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The house was quiet again. The kind of quiet that only came after a long day—toddler tears, sticky juice spills, twin squabbles over one stuffed bunny, and Felix almost falling asleep during tummy time.
Now, the nest was finally full of slow breathing and soft murmurs. Felix and the twins were curled together in the bedroom, their scents warm and sweet, sleep wrapped around them like a second blanket.
Chan, still running on “Alpha alert mode,” had stayed behind in the kitchen, sipping lukewarm tea and replaying the day in his head like a movie on loop.
He didn’t notice the small figure watching from the hallway until a quiet voice broke the silence.
“Appa?”
Chan turned. There stood Haneul, pajama pants twisted, fox plush trailing behind him, and eyes blinking up like he wasn’t quite sure if he was allowed to be awake.
Chan immediately crouched down, holding out his arms. “What are you doing up, little moon?”
Haneul shuffled over and buried his face in Chan’s neck. “Bad dream.”
Chan scooped him up easily, moving to sit at the kitchen table with Haneul in his lap. He rubbed slow circles on his back, just like he did when he was a baby. “Want to tell me what it was about?”
“I couldn’t find anyone,” Haneul mumbled. “No Eomma, no babies, no you.”
Chan tightened his grip slightly. “That sounds really scary.”
“I looked everywhere. I called for you. But nobody came.”
Chan kissed the top of his head. “But I’m here now. And that’ll never happen. We’d never leave you.”
Haneul nodded, still not fully soothed.
Chan set his tea aside and shifted so they were eye to eye. “Can I tell you a secret?”
Haneul blinked.
“Even Appas get scared sometimes.”
“You?”
“Me,” Chan confirmed. “When you were born, I was terrified I wouldn’t know how to be a good Appa. That I’d mess it up.”
“But you didn’t,” Haneul whispered.
Chan smiled softly. “You think so?”
Haneul nodded firmly. “You know how to carry two babies at once and make pancakes and fix my car when the wheel falls off.”
Chan laughed. “The toy car, I hope?”
Haneul gave him a sleepy, crooked grin.
Chan cupped the back of his son’s head, fingers brushing his hair. “Being an Alpha isn’t about never being scared. It’s about loving your pack so much that you keep going even when you’re scared.”
“…Even when I want to cry?”
“Especially then.”
Haneul laid his head against Chan’s chest, listening to the slow, steady beat. After a moment, he whispered, “Do you think I’ll be a good Alpha?”
Chan kissed his forehead, voice unwavering. “You already are. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to love your people. And you do that better than anyone I’ve ever met.”
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the ticking clock and Haneul’s breathing slowing again.
Then, Chan stood and carried him back to the nest. Felix stirred when he felt the dip in the mattress but didn’t open his eyes—he simply shifted and wrapped a sleepy arm over Haneul as the little Alpha tucked himself between his parents.
And just before his eyes fluttered closed, Haneul whispered one more thing against Chan’s chest:
“I’m not scared anymore.”
Chan smiled in the dark.
“Me neither, little moon.”