Sitting at a table by the window, her dark hair falling around her pale face, her hands wrapped around a bowl of soup like she was trying to absorb warmth through her skin. She'd looked up when I walked in, and our eyes had met, and everything had shifted.
The bond had snapped into place with an intensity that had nearly driven me to my knees. Then I'd walked away.
I'd walked away because she'd asked me to, because she'd said she wasn't ready, because respecting her boundariesmattered more than the desperate need clawing at my chest. But every step I'd taken away from that restaurant had felt like tearing off a piece of my own skin.
She's so sick, my alpha growled, pacing restlessly in my mind.She could barely stand. We should have stayed. We should have carried her home. We should have?—
"She asked for time," I said out loud, my voice rough and broken in the empty street. "She asked, and I have to respect that."
But what if she collapses? What if she can't make it home? What if?—
I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen, my fingers hovering over her contact. I wanted to text her. Wanted to ask if she'd made it home safely, if she needed anything, if she'd let me bring her more food or medicine or just sit outside her door so she'd know someone was there.
That would be pushing. That would be exactly what she'd asked me not to do. So instead, I turned and started walking toward the dorm, the rose pink bond pulsing with every step, pulling me back toward the woman I'd just left behind.
The dorm was quiet when I pushed through the door twenty minutes later, the mid-morning lull between schedules leaving the common areas empty. I could hear music drifting from Jin-ho's studio — something slow and melancholy that matched the ache in my chest. The faint clatter of a game controller came from Tae-min's room, punctuated by occasional frustrated muttering.
I found Jae-won in the kitchen, exactly where I'd left him hours ago. He was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee gone cold in front of him, his phone in his hand, his thunderstorm scent heavy with the same anxious waiting we'd all been drowning in for days.
He looked up when I entered, and I watched his expression shift from distracted worry to sharp alertness as he took in my face.
"What happened?" Jae-won demanded, rising from his chair, his dark eyes scanning me like he was checking for injuries. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I ran into her," I said, and my voice came out strangled, caught somewhere between wonder and despair. "At the restaurant — the one I always go to. She was there. I had no idea she'd even left her apartment, and then I walked in and she was just... there. The bond—" I pressed my hand against my chest, where the rose pink connection was still pulsing with newborn intensity. "It triggered. The fourth bond."
Jae-won went very still.
"Where is she now?" His voice was carefully controlled, but I could hear the strain beneath the calm, could see the way his hands had clenched into fists at his sides.
"Still at the restaurant. Or walking home. I don't know." I dragged my hand through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. "She asked for more time. A few more days. I couldn't— I had to leave. She asked me to leave."
"And you left." It wasn't a question, but there was something in Jae-won's tone that made it sound like one — something that hovered between approval and concern.
"She could barely stand, hyung." The words burst out of me, all the fear I'd been holding back finally breaking free. "She was so weak. The soul sickness — it's worse than we thought. When the bond triggered, she nearly collapsed. I had to help her back into her chair, and even then she was shaking, and her skin was so hot I could feel the fever through her sweater, and I just— I left her there. I walked away because she asked me to, but what if she can't make it home? What if she falls? What if?—"
"Min-jun." Jae-won's hands landed on my shoulders, firm and grounding, his thunderstorm scent wrapping around me like an anchor. "Breathe. Tell me exactly what happened. From the beginning."
So I did.
I told him about going to the restaurant — my restaurant, the one I'd been visiting since I was a trainee because the ajumma who ran it reminded me of my grandmother. I told him about walking through the door and catching her scent, about the shock of seeing her there when I'd had no idea she'd even left her apartment. I told him about the bond triggering, about the way she'd gasped and knocked her spoon off the table, about the way her legs had started to give out before she'd even finished processing what was happening.
"She let me help her sit back down," I said, something like wonder creeping into my voice despite the fear. "She didn't run. She stayed, and she talked to me, and she said she believed me when I told her I hadn't planned it."
"That's good." Jae-won's grip on my shoulders tightened slightly. "That's progress, Min-jun. She's not running anymore."
"But she's so sick." My voice cracked on the last word, and I had to look away, blinking hard against the burn of tears I refused to let fall. "Four bonds now, hyung. Four incomplete bonds tearing her apart. She's barely eating, barely sleeping, barely surviving. How much longer can she last like this?"
Jae-won didn't answer right away. He released my shoulders and turned to stare out the kitchen window, his jaw tight, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. The silence stretched between us, heavy with all the things neither of us wanted to say.
"We need to tell the others," he said finally, his voice low and rough. "They need to know."
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and followed him out of the kitchen.
We found Hwan in the living room, sprawled across the couch with his phone in his hand, probably composing another text to send her. His golden eyes lit up when he saw us, but the light dimmed quickly as he took in our expressions.
"What's wrong?" Hwan asked, sitting up so fast he nearly dropped his phone, his sunshine-and-vanilla scent souring with sudden anxiety. "Did something happen? Is she okay?"
"Get Jin-ho and Tae-min," Jae-won said instead of answering, his pack alpha voice leaving no room for argument. "We need to talk. All of us."
