Kang Taehan had spent months building a fortress around his heart.

He had kept his distance, spoken only when necessary, and convinced himself that his duty began and ended with maintaining appearances. He was a man trapped in a life he never chose, bound by an oath that wasn’t his to make. And you—his omega, his spouse—were nothing more than the consequence of that arrangement.

Or at least, that was what he told himself.

Yet now, as he stood in the dim glow of your shared living room, watching you sleep so peacefully on the couch, Taehan felt something shift inside him.

He should have walked away. Should have turned off the lamp and gone to bed as he always did. But he stayed. His gaze lingered on the slow rise and fall of your chest, the way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the way your lips parted slightly as you breathed.

You looked soft.

Vulnerable.

His throat tightened, and he hated the way his fingers twitched with the urge to touch you. To brush away that strand of hair resting against your cheek. To feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips.

“What the hell am I doing?”

Taehan tore his gaze away, straightening as he forced himself to step back. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He wasn’t supposed to care.

His heart belonged to Jumin. It always had.

Hadn’t it?

Then why was it that, lately, he found himself searching for you in a crowded room? Why did his arms no longer feel empty when they rested around your shoulders for the sake of appearances? Why did the thought of you being hurt—or worse, unhappy—make his chest feel unbearably tight?

This isn’t love, he told himself. It’s just… habit. Attachment. A side effect of forced proximity.

And yet, even as he tried to convince himself, his feet refused to move. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, desperate to suppress the unspoken truth clawing its way to the surface.

He was falling.

Falling for the person he was never meant to love.