The silence he left behind didn't last long.
It never did.
Because the moment he walked away, my thoughts got louder.
Clearer.
More dangerous.
You're not as unaffected as you pretend to be.
I sat down slowly, staring at nothing in particular. For once, I wasn't trying to argue with it. Wasn't trying to deny it.
That was the problem.
Because the more I stopped denying it…
The more real it became.
I didn't notice how much time had passed until the door opened again.
I looked up, expecting a servant.
It wasn't.
It was him.
The original omega.
He stepped inside without hesitation, closing the door behind him quietly. His gaze found mine immediately, like he had been expecting to see me exactly like this—sitting, thinking, caught in something I couldn't escape.
"You're alone," he said.
"So are you," I replied.
A faint smile touched his lips. "Not for long."
My chest tightened slightly at that.
He walked further into the room, slower this time, more measured than before. There was no sharpness in his movements now, no tension. Just calm.
Too calm.
"You talked to him," he said.
It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"And?"
I exhaled. "And nothing."
"That's not true."
I frowned. "You weren't there."
"I didn't need to be."
That annoyed me more than it should have.
"You really like assuming things," I muttered.
"I observe," he corrected.
Silence stretched briefly between us before he spoke again.
"You're changing."
The words were simple, but they landed heavily.
"I've heard that already."
"Not like this."
I looked at him. "Then what do you mean?"
He stopped a few steps away from me, his eyes studying my face carefully, like he was searching for something.
"Before, you were resisting," he said. "Now… you're hesitating."
My chest tightened.
"That's not the same thing."
"It is," he said quietly. "Hesitation is where it starts."
"Starts what?"
He didn't answer immediately.
And that made it worse.
"What?" I pressed.
He exhaled softly. "Attachment."
The word settled between us.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
I looked away. "You're wrong."
"I'm not."
"You don't know what I'm feeling."
"I know what it looks like."
I clenched my jaw. "And what does it look like?"
"It looks like someone who stopped trying to leave."
That hit too close.
I didn't respond.
Because I couldn't.
Because he was right.
Again.
"You said I should leave," I said after a moment.
"Yes."
"And now?"
He held my gaze.
"Now I think you won't."
My chest tightened.
"That's not your decision."
"No," he agreed. "But it is your pattern."
I frowned. "My pattern?"
"You stay," he said. "Even when you say you won't. Even when you know it's not good for you."
That… wasn't entirely wrong.
And I hated that.
"You're making it sound like I don't have control over my own choices."
He tilted his head slightly. "Do you?"
I didn't answer.
Because that question didn't have a simple answer anymore.
Before I could say anything else, the door opened again.
This time—
It was Kairo.
His presence filled the room instantly, his gaze moving from me to the original omega in a single, sharp sweep.
"You're here again," he said.
The original omega didn't look surprised. "I told you I wouldn't leave."
Kairo stepped further inside. "This isn't your room."
"It used to be."
Silence.
Tension returned immediately.
Sharp.
Familiar.
But different now.
Less explosive.
More controlled.
"I didn't come to argue," the original omega continued.
Kairo didn't respond.
Which meant he was listening.
"I came to make something clear," he said.
My chest tightened.
"Then say it," Kairo replied.
The original omega's gaze shifted.
To me.
Then back to Kairo.
"I'm not stepping aside."
The words were calm.
But final.
"I'm not giving up my place. I'm not giving up on you. And I'm not going to pretend this doesn't matter."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Kairo's expression didn't change.
But I felt it.
That shift.
That attention sharpening.
"I never asked you to step aside," Kairo said.
"No," he replied. "You didn't."
A pause.
"Which is why I'm saying it now."
Another step forward.
"I'm staying."
My heart started beating faster.
This wasn't just tension anymore.
This was a line being drawn.
Clear.
Unavoidable.
Kairo didn't move.
Didn't react immediately.
Then—
"Do what you want," he said.
The answer was calm.
Almost indifferent.
But something about it felt heavier than rejection.
The original omega smiled slightly.
"Good."
Then his gaze shifted again.
To me.
And this time—
It lingered.
"You should decide soon," he said quietly.
My chest tightened.
"I told you—"
"I know," he cut in gently. "You don't want to choose."
Silence.
"But not choosing," he continued, "is still a choice."
That hit harder than anything else.
Before I could respond, he turned.
And walked toward the door.
But just before he left—
He paused.
"You think he chose you," he said without turning.
My breath caught.
"But that's not the same as you choosing him."
Then he left.
The door closed.
And just like that—
It was quiet again.
I didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Because his words were still echoing.
He chose you… but you haven't chosen him.
Kairo stepped closer.
I could feel it without looking.
"You're thinking too much again," he said.
I let out a small breath. "You're starting to sound repetitive."
"And you're starting to be predictable."
That made me glance at him.
"Predictable how?"
His gaze locked onto mine.
"You stay."
My chest tightened.
"That's not an answer."
"It is."
"No, it's not," I said. "It's an observation."
"It's a pattern."
I exhaled slowly. "You both keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
Silence fell again.
But this time—
It felt clearer.
Less confusing.
More… direct.
"Then what do you want?" I asked.
The question came out quieter than I expected.
More honest.
Kairo didn't hesitate.
"You."
My breath caught.
That answer…
It was too simple.
Too direct.
Too real.
"That's not enough," I said.
"It is for me."
"That's not fair."
"I never said it was."
Of course he didn't.
I looked away, my chest tightening again.
Everything felt too close.
Too real.
Too unavoidable.
"You're not leaving," he said again.
Not forceful.
Not demanding.
Just certain.
And for the first time—
I didn't argue.
Because I wasn't sure I could anymore.