Ruofei's POV:
~March 13th - Hospital~
"Have you thought about names?"
Dr. Park's question pulls me from the half-doze I've fallen into, the twins sleeping peacefully in the bassinet beside my bed.
It's been two days since the emergency C-section, and I'm still exhausted in a way I've never experienced before. Every muscle aches, the incision site burns despite the pain medication, and I haven't slept more than an hour at a time.
But every time I look at my children, none of that matters.
"I have," I say quietly, careful not to wake them. "I want to give them names that mean something. That connect them to both sides of their heritage."
My mother, sitting in the chair beside my bed, leans forward with interest. "What are you thinking?"
I look at the boy first, sleeping with one tiny fist pressed against his cheek. His white hair is soft and wispy, catching the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window.
"Mingyu," I say. "Huang Mingyu. 明宇 - bright universe. Because he came into this world fighting, four days early, and survived despite everything."
"It's perfect," my mother breathes.
I turn to the girl, who's making small sounds in her sleep. Her black hair is already longer than her brother's, and even sleeping, she has Qingyue's elegant features.
"Liqin," I continue. "Huang Liqin. 丽琴 - beautiful musical instrument. Because even her crying sounds like music to me."
My father, who's been standing quietly by the window, comes closer. "Mingyu and Liqin. Strong names for strong children."
"They'll need to be strong," I murmur, watching them sleep. "With parents like us, they'll need all the strength they can get."
There's a moment of heavy silence, everyone thinking the same thing.
Qingyue doesn't know.
He doesn't know he has a son and daughter. Doesn't know their names, doesn't know what they look like, doesn't know they exist.
The guilt is a physical weight on my chest.
"You should tell him," my mother says gently, as if reading my thoughts. "Ruofei, sweetie, he deserves to know he's a father."
"I know." The words come out barely above a whisper. "I know he does. But I can't. Not yet. It's not safe."
"It might never be completely safe," my father points out. "That's the reality of the life we live."
"Then I'll wait until it's safe enough." I press my hand against my chest, where the bond aches with constant longing. "I have to."
No one argues, but I can see the concern in their eyes.
~March 15th - Going Home~
The twins' original due date arrives, and instead of going into labor, I'm being discharged from the hospital.
Dr. Park gives me strict instructions about the C-section recovery—no heavy lifting (which is impossible with twins, but I nod anyway), plenty of rest (also impossible), and to watch for signs of infection.
"And Ruofei?" She catches my arm as I'm about to leave. "The bond separation. It's going to get worse now that you've given birth. Your body is going to be screaming for your alpha to help with the babies. Please, if it becomes too much—"
"I'll manage," I interrupt gently. "I always do."
She doesn't look convinced, but she lets me go.
Wenli has brought his parents' car—the one with the infant car seats already installed. Getting Mingyu and Liqin into them is an ordeal that takes twenty minutes and leaves me sweating despite the cool March air.
"This is harder than fighting an entire rival gang," I mutter, finally getting Liqin's tiny arms through the straps.
Wenli laughs. "Welcome to parenthood."
The drive home is nerve-wracking. Every bump in the road makes me wince, certain the twins are uncomfortable. Every small sound from the back seat sends my heart racing.
"They're fine," Wenli assures me for the fifth time. "You can't protect them from every little thing, soulmate."
"Watch me," I reply, only half-joking.
When we arrive at Wenli's family home—my home now, I suppose—Auntie is waiting at the door with the widest smile I've ever seen.
"Let me see my grand-niece and grand-nephew!" she demands before we've even gotten out of the car.
The next hour is a blur of careful carrying, cooing relatives, and endless photos. Minji wants to hold them. Uncle wants to hold them. Even Chenyu, looking uncomfortable but determined, asks if he can hold Mingyu.
I supervise every interaction with hawk-like intensity, ready to snatch my children back at the first sign of distress.
Finally—finally—everyone disperses, giving me space.
I carry the twins upstairs to the nursery that's been prepared. Two cribs, a changing table, a rocking chair, shelves full of supplies that seemed excessive when purchased but now feel inadequate.
The afternoon sunlight paints everything golden, peaceful.
I settle into the rocking chair with both twins—Mingyu in my left arm, Liqin in my right—and just breathe.
"Welcome home," I whisper to them. "This is where we'll be for a while. It's safe here. You're safe."
Mingyu yawns. Liqin makes a small cooing sound.
And sitting there, in that quiet moment, I let myself imagine what this could have been like.
If Qingyue were here. If we were doing this together. If he could hold his son and daughter, could see their faces, could hear me tell him the meanings behind their names.
The bond flares with painful longing, and I have to close my eyes against the tears.
"Your father would love you so much," I tell the twins. "He doesn't know you exist, but if he did... he'd love you more than anything in the world."
I rock them gently, humming a lullaby my own mother used to sing.
One by one, they fall asleep.
And because I'm finally home, finally safe, finally able to let my guard down...
I fall asleep too.
~One week later - March 22nd~
Qingyue's POV:
The notebook in front of me has become my obsession.
Twenty pages, front and back, filled with scenarios, contingencies, plans within plans. Every possible outcome of Ruofei's eventual return, mapped out in meticulous detail.
Scenario A: He comes back angry, refusing to speak to me.
Response: Give him space, but make my presence known. Leave letters, messages, flowers. Show consistency without pressure.
Backup: If he threatens restraining order, respect it but continue attempts at reconciliation through legal channels.
Goal: Demonstrate that I respect his boundaries while making my intentions clear.
Scenario B: He comes back willing to talk, but not to reconcile.
Response: Listen without defending. Acknowledge every hurt, every fear, every valid reason he has for not trusting me.
Backup: Offer couple's counseling, mediation, anything that keeps communication open.
Goal: Rebuild foundation of trust before attempting romance.
Scenario C: He comes back ready to try again.
Response: Don't fuck it up.
Backup: SERIOUSLY DO NOT FUCK IT UP.
Goal: Everything.
I've been working on this for days, refining each scenario, practicing responses until they sound genuine rather than rehearsed.
Because that's the thing—I need them to be genuine. I need Ruofei to hear the sincerity in my apology, to understand that every word comes from the deepest part of my heart.
I pick up the separate document—my formal apology, written and rewritten countless times.
"Ruofei,
I'm sorry. These words feel inadequate for what I need to express, but they're all I have.
I'm sorry for marking you without ensuring you fully understood what was happening. I'm sorry for not being there when you woke up, for not explaining immediately how much I love you. I'm sorry for every moment of fear or confusion or pain I caused.
I thought the bond would make everything clear. I thought you'd wake up and just... know. How much I love you, how long I've loved you, how desperately I want to build a life with you.
But I was wrong. And my mistake cost us seven months we can never get back.
I'm not asking for forgiveness. I don't deserve it, not yet. Maybe not ever. But I'm asking for a chance to prove that I can be better. That I can be the alpha, the partner, the person you deserve.
I love you, Ruofei. I've loved you since we were children. I'll love you until my last breath. And I'll spend however long it takes proving that to you.
Yours, always,
Qingyue"
I read it again, looking for any hint of insincerity, any phrase that sounds manipulative rather than honest.
It's perfect. Or as perfect as I can make it.
"Still at it?"
I look up to find Qingxue standing in my office doorway. It's late—past midnight—but she's still dressed for work, probably just getting back from some business meeting.
"Can't sleep," I admit, setting down the paper. "Too much to think about."
She crosses to my desk, glancing at the notebook. "Twenty scenarios?"
"Twenty-three now. I added three more this afternoon."
"Qingyue..." She sits in the chair across from me, expression gentle. "You know you can't plan for every possibility, right? When he comes back—if he comes back—you're going to have to react in the moment."
"I know. But planning helps me feel less helpless." I run my hands through my hair, exhaustion pulling at me. "It's been seven months and nine days, Qingxue. Every day feels like a year. And when he finally does come back, I need to be ready. I need to not fuck this up."
"You won't." She reaches across the desk, taking my hand. "Because you love him. That's the one thing that doesn't need to be planned or practiced. Just... be honest. Be yourself. Show him the man you've become while waiting for him."
"What if the man I've become isn't what he wants?"
"Then you'll deal with it." She squeezes my hand. "But Qingyue, I saw him. He's not happy without you either. Whatever his reasons for staying away, it's not because he stopped loving you."
The words should comfort me. They don't.
Because loving me and wanting to be with me are two very different things.
After Qingxue leaves, I return to my notebook.
Scenario D: He comes back with someone else.
My hand hovers over the page, pen trembling.
I don't want to write this scenario. Don't want to imagine Ruofei with another alpha, building a life that doesn't include me.
But I force myself to consider it anyway.
Response: Accept it. If he's happy, if he's safe, if he's loved... that's what matters.
Backup: Die inside but show nothing but support.
Goal: His happiness, even if it destroys me.
I close the notebook with more force than necessary.
"Fuck," I mutter to the empty office.
The truth is, no amount of planning will prepare me for seeing him again. No script will make the apology perfect. No contingency will cover every possibility.
But I have to try.
Because the alternative—doing nothing, being unprepared, fucking this up again—is unacceptable.
I pull out a fresh sheet of paper and start a new list.
Things to do before Ruofei returns:
1. Eliminate remaining threats from the Zhang family - IN PROGRESS
2. Strengthen alliance with the Chen family - COMPLETE
3. Secure all properties against potential attacks - COMPLETE
4. Have "the talk" with parents about boundaries and support - PENDING
5. Clear schedule for at least a month to be available - PENDING
6. Buy new clothes that don't smell like stress and desperation - PENDING
7. Clean the shrine room (it's getting creepy even by my standards) - PENDING
8. Practice apology until it sounds genuine (currently at 47 attempts) - ONGOING
9. Prepare guest room in case he won't stay in mine - PENDING
10. Stock kitchen with all his favorite foods - PENDING
11. Figure out how to not immediately propose (save ring for later) - PRIORITY
12. BREATHE - ATTEMPTING
I stare at the list, then add one more item.
13. Remember that he owes me nothing. That I'm lucky if he even speaks to me. That any chance at all is more than I deserve.
The bond pulses in my chest, aching and insistent.
Come home, princess, I think, not for the first time today. I'm ready. I've done everything I can to make the world safe for us. Please come home.
But the bond stays quiet, no response except the dull ache of distance.
I look at the clock. 2:47 AM.
In a few hours, I'll need to be functional for meetings. Need to continue the work of securing our future, of proving to Ruofei—even though he can't see it—that I'm worthy of a second chance.
But for now, I allow myself this.
The planning, the hoping, the desperate preparation for a reunion that might never come.
I pick up my pen and start writing Scenario E.
Scenario E: He comes back, but he's changed. He's not the Ruofei I remember.
Response: Love him anyway. Love whoever he's become, whatever he's been through. Love all the ways he's grown and changed and survived.
Backup: There is no backup. There's only love.
Goal: Him. Always him.
I set down the pen and close my eyes.
One week since the twins' original due date. Seven months and nine days since he left.
However long it takes, I'll be ready.
I'll wait.
And when he comes home—when, not if, because I have to believe in when—I'll show him exactly how much he's loved.
Even if it takes the rest of my life to prove it.