Episode3

The Park estate bloomed with soft golden lights, laughter weaving through the air like ribbons. The servants had spent the entire morning preparing for the evening—flowers imported from Jeju, candles set in floating glass bowls across the garden fountain, and a three-tiered cake dusted in blue and silver icing, just like Jimin always loved.

He was eighteen today.

And he wished he could disappear.

Jimin stood by the window of his room, dressed in a simple white hanbok embroidered with pale grey clouds. The fabric flowed gently around his frame, elegant and understated—perfectly Omega-like, as his mother had said.

“You’ll look beautiful,” she had whispered, pinning a small crystal clasp in his hair. “Your Alpha is coming tonight.”

Jimin didn’t answer. He had grown used to those words over the years.

"Your Alpha." "Your future mate." "Yoongi this. Yoongi that."

It had been like that since he was five. Ever since that birthday party at the Min estate, where elders teased and giggled and cooed at him like he was some doll in a storybook.

“Your husband Yoongi will come!” they used to laugh.

"Don't pout, Jimin-ah, he's just shy!"

Even then, he had hated it. But now?

Now it made his stomach turn.

---

He descended the stairs slowly, ignoring the excited murmurs from the guests gathering in the courtyard. Laughter filled the house. He recognized voices—cousins, family friends, familiar Alphas and Betas who always greeted him with a knowing smile.

He also knew whose arrival they were really waiting for.

Min Yoongi.

The Alpha who had been engaged to him since the day he was born.

They hadn’t spoken much over the years, just occasional visits during holidays or family dinners. Yoongi had grown up quiet and distant, never cruel—but never warm, either. He treated Jimin with polite smiles and respectful silence.

That only made it worse.

Because while everyone adored Yoongi—the mysterious, powerful young heir—Jimin felt like nothing more than a prop in the story of their perfect bond.

---

But lately, something had changed.

There was someone else.

A week ago, Jimin had been hurrying home from the flower market when he tripped on the uneven stone path just outside the main gate. His ankle had twisted painfully, and he’d winced as the world blurred with the sting of embarrassment.

Then, a voice.

“Are you alright?”

Jimin looked up into the gentle gaze of a tall Alpha with ash-brown hair and warm, brown eyes. Not from any elite family. Not someone his parents had mentioned. Just someone passing by. But he had offered his hand without hesitation.

And when Jimin took it, the Alpha had smiled.

There was no teasing. No mention of "husband Yoongi." Just kindness. Pure and simple.

It shouldn’t have meant anything.

But Jimin had clutched onto that memory every night since. The warmth of a touch that wasn’t expected. The feeling of being seen for himself.

---

“Jimin-ah! There you are!”

A voice snapped him out of his thoughts as his cousin Minji ran toward him, her cheeks flushed with excitement. She clutched his arm and leaned in close.

“He’s here. Yoongi-hyung just arrived.”

Jimin forced a smile.

“I see.”

“You should’ve seen it! All the girls swooned when he stepped out of the car. He looks like he just walked out of a painting. Even Appa said, ‘Now that’s an Alpha.’” Minji giggled, eyes gleaming. “He’s definitely going to steal the spotlight tonight.”

Jimin’s lips tightened. “Good for him.”

They walked out into the garden, where the moonlight danced on the tables, and soft classical music played in the background.

And just like that—everything shifted.

Heads turned. People whispered. Some gasped.

There he was.

Min Yoongi.

Dressed in black and silver, tall and composed, his dark hair pushed back slightly, revealing his sharp eyes and pale skin. He was walking beside his mother, nodding politely at the guests. When someone bowed, he returned it. When someone complimented his looks, he responded with a small, humble smile.

Jimin watched from the far end of the courtyard, standing half-hidden behind a vase of white orchids.

The buzz in the air grew louder.

“Yoongi-ssi has grown so well.”

“He’ll take over the Min estate soon.”

“And to think he’s already engaged to Jiminie. What a lucky Omega!”

Jimin’s fingers clenched around the stem of his wine glass.

No one was talking about him.

No one ever talked about him.

They only ever mentioned him in relation to Yoongi. Not as Jimin—the boy who loved sketching flowers or reading poetry under the old tree by the lake.

Just Jimin, the Omega promised to Yoongi.

---

He turned away.

Maybe he was being childish. Maybe it was stupid to wish that someone would come and say he looked handsome. Or that he had grown up well. Or that he mattered outside of a contract signed years before he even learned to speak.

But still, the ache stayed in his chest.

“Jimin-ah.”

A soft voice behind him.

He turned and froze.

Yoongi stood there, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. His gaze, dark and steady, flickered briefly over Jimin’s face before resting on his eyes.

“You’re avoiding the party,” Yoongi said calmly.

Jimin lifted his chin. “No. Just taking some air.”

There was silence. Wind moved through the trees, rustling the hanging lanterns.

“You look well,” Yoongi said at last.

“I know,” Jimin replied, a little too sharply.

Yoongi didn’t react.

He never did.

And that frustrated Jimin even more.

---

“Why are you even here?” Jimin muttered, stepping away.

Yoongi blinked slowly. “It’s your birthday.”

Jimin let out a dry laugh. “Right. Because you come to all of them.”

Yoongi didn’t deny it.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “You’ve changed.”

Jimin looked away. “So what if I have?”

“You used to follow me around.”

Jimin’s face flushed. “I was a kid.”

“And now?”

Jimin met his gaze. “Now I don’t want to.”

It wasn’t entirely true. Somewhere, buried deep beneath the frustration and tiredness and confusion—was still a thread of curiosity. A memory of the quiet Alpha boy who had once looked at him with something close to wonder.

But Jimin had learned long ago that Yoongi would never reach for him. Never speak what he felt. If he even felt anything at all.

And Jimin was done waiting.

---

The party moved on without them.

Guests danced. Speeches were made. Jimin’s parents glowed with pride as the candles were lit and everyone sang. He blew them out with a small smile, acting grateful as the cameras flashed, knowing full well that most eyes weren’t even on him.

They were on Yoongi.

Later, when the music slowed, Yoongi remained at a distance—surrounded by family elders and visiting aristocrats. He listened politely. Smiled when spoken to. Thanked everyone who praised him.

But his gaze kept drifting.

Across the room. Toward the balcony. Where Jimin stood, shoulders hunched, face tilted to the night sky.

He hadn’t looked at Yoongi once since their brief conversation.

Yoongi’s fingers curled by his side.

---

After the final toast, Jimin slipped away.

He needed air. Space. Anything.

He walked through the garden path, past the lily pond and up toward the gazebo behind the estate. It was quiet here. Only the sound of crickets, and the wind through the leaves.

He exhaled deeply, leaning against the railing.

Then—

“I heard you have a crush.”

Jimin’s heart jumped.

He turned around fast. “What?”

Yoongi stood a few feet away, his hands still tucked in his coat, gaze calm but watchful.

Jimin’s face heated. “Who told you that?”

Yoongi didn’t answer. He stepped closer. Slowly.

Jimin’s voice tightened. “It doesn’t matter. It’s none of your business.”

“Was it the Alpha who helped you near the market?”

Jimin stiffened.

Yoongi nodded slightly. “I thought so.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was heavy. Not hostile. Just full—of things unsaid, of feelings unspoken, of years left waiting.

Jimin looked down.

“He was kind,” he whispered. “He didn’t look at me like I was some... prize.”

Yoongi’s throat moved, barely.

“He looked at me like I mattered.”

Another long pause.

Then Yoongi’s voice came, softer this time. “You do.”

Jimin flinched.

But Yoongi didn’t move closer.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said at last. “For all the years I made you feel invisible.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, lips parting.

“I wasn’t ready,” Yoongi continued. “Not back then. Maybe not even now. But... I see you, Jimin. I always have.”

The words hung in the air, fragile and trembling.