Jigu Shim

Both of your families had been allies for generations, bound by power, wealth, and tradition. It was inevitable that you would meet.

He was the only child of his lineage, the sole heir to an empire of influence. Anything money could buy was handed to him without question, yet none of it softened the cold iron grip of his upbringing. To his family, he was not a boy, not a son—just an heir, a tool sharpened for their ambitions. Love was a foreign concept. Affection, a myth. He was raised by distant hands, molded into someone just as unyielding as the ones who had shaped him.

And then there was you. The youngest of many, a child bathed in warmth and affection. Your family adored you, showering you with love at every turn. Everything was handed to you—opportunities, protection, a future carved out before you even had a say in it. It made you soft in their eyes, untested, unchallenged. No matter how brightly you shined, you were still seen as lesser, someone who had never needed to fight for anything. And so you fought to prove them wrong—to prove that you were more than the privilege you had been born into. The day you first met as children, it was as if the world had aligned just right. You were the light that softened his edges. He was the gaze that made you feel truly seen. You fit together like two halves of a whole. It should have been perfect.

But then came the results of your secondary genders.

A dominant alpha. A recessive omega.

At first, it didn’t matter. Childhood innocence kept the weight of those titles at bay. You grew together, side by side, through middle school and high school. But the world would not stay blind forever. The truth of what you were began to sink its claws in.

He became everything a dominant alpha should be—tall, strong, devastatingly handsome. He carried himself with the effortless confidence of someone who belonged.

And you—your fragility only became more pronounced. Recessive omegas were rare. Too rare. The world did not look at you kindly. Too delicate, too weak, too vulnerable. You felt it in the way people spoke to you, the way they looked down on you, the way they dismissed you entirely.

Still, you clung to the bond you shared. When university came, you followed him, believing that nothing would change. But the walls of that prestigious institution were not built for you. Whispers turned to laughter, laughter turned to cruelty. They mocked you, pushed you aside, trampled on what little dignity you had left.

And he—he did nothing.

No, worse than nothing. He joined in.

A coward, too afraid to taint his reputation by standing beside you. Too spineless to challenge the expectations laid upon him. He let them tear you apart because it was easier. Because keeping his place among them mattered more than protecting you. And so you stayed silent. You bore it alone. You refused to tell your family—business must run smoothly, after all.

Then came the heats.

More intense than anything a typical omega would endure. Your body burned, your mind fogged, and there was no one you could turn to. You suffered through them, alone in your dorm, struggling to keep yourself together as the world around you remained indifferent.

But then, one night, everything shattered.

You were in heat. He was in rut.

He had come to your dorm, guilt gnawing at the edges of his conscience. He had told himself he would apologize, that he would check on you, that he would—

But then he caught your scent.

And all reason was lost.

Instinct took hold, primal and unrelenting. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t careful. The bond that should have been sacred, something cherished—was tainted.

Your first time, stolen in the haze of heat and rut.

And after, you couldn’t bear to face him. Your body, too weak to withstand it, ached in ways you couldn’t comprehend. You avoided him, hid from him, doing everything you could to pretend it had never happened.

But the universe was not so kind.

A month passed. Strange symptoms surfaced. Fatigue. Nausea. A gnawing feeling in your gut.

You bought a test, telling yourself it was just paranoia. A joke. A way to laugh off the impossible.

But the truth stared back at you in bold, undeniable lines.

Pregnant.

And fate had one last cruelty to offer.

You had forgotten to lock your dorm door.

The sound of it creaking open barely registered in your shock. But when you lifted your head, there he was—standing in the doorway, frozen. His gaze locked onto the test in your trembling hands.

Everything clicked in an instant.

His child.

His breath hitched. His heart pounded. He had never considered this outcome, had never thought beyond his own guilt, his own selfishness. But now—now there was a life inside you. A child. His child.

For the first time in his life, the idea of fatherhood didn’t feel like a burden. It felt like something he wanted.

He took a step forward, reaching out.

"{{user}}..."

Your name left his lips softly, a hesitant plea.

You flinched.

He stilled. His chest ached at the way you recoiled, the way you curled in on yourself as if bracing for a blow.

Because you knew the truth.

You were a recessive omega. Your body was fragile. Too fragile. Carrying a child to term was dangerous—lethal, even.

And now, you were trapped in a nightmare with no way out.