Today was the final day.
Haraboji had given Suho one week. Seven days to think, to bend, to choose. And today, the seventh had arrived, standing still and heavy, like a verdict waiting to be spoken.
He had made his decision.
Whether it was right or wrong, he no longer knew. But when it came to Hauen, the world simplified itself. Every path led back to her, and somehow, every choice felt justified.
He stood in front of the Kim mansion, its towering walls standing tall with inherited pride, a century-old legacy breathing through stone and silence. His forefathers had protected this name through wars, ambition, and sacrifice.
And today, he did not know how much of that legacy would survive him.
He inhaled deeply and stepped inside.
The living room looked the same. Polished. Calm. Untouched by the storms that had ripped through his life.
His mother sat gracefully on the sofa, tea in hand, newspaper folded neatly. Perfect. Composed. Elegant. Just like every other day.
"Oh, Suho…"
She smiled brightly the moment she saw him, placing her cup down and walking toward him.
"Oh, my adeul… finally, you're back." Her hands reached up, brushing through his hair with practiced affection. "How are you doing, my love? You look stressed."
She studied his face closely, concern blooming. "Are you eating properly these days?" she asked, fussing lightly. "Is Bora not cooking well for you?"
She brushed his hair affectionately.
He looked at her, his face calm, almost expressionless, but his chest tightened painfully. The affection came too suddenly, too gently, and he didn't know where to place it inside himself anymore.
"I'm fine, omma," he said slowly, shaping a small, polite smile.
She smiled back and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "I know what's going on inside you, Suho," she said with quiet certainty. "But it will fade in a few days. Don't worry. From now on, everything will be alright."
He met her eyes.
There was no warmth left in his. Just stillness. Distance. Something already decided.
"Come, sit," she said, guiding him toward the sofa. "I'll call your haraboji and your appa."
As she turned to leave, his voice stopped her.
"Call everyone, omma."
She glanced back, surprised only for a second, then smiled again and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Of course, my son."
When she walked away, Suho let out a slow breath and looked around the living room. The walls had witnessed generations of power, obedience, and sacrifice. Today, they would witness another.
One by one, they arrived.
Smiles bloomed as soon as they saw him sitting there.
"Suho."
His father entered first. "How are you, my son?" he asked warmly.
Suho stood up immediately. His father pulled him into a firm embrace, solid and familiar.
"I'm fine, appa," he murmured.
Soon after, Daehyun and Yuna appeared. Daehyun smiled openly and wrapped Suho in a brief hug, relief evident in his expression.
Yuna, however, stayed where she was. Silent. Still. Watching.
And Suho felt it then.
Soon, Haraboji appeared.
His presence alone shifted the air. Authoritative. Commanding. Unmoved by emotion. The kind of man whose silence carried more weight than most people's words.
Suho stood immediately and bowed deeply.
Haraboji acknowledged him with a brief nod. Nothing more. The displeasure was still there, lingering beneath his calm exterior, about him going to Jeju with Hauen, about the fact that Suho was still emotionally tied to her.
Suho didn't react. His face remained unreadable.
Everyone took their seats. Suho sat as well. His mother settled beside him, close enough that it felt deliberate, like an anchor, steadying him toward the decision they were certain he would make.
Because he always had.
For years, he had never gone against their will. Even when it hurt. Even when it cost him pieces of himself.
The room fell into silence.
Then Haraboji spoke.
"What did you decide?"
Suho lifted his gaze briefly to meet his grandfather's eyes, then lowered it again, drawing in a measured breath. Every pair of eyes in the room fixed on him, waiting.
"I've made the right decision, haraboji," he began.
A small smile touched his mother's lips. His father leaned forward slightly, curious. Haraboji's expression eased, satisfied.
"A solution for everything," Suho continued.
Haraboji smiled. "Good. I knew you would—"
"Before that," Suho interrupted smoothly, his voice calm but unyielding, "there's something else I want to talk about, haraboji."
The smile on his grandfather's face stilled.
Haraboji's brows lifted sharply. His mother's smile faltered, slipping away as unease crept into her eyes.
Suho slowly scanned the room, one face at a time. Then his gaze stopped.
Yuna.
"About the accident," he said quietly, "the one Hauen and I went through… the one where we lost our unborn baby."
His eyes never left her.
For the first time, Yuna's composure cracked. Panic flickered across her face, quick and uncontrollable.
Haraboji looked from Suho to Yuna, irritation hardening his voice. "What about that?"
Suho turned back to his grandfather. "It wasn't an accident," he said, each word deliberate. "It was planned. By someone from my own family."
The room stiffened.
Haraboji slammed his palm lightly on the armrest. "What nonsense are you speaking, Suho? Are you in your right mind? Why would your own family do something like that?"
Suho lifted his head fully then, meeting his grandfather's eyes not with obedience, but with something raw and wounded. Something that had been bleeding quietly for far too long.
His gaze slid back to Yuna.
"Why can't someone do that?" he asked calmly. "Isn't that right, Yuna imo?"
The way he looked at her felt like being stripped bare, as if he could see straight through her skin, past her lies, into the fear clawing at her chest.
Yuna's breath hitched. "W-what are you talking about, Suho?" she stammered. "A... Are you accusing me? I.. I didn't do anything like that. I would never do something so horrible to anyone. Not to my own family. You're like my son, I would never—"
"Enough, imo."
Suho stood up in one sharp movement, anger shimmering off him like heat.
The room flinched.
"Enough of your lies. I'm fed up with your hatred toward me," Suho growled, his fists clenched at his sides.
"Don't raise your—"
"Let me finish, haraboji."
The interruption landed like a strike. The old man froze, caught off guard, unused to being stopped mid-sentence.
"I have evidence, imo," Suho continued, his restraint finally cracking. "So don't lie anymore."
Silence pressed in from all sides.
"Just… why?" he asked, his voice roughening. "Why did you do this to me? You always disliked me. But this?" His chest rose sharply. "What did I ever do to you? That you took the life of my unborn baby… how could you be so heartless? That you killed it before it even had the chance to exist."
His voice broke.
Yuna sat rigid, eyes shimmering, breath uneven, as if the air itself had turned heavy.
"Why?" Suho asked again, softer this time, the question bleeding more than accusing.
Haraboji's words died before they could form. The sight of Suho like this shattered something inside him. Confusion, disbelief, and dread tangled together.
He turned slowly toward Yuna, his voice sharp, commanding. "What did you do, Yuna? Is it true?"
She said nothing.
"SPEAK!" he roared when no answer came.
Yuna flinched.
"I did it, appa."
Daehyun's voice broke the silence, trembling yet unmistakably clear.
Every head snapped toward him.
The room fell deathly quiet, eyes wide, breath held, as the truth landed, heavy, irreversible, and devastating.