors. Sharp shouts, the heavy clattering of dropped items, and slammed doors regularly made Law’s own door frame rattle, forcing him to live in a state of quiet, hyper-vigilant anxiety.
Yet, amidst the chaos, a fragile kindness bloomed. On his first night, a hesitant knock had sounded at his door. When he opened it, he was met by the tired but warm smile of the woman from next door. She held a container of home-cooked food, introducing herself and welcoming him to the floor with a soft, unassuming voice.
"Hi, I’m Veda," the neighbor welcomed him. "Are you the new move-in for this floor? I made some adobo to welcome you to the apartment complex."
"Thank you," Law said, gratefully accepting the home-cooked meal.
"And I'm sorry for the noise," Veda explained apologetically. "We live so close to each other, it's like there are just thin walls between us, and you can hear a lot of noise from our apartment. I came to apologize in advance. Children can be very unpredictable sometimes."
"It’s okay," Law joked softly. "The kids' noise might be good practice for me."
Veda caught the underlying meaning of his joke and instinctively looked down at his stomach. "Oh my god, congratulations! I didn’t notice it at first, but you need to eat a lot of vitamins and rich foods. From now on, I’ll cook dishes that will help your pregnancy. Oh my, another blessing has been delivered to this building!"
As the weeks bled into a month, a quiet friendship formed between them. Veda was incredibly observant. After learning that Law was carrying a child all on his own, she began knocking on his door with small offerings like fresh apples, vitamin-rich fruits, and quiet words of encouragement. To Law, who was entirely isolated from his old life, her maternal presence and advice became a vital anchor.
Outside their quiet corridor, the world continued to hunt for him. A full month passed, and Park Han’s frustration had grown into a terrifying, suffocating desperation. He had exhausted every corporate connection and digital trace, leaving him with only one remaining lead: Juwon, the friend he had seen standing protectively beside Law at Director Tim's gala.
Han didn't ask questions, he demanded answers. He cornered Juwon in the private lounge of his family’s agency, slamming the heavy wooden door shut to lock them inside.
"I'm going to ask you one last time, Juwon," Han said, his voice dropping into a low, lethal register that made the air in the room freeze. "Where is Lawrence?"
Juwon swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he forced himself to look back at the Alpha. "I don't know, Hyung. I already told you, he left the city. He didn't tell me where he was going."
A bitter, chilling smile cut across Han's face. He reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a faded, ten-year-old medical chart stamped by a restricted clinic, slamming it onto the table between them.
"You and Jian have quite the history," Han said softly, his eyes locking onto Juwon like a predator. "He loves you because he thinks you’re his Omega. He tells everyone he fell for your natural scent. But we both know the real reason you smell so sweet to him, don't we, Juwon?"
Juwon’s breath completely hitched, his eyes widening in absolute horror as he recognized the header of the medical file. The color drained from his face until he looked like a ghost.
"Ten years ago, Jian nearly died from a toxic, volatile reaction to a mismatched mate bond," Han whispered, leaning over the table, his presence completely suffocating. "He has spent the last decade loathing Betas, blaming a phantom for the trauma that ruined his health. He has no idea that you were the Beta who marked him. He has no idea that his body only perceives you as a sweet Omega because of the lingering, broken fragments of that exact same toxic bond."
"Stop it..." Juwon choked out, a tear of pure agony slipping down his cheek. He gripped the edge of the sofa to keep his knees from buckling.
"Imagine what happens if I reveal your secret, Juwon," Han threatened, his voice dropping into a dangerous, unyielding growl. "He will realize the person he loves is the very person he has been hating for ten years."
Juwon staggered back, his chest heaving. He had hidden his secondary gender and their dark history for a decade, enduring the guilt of watching Jian curse the unknown Beta from his past, all just to keep Jian smiling by his side. If Jian found out the truth like this, the betrayal would kill him.
"Why are you doing this?" Juwon wept, covering his face as the tears spilled through his fingers. "Why do you have to ruin everyone else to get to Law?"
"Because he’s my mate, Juwon," Han answered firmly, his pheromones flaring with a terrifying, dominant authority that made the walls feel like they were closing in. "I want my mate back. Give me the address or I will call Jian right now and tell him everything."
Cornered, trembling violently, and completely crushed by the terrifying weight of his deepest sin, Juwon finally cracked. He couldn't watch Jian's eyes turn to pure hatred.
"He's... he's in a rundown complex on the forgotten edges of the city," Juwon whispered, left with no choice but to surrender the address.
I’m sorry, Law, Juwon thought, feeling sick with the realization that he had just betrayed his best friend. Out loud, he pleaded, "Hyung... I gave you what you wanted. Just leave Jian alone, and please, don’t hurt Law."
Han didn't say another word. He swept the medical file off the table, turned on his heel, and stormed out into the rain, leaving Juwon collapsed on the floor.
The afternoon the illusion shattered, Law was standing in his small kitchen. He had just tied a thick canvas apron securely around his waist, carefully adjusting the knots to flatten and hide the distinct three-month curve of his belly.
A heavy, definitive knock rattled his front door.
Law froze. His heart instantly dropped into his shoes. He walked over, his fingers trembling as he pulled the door open, only to find Park Han standing on the threshold.
The Alpha looked wild, his eyes bloodshot and dark with a terrifying, restless intensity. Law’s breath hitched, but he forced his features into a rigid, artificial mask of casual indifference. He stepped back, allowing Han into the narrow living space, determined to treat him like nothing more than a passing acquaintance.
"I finally found you, Law."
Law kept his hands flat against the thick canvas apron, desperately trying to anchor himself and conceal the three-month curve beneath it. "You shouldn't have come here, Han. You shouldn't have looked for me," Law said, his voice flat as he firmly smoothed the fabric down.
"Why would I stop looking for you when you carry my mark, Law? You’ve become my mate."
"What happened between us in Tokyo was three months ago," Law countered, his voice straining to remain detached. "It was a mistake brought on by a chemical accident. I wrote it in the letter—we were supposed to be friends, and you were supposed to stop looking for me. The night in Tokyo was just a rut."
Hearing those words, Han let out a sharp, breathless gasp, as if Law had driven a blade directly into his chest. He slowly straightened up, his gaze fixed on Law with a heartbreak so profound it looked physically paralyzing.
"A rut?" Han whispered in disbelief, trying to suppress the immense ache filling his entire system. "You think it was just a rut, Law? You think a biological accident is what made me hold you like you were the only thing keeping me alive? You think a chemical trap is the reason I buried my teeth into your neck to claim you?"
Han took a heavy step forward, his cedarwood pheromones flaring, thick and suffocatingly desperate in the small room.
"To you, it was a mistake to be erased because we’re friends. But to me... that night wasn't just a rut. It was ten years of buried, suffocating feelings finally breaking through the dark. I didn't hold you because my body told me to. I held you because I love—"
Before Han could finish his sentence, a piercing, high-pitched scream shattered the air.
It came from right through the thin wall—the sharp, agonizing cry of Veda, followed immediately by the violent, shattering clatter of ceramic plates smashing against concrete.
Law’s face drained of what little color it had left. He spun toward the wall, his protective instincts for his friend instantly overriding his own panic. "Oh god... no, no, not again," he whispered, his hands dropping from his apron.
"Law, stay back," Han warned, his voice instantly dropping into an authoritative, protective Alpha register as he noticed the raw terror on Law's face. "Don't get involved in a neighborhood dispute."
"You don't understand, Han! Something terrible is happening inside," Law cried out, already rushing toward the front door. "She’s my friend! We have to help her!"
The corridor outside was filled with the muffled, violent sounds of a struggle. Law threw himself against the neighbor's door, rattling the handle, but it was locked securely from the inside. Another heavy thud echoed from within, followed by a choked, desperate sob.
"Han, break it! Please!" Law yelled, his voice cracking with pure desperation.
Seeing the sheer panic in his Omega's eyes, Han didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, using the full weight of his broad shoulder to slam against the weathered wooden frame. With a loud, splintering crack, the lock gave way, and the door flew open.
The scene inside was horrific. The apartment was a disaster of shattered dishes and overturned chairs. Veda was on the floor, her lip split and bleeding heavily, trying to shield her head as her husband stood over her, his fist raised to strike her again.
"Stop it! Let her go!" Law shouted, lunging into the room despite Han's arm shooting out to catch him. Law’s inherently protective nature completely blinded him to his own vulnerability. He rushed toward the abusive husband, his hands extended in a plea. "Please, just calm down! We know you, we can help you both talk through this—"
"Law, get back here right now!" Han roared, his Alpha instincts screaming at the danger of his mate approaching an unstable, violent man.
Law didn't listen. He reached out to pull the weeping woman away, but the husband, fueled by rage and alcohol, noticed the intrusion. With a savage snarl, the man swung his arm out, delivering a heavy, brutal shove directly into Law’s chest.
The force of the push sent Law stumbling backward violently, his legs tangling in a stray piece of upturned furniture. He hit the floor hard, the sudden impact jarring through his entire frame.
Seeing Law fall, something primal and terrifying snapped inside Park Han.
An absolute, blinding rage took over the Alpha. Han lunged forward, his fist connecting with the husband’s jaw with a sickening, bone-crushing thud. The man flew backward, crashing into the kitchen counter and slumping down into the broken shards on the floor, completely knocked out.
Han turned instantly, his chest heaving as he rushed to Law's side. "Law!"
The rest of Han’s voice died in his throat.
Law was curled tightly on his side on the floor, his knees pulled up toward his chest, his hands desperately clutching his lower stomach beneath the crumpled apron. A white-hot, agonizing pain had just exploded deep within his abdomen—a sharp, tearing cramp that felt entirely different from the minor aches of the past weeks.
"No..." Law gasped, a tear of pure, paralyzing terror slipping down his pale cheek. He choked on his own breath, his fingers digging into his stomach. "No... it hurts. It hurts so much."
Veda, wiping the blood from her mouth, crawled over on her hands and knees, her eyes wide with a different kind of horror. She knew exactly what Law was carrying. "Oh god, Lawrence... the baby," she whispered, her voice trembling as she reached out to steady his shaking shoulders. "He needs to be in a hospital right now!"
The baby.
The words echoed in Han’s ears like thunder. He didn't fully understand, his brain short-circuiting at the phrase, but the sight of Law weeping in agony broke through his confusion. He slid his arms beneath Law’s trembling body, lifting him effortlessly against his chest. Law instantly buried his face into Han’s neck, crying out as another wave of pain ripped through his belly, his small hands clutching the Alpha’s jacket as if begging him to save their little Sky.
"Hold on, Law," Han whispered, his own voice cracking with a terrifying nervousness he had never felt in his entire life. He sprinted out of the apartment, down the concrete stairs, and into the dark city, holding his Omega as if his entire world depended on it.
The white linoleum of the emergency room hallway was a blur. Han paced back and forth outside the closed doors, his hands covered in a mix of his own sweat and the dust from the rundown apartment. The scent of cedarwood was flaring in sharp, jagged spikes of absolute panic, suffocating the nurses who walked past him.
When the ER doctor finally stepped out, he looked incredibly grave. He glanced at Han’s expensive, ruined clothing and then down at his medical tablet.
"Are you his mate?" the doctor asked, his voice stern.
"Yes," Han choked out, stepping forward, his throat completely dry. "Is my mate okay? What should I do? The neighbor said something about a baby—"
"Calm down, Mr. Park," the doctor said, intercepting his panic. He sighed, looking at Han with a heavy expression. "Your Omega has sustained a severe emotional and physical shock, which has triggered acute uterine spasms. He is currently being stabilized with a heavy progesterone drip to prevent a miscarriage."
The doctor tapped the screen. "Mr. Park, your Omega is exactly three months pregnant. Twelve weeks, to be exact."
Han staggered back a step, the words striking him with the force of a physical blow. Three months.Twelve weeks ago was Tokyo. The storm. The double rut. Law hadn't just run away because he was panicked about their friendship; he had been carrying Han's child for a quarter of a year, hiding in a dangerous, thin-walled apartment while Han performed under stadium lights.
"The baby..." Han’s voice was barely a whisper, a broken sound of pure reverence and terror. "Is our baby gonna survive?"
"For now, yes," the doctor said, his tone softening slightly at the sheer despair in the Alpha’s eyes. "But you need to understand the gravity of the situation. At three months, the pregnancy is still in a critical stage. The sudden physical impact from the fall, combined with the extreme emotional distress of the altercation, acted as an immediate trigger. When an Omega's nervous system goes into fight-or-flight, it cuts off the vital hormonal support the fetus needs, forcing the uterus to contract violently. If he had arrived any later, the spasms would have become irreversible."
The doctor looked directly into Han's eyes, his tone shifting into a firm, mandatory counsel.
"Moving forward, Lawrence must avoid stress of any kind—absolute psychological and physical tranquility is no longer a recommendation, it is a medical requirement. No high-stress environments, no emotional upheavals, and absolutely no running. His body is entirely depleted. Because he was marked and knotted during a double rut, his biology requires your specific Alpha pheromones to sustain this pregnancy. His system has been fighting a losing battle. He needs you, Mr. Park. Your pheromones must be his constant anchor, because the longer he goes without receiving your scent, the higher the tendency for a relapse and a subsequent miscarriage."
The doctor stepped aside, gesturing toward the door. "He is awake, but his condition remains delicate. Keep him calm. Keep your pheromones wrapped around him, and eliminate anything from his life that causes him anxiety."
Han closed his eyes, a heavy, devastating wave of guilt and fierce determination settling into his bones. He pushed past the doctor, opening the door to Room 3, ready to finally anchor his mate and their baby in a sanctuary where the world—and the stress of it—could never touch them again.
☀️☁️