The quiet hum of the countryside center wrapped the room in an almost meditative stillness. Sunlight streamed in through the thin curtains, casting soft patterns on the wooden floor. Outside, children's laughter floated faintly in the breeze, but inside, a weight lingered. Davey, standing near the modest counter, sighed—deeply this time. It wasn't just a breath of fatigue, but one laden with unspoken worry, thick with five years of unanswered questions.
He straightened up, his demeanor shifting as he turned toward Shan. There was hesitation in his eyes, a momentary flicker of fear that he might ruin the delicate peace they had built. But the words needed to be said.
[Interior – Village Community Center – Late Afternoon]
Davey sighs, his tone shifting, eyes narrowing slightly in concern.
Davey:
"Shan… for five years we've been running. Running from Kang Jin-ho. And for five years, I haven't asked. But… I need to know. Do you… do you know anything about him? Really know anything?"
Shan looks up from his seat, puzzled but calm.
Shan:
"No. I don't. All I know is his name—Kang Jin-ho. I heard it during… during his rut. He kept saying it, like a prayer. 'Rut has arrived, please help me.' That's how I learned his name. Then… I found out he was the leader of the Yakuza. And I ran. That's all I remember, Davey. Just fear. And running."
Davey's expression darkens as he steps closer, lowering his voice.
Davey:
"Shan… Kang Jin-ho isn't just a Yakuza leader. He's the leader. The biggest syndicate in China. And he's more than some gang boss—he's the eldest son of the Kang Group of Industries. They're massive, Shan. Untouchable."
He pauses, voice barely above a whisper.
Davey:
"He has siblings. A younger sister—Kang Hari. And a younger brother, Kang Xuan. People say Xuan is… fierce. Deadly, even. A man, but still powerful in their world."
Shan blinks, intrigued.
Shan:
"Kang Xuan… what about him?"
Davey:
"Well… rumors say he's too attached to Jin-ho. More than a brother should be. And Hari? She's in open conflict with Jin-ho. It's everywhere—in the news, in whispers… the power struggle is real."
Suddenly, the door slams open. Jain rushes in, crying uncontrollably. Tears streak his red face. Shan immediately jumps to his feet, alarmed.
Shan:
"Jain! Sweetheart, what's wrong?" (He kneels and opens his arms.) "Did someone hurt you? Did someone say something?"
Jain just cries harder, trembling. Davey hurries over, kneeling beside them.
Davey:
"Hey, hey, little warrior… it's Uncle Davey. What happened, baby boy?"
No answer. Just tears. Shan gathers Jain into his arms, holding him tightly, rocking gently.
Shan: (softly, stroking Jain's hair)
"It's okay… you can tell Mama. If you don't tell me, I can't help you. Mama will fix it. I promise."
A long pause. Then, through his sobs, Jain blurts out the question that slices through Shan like a knife.
Jain:
"Why… why doesn't my father exist, Mama?"
Shan freezes. The silence is deafening. His arms tighten around Jain, but his voice is gone. His heart pounds.
Davey: (quickly stepping in)
"Oh, Jain… your father does exist. He's just… he's on a really important mission right now."
Jain's crying slows, curiosity overtaking pain.
Jain:
"A mission…?"
Davey: (smiling softly)
"That's right. A secret one. Before he left, he told your Mama something very, very special."
Jain: (sniffling)
"What did he say?"
Davey: (leaning in with a secretive tone)
"He said, 'When Jain grows up, Jain will find me.' He asked your Mama to raise you strong and brave. Because one day, you'll bring him back. From the bad guys."
Jain's eyes widen, his small fists clenching in determination.
Jain:
"I will! I'll grow up fast and strong! Mama, I promise—I'll bring back my father!"
Shan swallows hard, managing a trembling smile.
Shan:
"You will, my brave boy… you will."
Jain nods with resolve, wipes his eyes, and runs outside, his sadness lifted. The door swings shut. Silence returns.
Shan slowly sits down, drained. He buries his face in his hands.
Shan: (softly, to Davey)
"Am I doing the right thing? Lying to him? Hiding who his father really is? Is it a sin?"
Davey: (placing a comforting hand on Shan's shoulder)
"What's done is done. Don't torture yourself with 'what ifs.' Life's a river, Shan. It flows on."
Shan: (still torn)
"But… are we going against the current?"
Davey:
"No. We're just trying to survive. And I'll keep flowing with you. Like I always have. Five years, Shan. I've been here. And I'm not going anywhere. Whether anyone else is with you or not—I will be."
Shan looks at Davey, eyes glistening.
Shan:
"But Davey… you're an Omega, too. You deserve a mate. An Alpha to love you. If you keep taking care of me and Jain… when will you find your own happiness?"
Davey chuckles softly, the warmth returning.
Davey:
"My Alpha? Shan, have you already forgotten about Ron?"
Shan: (blinking)
"Ron… right. Ron. Your ex. But… that ended a long time ago."
Davey: (gaze distant)
"It did. Because he joined Kang's Yakuza."
Shan: (shocked)
"What? Ron? Part of Kang Jin-ho's gang?"
Davey:
"Yeah. I didn't want that life. I went to his place one day and he wasn't there. But his 'associates' were. And they… weren't kind. That was the moment I knew. I couldn't stay. I broke it off."
He sighs, his voice steady but sad.
Davey:
"Maybe I don't need an Alpha, Shan. Maybe… I just want peace. And Jain? Jain gives me more joy than I thought I'd ever have. I'm happy being his uncle. You be the best mama. I'll be the best uncle. We'll do this together."
Shan leans into Davey's side, quiet for a moment.
Shan:
"Thank you. For everything. For staying.
Davey: (smiling)
"Always, Shan. Always."
A River Between Silence and Storm
The laughter had faded, slipping like smoke between their lips and into the quiet of the room. Outside, the late afternoon sun had begun to dim, casting long shadows across the wooden floorboards of their small village home. Inside, however, another kind of shadow lingered — heavier, silent, and steeped in memory.
Shan sat curled up on the edge of the sofa, a blanket over his knees, his gaze lingering on the pale mug of tea cooling in his hands. Davey sat across from him, the earlier humor still touching the corners of his lips, but the light had shifted in his eyes. The revelation had already been spoken — a piece of the past offered without fanfare. But the weight of it remained.
Shan finally broke the silence, his voice quiet but charged with unease. "Davey… Ron was in Kang's Yakuza group? You were that close to… all of this?"
Davey nodded slowly, the smile vanishing entirely now, replaced with something deeper — a resignation hard-won over time. "Close enough," he admitted, "close enough to know it wasn't a life I wanted. I was never fully in, Shan. But I was close enough to see the rot. Close enough to know I had to leave before it swallowed me whole."
He leaned forward slightly, as if to bridge the invisible gap now stretching between them. "That's why I left. Why I followed you. Why we're here. It wasn't just about escape. It was about finding peace. Building something new… something better."
Shan searched his face, as though trying to detect even the faintest lie. But there was none — just regret, and a sliver of pain. "So… you really think it's over? That Ron won't come looking? That Kang won't?"
Davey reached out, fingers wrapping gently around Shan's wrist. "I didn't leave any loose ends," he said with conviction. "Ron and I… we weren't part of anything that deep. We had a personal relationship, yes, but nothing that tied me to the Yakuza business. And when I left, I didn't slam any doors. I slipped away. Quietly."
Shan still looked unconvinced. "But people remember. Faces, names… What if he's changed? What if he's part of Kang's core group now?"
"That's a possibility," Davey admitted, his tone more cautious now. "But even then, he wouldn't know about you. Or about Jain. I never told him about our plans, Shan. He doesn't know what we are to each other. He doesn't know what we've built. We've been so careful." He squeezed Shan's hand. "Whatever danger might be out there — we'll face it. Like we always do."
A pause followed. Shan leaned back into the sofa, drawing the blanket tighter, as though it might insulate him from the past now clawing at their doorstep.
Then, in a voice almost too quiet to hear, he said, "And Jain…"
Davey looked up, instantly attentive. Shan swallowed hard.
"He's asking questions, Davey. Real ones. Today he asked me, 'Why doesn't my father exist?' And I—" his voice caught, "I didn't know what to say. I lied to him again. I keep lying. And it's breaking me."
Davey's gaze softened. He crossed the space between them and sat beside Shan, pulling him gently into a side embrace.
"You're not lying to hurt him, Shan," he murmured. "You're protecting him. From things he's too young to understand. From truths that could crush him before he even knows what they mean."
"But when is it too late to fix the lie?" Shan asked bitterly. "He's growing up. He's smart. Someday, he's going to want real answers. And what do I say then? 'Your father is a Yakuza boss and I marked him during a rut and ran away pregnant?' What kind of story is that to give a child?"
Davey was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "It's not a story he needs right now. Not yet. But one day, yes… you'll have to tell him. Maybe not all of it. Maybe not the ugliest parts. But something closer to the truth. When he's older. When it's safe. When it won't destroy the safe world you've built for him."
"But what if it's never safe, Davey?" Shan asked, his voice trembling. "What if Kang never lets go? What if he finds us?"
"Then we do what we always do," Davey said fiercely. "We protect each other. We protect Jain. We don't let that man take anything more from us."
Shan blinked back the sting in his eyes. He didn't want to cry — not again. He didn't want Jain to hear.
"You're right," he whispered. "We take it day by day. And we fight to keep what we have."
Davey nodded, pressing a soft kiss to Shan's temple. "We've already come this far. We're not giving up now."
The room was quiet again, but not the kind of silence that haunted. This one was full of breath, of warmth, of shared burden. Shan leaned his head on Davey's shoulder and closed his eyes. The river of life, as Davey often said, kept flowing. And they would keep flowing with it — no matter where it led.
But even as they wrapped themselves in that fragile sense of peace, the river beyond them had already begun to churn.
It had started a week ago, with a single vibration.
Davey's old phone — the one he'd hidden in the bottom of a locked drawer, the one he'd forgotten to dispose of — had buzzed to life like a ghost awakening.
The name on the screen: Ron.
Seven years. That's how long it had been. Since they fled the city, severed their ties, vanished into the countryside with new names and new routines. Ron had been a closed chapter. A memory in grayscale.
But now, he was reaching out.
The message was short, almost benign on the surface:
"How are you, Davey? I remember you, so I messaged you. It's not like you don't remember me. Where are you?"
Then, the real sting:
"If you remember me, don't reply to this message."
Davey hadn't replied. He hadn't dared. He knew what that kind of message meant. A signal. A test. A reminder that someone still had eyes. And perhaps worse — a warning that the past never forgets.
Ron was no longer just an old flame. He was part of Kang's web. And if Ron remembered him, then it was only a matter of time before others might, too.
Davey had deleted the message. But the ghost of it lingered.
He didn't tell Shan immediately. Instead, he reinforced their safety with soft lies, like wallpaper over a cracked wall.
"Kang doesn't know about Jain," he had said. "We're safe here."
But even he could taste the falsehood of his own words.
Now, with Shan curled against him and Jain asleep in the next room, Davey stared out the window at the fading sun, wondering how long before the silence broke completely.
Because silence, as they had learned, was never foolproof.
And somewhere beyond the fields and mountains, the river's current was shifting — perhaps already bringing Kang closer.
Whether they were ready or not.