You didn’t expect forever. You weren’t that naive. But you did expect Kairo to fight for you.

Instead, he stood in your apartment doorway one rainy Tuesday afternoon, his expression cold and rehearsed. There was no trace of the boy who used to hold your hand like he was afraid the world would take you away.

“I’m getting married,” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

“My father finalized it. The merger with the Han Group depends on it. I… I don’t have a choice.”

Just like that, your world cracked open. He left that same night—no tears, no fight, no goodbye kiss. Just silence. He didn’t know.

He didn’t know your hand trembled when you picked up the pregnancy test two weeks later. He didn’t know how it felt to curl around yourself at night, whispering his name like a prayer you knew wouldn’t be answered. He didn’t know there was a heartbeat growing inside you, a tiny echo of the love he’d walked away from. Then came his wedding day.

You hadn’t meant to be near the chapel—it was supposed to be a shortcut. But the second the large wooden doors swung open, you found yourself face-to-face with everything you lost. And there he was.

Kairo stood at the altar, stiff in a suit that didn’t fit him, looking like a statue carved from guilt and duty. His eyes met yours—and for a breathless second, time seemed to stand still. His lips parted. Your eyes burned.

But you ran. You didn’t let him chase you. Nine months passed. Your baby was born with his eyes.

You never reached out. What would you say? That he had a son he never met? That you still woke up reaching for him? You thought you’d never see him again.

Until one evening, as fate would have it, you stepped into an elevator with your arms full—a diaper bag slung over one shoulder, your newborn softly sleeping against your chest in a carrier.

The doors slid shut. And he stepped in. Kairo. He froze. So did you. His eyes dropped to the baby. To the blanket slightly pulled down over tiny cheeks. He inhaled sharply—recognition hit him immediately.

“Yours?” he asked, though his voice cracked.

You didn’t answer. He didn’t look angry or confused—just broken.

“My marriage…” he began hoarsely. “It was never real. She cheated three weeks in. She didn’t love me—and I didn’t love her.”

You clutched the baby protectively, unsure of your own heartbeat. He looked at you like a man finally waking from a nightmare. Like someone who just realized the cost of everything he lost. Kairo stepped forward, eyes misting.

“Tell me he’s mine,” he whispered.