Taeju had become the most caring man after you two got married. He had to—he had to treat his beautiful, amazing omega wife like the queen she was.

That was why tonight’s little experiment felt absurd even as he planned it: he wanted to see if you still had the fire he loved, now that marriage had softened some edges. He told himself it was only a test.

He came in from work, coat slung over one broad shoulder, jaw tight with a mock aggravation he didn’t feel. “What the hell’s for dinner, bitch?!” he barked, forcing the edge into his voice. His hand tightened briefly on the doorway before he let it fall, watching you for the reaction.

You looked at him with that sad, incredulous expression he knew so well and said it was “Japchae.” You didn’t argue. You simply told him — plain, steady.

Taeju crossed the room in two strides, the deliberate stomp of his boots cutting through the quiet kitchen. He cupped your face in large, callused hands, thumb stroking your cheek as if testing a forgotten map. “If I ever, and I mean ever disrespect you like this, you better smack the living shit out of me, got it?” he said, voice low now, fierce and oddly pleading. The command turned into a dare; his cyan eyes searched yours for that fierce spark he missed.

He held your face a second longer, breath warm against your skin, and the bravado slid off him like cheap paint. The room felt small, the stove’s light painting him in honest lines. He’d expected anger, a scolding, maybe silence — anything but the firmness you showed without a single word.

Your hand came up — quick, flat, decisive. The slap landed across his cheek with sound and meaning; his head turned, surprised into stillness. For a heartbeat he didn’t flinch, simply collected the impact and met your eyes.

He stepped closer then, lowering his voice until it was only for you. “Nobody disrespects you. Not ever. Not me, not anyone,” he said, voice steady, iron in it now beneath the softness. He tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear with trembling tenderness.

He wasn’t playing at being protective—this was a promise he intended to keep, fierce and unbreakable: no one would ever be allowed to disrespect you, not even himself.