"She emerges!" Hwan announced when he spotted me, abandoning his vegetables to cross the room and pull me into a hug, spinning me around once before setting me down. "The creative genius returns from her lair!"
"I was gone for like five hours." I protested, but I was laughing, slightly dizzy from the spin.
"Five hours too long." Hwan declared, pressing a kiss to my forehead, his lips warm against my skin. "I had no one to appreciate my excellent jokes."
"I was here." Tae-min pointed out, sounding deeply offended, his arms crossing over his chest.
"You don't count." Hwan waved a dismissive hand, his grin turning teasing. "You're required to laugh at my jokes by maknae law."
"That's not a real thing—" Tae-min protested, his voice rising with indignation.
"It's absolutely a real thing—" Hwan insisted, his voice rising to match. I let their bickering wash over me, settling onto a stool at the counter near Jae-won. He glanced up from his laptop, something soft in his dark eyes, his expression gentling when he looked at me.
"Good work day?" Jae-won asked it quietly, just for me, his voice low enough that the others couldn't hear over their ongoing debate.
"Yeah." I realized I was smiling, couldn't seem to stop, my whole face aching with it. "Really good, actually."
"I'm glad." Jae-won's hand found mine under the counter, fingers interlacing, the touch hidden and intimate, just for us. "I told you. We're not going to make you choose. You can have your career and us. Both. Always."
I squeezed his hand, my throat suddenly tight with emotion.
Both. Always. My mother had never gotten both. Her alpha had demanded everything and given nothing. Had taken hercareer, her identity, her self, piece by piece until there was nothing left. These five... they were different. They wanted me to work, to create, to be myself. They gave me space and checked in without smothering. They fed me and made me laugh and held my hand under the counter like teenagers.
Maybe I could have everything.
Maybe I wouldn't have to choose.
The thought was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
"Dinner's ready!" Min-jun announced, and the chaos shifted into organized motion — plates being filled, seats being claimed, food being passed around with practiced efficiency. I ended up sandwiched between Hwan and Tae-min, with Jin-ho across from me and Min-jun and Jae-won on either end. The conversation flowed easily, naturally, everyone talking over each other in that way that families do.
Somewhere in the middle of it all — laughing at Tae-min's terrible pun, stealing a piece of meat from Hwan's plate, catching Jae-won's eye across the table — I felt the bonds in my chest pulse with warmth.
Not the ache of incompleteness.
Just warmth.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
KEIRA
After dinner, Jin-ho caught my eye across the table.
"Do you want to work on the SIREN tracks tonight?" Jin-ho asked it casually, but I could see the hope flickering beneath his careful composure, his fingers tapping an absent rhythm against his thigh. "We could go back to the studio. I have some demos I'd like your input on."
"She just finished working." Hwan protested, his arm slung over the back of my chair, his warmth a constant presence at my side, his voice carrying a hint of protective concern. "Give her a break, hyung."
"It's not work if she enjoys it." Jin-ho countered, his dark eyes still on mine, patient and waiting, his expression carefully neutral but his posture leaning slightly forward with anticipation. "But only if you want to. No pressure."
The thing was — I did want to. The AURORA bridge and Somi revisions had been obligation, deadlines hanging over my head. But the SIREN project was different. That wascollaboration. Creation. The kind of work that filled me up instead of draining me.
"I'd like that." I said, and watched Jin-ho's expression soften with quiet satisfaction, the tension in his shoulders easing as relief flickered across his features.
"You're stealing her." Tae-min complained, slouching dramatically in his chair, his lower lip pushing out in an exaggerated pout that made him look like a sulking puppy. "We barely got any time with her today."
"You can come too." Jin-ho offered, already rising from his seat, collecting his plate with practiced efficiency, his movements smooth and unhurried. "The studio has a couch. You can game while we work."
"Really?" Tae-min perked up immediately, his pout transforming into an eager grin that made him look even younger than his twenty-three years, his whole body straightening with excitement. He was the pack's maknae, their youngest, but still eight months older than me — a fact he brought up whenever I tried to baby him. "You never let me hang out in the studio."
