When I surfaced again, someone was singing.
The voice was soft and low, barely above a whisper — a melody I didn't recognize, something gentle and haunting that seemed to wrap around me like silk. I tried to place the voice, tried to match it to a face, but my mind was too foggy to make the connection.
"...thought you were lost to me, but here you are..."
The words faded in and out, more feeling than sound, but they settled into my chest alongside the bonds and made something loosen that I hadn't even realized was tight.
Jin-ho, my omega supplied drowsily.He's singing to us.
Jin-ho. The quiet one. The one who wrote like someone who'd been lonely for a very long time. The one who'd recognized the same loneliness in my lyrics and told me I didn't have to be alone anymore. His letter had said he'd been working on a song for me. Was this it? Was he singing me something he'd written while I slept, too shy to share it when I was awake?
The thought made my chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with soul sickness. I wanted to open my eyes. Wanted to see his face, wanted to tell him I could hear him, wanted to thank him for the song. My body still wouldn't cooperate, and the melody was so soothing, and before I knew it I was drifting again.
The next time I surfaced, it was to the smell of food.
Rich and savory, cutting through the fog of sleep like a knife through silk. My stomach cramped painfully, reminding me how long it had been since I'd eaten properly, how much the soul sickness had taken from me.
"I think she's waking up." Tae-min's voice was bright with hope and barely contained excitement, and I heard him shift closer, his ocean-and-mint scent intensifying. "Look, she's moving."
"Don't crowd her." Jae-won's pack alpha tone was gentle but firm, a quiet command that the others instinctively obeyed. "Give her space. Let her come back on her own."
I tried to obey, tried to drag myself back to consciousness, but it was like swimming through honey. Every movement took effort. Every thought required concentration.
"Keira?" Hwan's voice was soft, sunshine and warmth even in the way he said my name. I felt him lean closer, his scent wrapping around me like a warm blanket. "Can you hear us? You don't have to open your eyes if you're not ready. Just... squeeze my hand if you can hear me?"
There was a hand in mine. I hadn't noticed it before, but now I could feel fingers wrapped around my own, warm and steady and real. I focused all my energy on that hand, on those fingers, and managed the smallest squeeze.
"She squeezed!" Hwan's voice cracked with emotion, and I heard movement around me — the others shifting closer, their scents intensifying. His fingers tightened around mine, trembling slightly. "She can hear us. She's in there."
"Of course she's in there." Min-jun's voice was rough with something that might have been tears or might have been relief. I heard him move, felt the displacement of air as he settled closer. "She just needs time. The soul sickness took a lot out of her."
"But she's getting better, right?" Tae-min asked, worry threading through his words, his hand coming to rest near my ankle like he needed some point of contact. "Being here is helping?"
"Look at her." Jae-won's voice was quiet, and I felt a hand brush against my cheek — large and warm, his thunderstorm scent washing over me. "The color's coming back to her face. Her breathing is steadier. The fever's almost gone. Yes, she's getting better."
Better, my omega agreed, contentment purring through our shared consciousness.We're getting better. Because they're here. Because pack is here.
I let that truth sink into me, let it settle alongside the bonds that were still humming in my chest. They were right. I was getting better. The soul sickness that had been consuming me was finally starting to recede, pushed back by the presence of alphas who had refused to give up on me.
Alphas who had written me letters and sent me food and respected my boundaries even when it must have been killing them. Alphas who had searched for me when I'd collapsed on a park bench, who had carried me home, who were now surrounding me with their scents and their warmth and their care. Alphas who wanted me. Not just because of biology, not just because of fate, but because they'd gotten to know me through letters and texts and the few fragmented conversations we'd managed.
They wantedme— the scared, broken, running-away me — and they'd waited patiently for me to be ready to want them back.
Do you want them back?my omega asked, the question gentle but probing.Really want them? Not just because of the bonds?
I thought about it. Really thought about it.
I thought about Hwan's letter, where he'd admitted his sunshine was a mask. About the vulnerability it must have taken to write that, to trust me with a secret he'd been carrying since childhood. I thought about the video he'd sent me of his cooking disaster, Min-jun yelling in the background, and how I'd laughed — actually laughed — for the first time in days.
I thought about Jin-ho's letter, where he'd told me I wrote like someone who'd been lonely for a very long time. About the lyrics he'd been sending me, fragments of something beautiful, and how we'd fallen into an easy exchange that felt more like collaboration than conversation. About the song he was writing for me, the one I'd just heard him singing while I slept.
I thought about Tae-min at the convenience store, earnest and open, telling me that fear lies and the only cure is experience. About the memes he'd been sending me — stupid, ridiculous things that had no business being as funny as they were — and how he'd made me smile even when I was terrified.
I thought about Min-jun's food deliveries, the careful notes with heating instructions, the red bean rice balls because he'd remembered from an interview years ago that I liked sweet things. About the way he noticed things, paid attention, showed his love through actions instead of words.
I thought about Jae-won's letter, where he'd admitted he was terrified of failing. About the vulnerability of a pack alpha confessing his fears to an omega who'd given him no reason to trust her. About the promise he'd made —I will never command you— and how he'd kept it even when I was collapsing in his arms.
Did I want them?
