Monday morning was still a long way off, but what I needed to say could wait until then.
I already knew she wouldn't come back Sunday night like she had before everything between us went to hell. But when Monday morning rolled around, I was waiting for her in the living room anyway.
"YN, a word please?"
She froze mid-step, her expression unreadable. A slow nod, then she stepped into the room. Without a word, she stopped in front of the fireplace, folded her arms, and waited. No impatience in her stance. No curiosity either. Just... distance.
"I'm not letting you out of your contract," I started, my voice low but firm. "We still have six and a half months left, and you're going to see it through. Otherwise, I'll be forced to ruin both you and Serenity."
Heat flared in her eyes instantly, her jaw tightening. I saw her nostrils flare with temper, but she still didn't speak.
"That's really what you want?" she asked at last, her tone so neutral it almost made the words feel like a challenge.
"It is," I lied easily. Because it wasn't.
What I really wanted was for her to want to stay—for her to want a life here with me and Layla. But she was doing what she did best: putting up walls, cutting her losses, running before I could make things right.
"Fine."
She gave a casual shrug and walked away. No raised voice. No digging in her heels. No fight.
My brows knitted together. It didn't make sense. YN was the type who would argue simply on principle. If she didn't believe in something, she'd go to war over it. Yet she didn't put up even a hint of resistance now.
I was immediately suspicious, but shook it off, reminding myself—ironically—that suspicion was exactly how I'd gotten us here in the first place.
She wasn't leaving.
And I counted that as a win.
A small win—but enough to buy me time. Time to figure out exactly how to make this right.

YN's POV
~One Month Later
I hated that I was still in Itaewon.
Still working for Jungkook.
Still keeping a distance the size of the Grand Canyon between us.
I had to. Because if he got too close, he might start putting the pieces together. So I stayed polite but distant — the kind of distant where you could excuse an early night with "exhaustion" and retreat to your room before he had a chance to corner you. Dinner was almost always a sandwich or a salad eaten in my room rather than risking a late-night run-in with my boss... and billionaire baby daddy.
At least I had Layla.
Watching her grow into herself was a gift I would never take for granted. She was bright, creative, so sweetly trusting with her love. Sometimes, thinking about her future — first book, first art show, high school graduation — made my heart pinch tight enough to hurt.
But this wasn't my life.
I was under contract for a few more months, and I'd see that through.
For Serenity's sake.
Jungkook might not respect me, but I wouldn't let him do anything to damage Serenity's business after all she'd done for me over the years. The moment my obligation was done, I'd be gone. No drama. No looking back.
"Earth to unnie." Layla's giggle pulled me back to the present.
I blinked and looked around at the carnival grounds, smiling. Today was about her — a celebration of her enrollment in school with a full day of rides, games, and enough sugar to last a month. We'd devoured funnel cakes, corn dogs, street food, and cotton candy. Our hands were sore from water gun horse races and ring toss.
"That was a close one," I grinned, watching her jump in victory.
"I won!" she squealed, bouncing like it was the first time all day.
"You did," I agreed warmly. "That means you get to pick the prize."
She tapped her chin, surveying the wall of oversized stuffed animals until her gaze zeroed in on a giant giraffe. A few trade-ins later, she was hidden behind the tower of yellow plush.
"You like it?" I asked, taking it from her.
"It's great!"
"Exactly what I would've picked," I lied with a laugh — knowing full well the adult in me wouldn't have picked the one that would be a nightmare to carry around for the rest of the day.
We stopped for chili cheese fries with extra bacon. And yeah — delicious every time, terrible idea twenty minutes later. A hot, sharp burn ripped through my chest until it felt like my ribs were on fire.
"Oh... shit." I pressed a fist to my sternum, trying to breathe through it.
"Unnie?" Layla's voice was tinged with concern.
"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just indigestion... probably from the chili."
But a wave of dizziness slid in right behind the heartburn, making my vision soften and blur. Even a glass of fresh milk from a nearby dairy booth did nothing to cut the burn or steady my head.
Then my knees went.
"Unnie!" Layla's scream was pure panic as my legs crumpled under me. In seconds, she was kneeling at my side, tiny hands shaking my arm, voice breaking as she started crying.
I tried to pat her hair, to reassure her, but my body felt heavy and wrong. "Okay," I murmured weakly, hoping she somehow understood that I'd be fine.
At least... I hoped I would.
When I woke again, I didn't need to open my eyes to know where I was.
The sterile smell, the muffled beeping of medical equipment, the low hum of fluorescent lights, and the soft current of hushed voices told me exactly where I'd landed.
The hospital.
My heart lurched. Layla.
That thought alone had me bolting upright — a mistake. A wall of nausea hit me so hard I had to drop back against the bed, breathing through it until the room stopped spinning.
"Layla?" My voice came out rough, urgent. "Layla?"
The name ripped out of me before I could stop it, my throat tight, heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
No answer.
My eyes scanned the pale, sterile room like I could will her to appear from behind the curtain or the doorway, hugging that ridiculous giraffe and telling me I scared her half to death.
But she wasn't there.
And my chest constricted until it hurt to breathe.
My mind went straight to the worst places — because that's what you do when you love someone so much that imagining life without them feels like suffocating.
Was she hurt when I fell? Did she try to get help and something happened to her in the crowd? What if she'd been lost in that sea of strangers, crying out my name while I lay helpless on the ground? What if she was scared and there was no one she knew, no one she trusted?
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
I wasn't her mother. I didn't need to be. Every laugh we'd shared, every time she'd slipped her hand into mine, every night I'd tucked her in — those moments had stitched themselves so tightly into me that she might as well have been mine. Blood or not. Paperwork or not.
She was my girl.
My responsibility.
My heart.
The thought of her wandering, afraid, or—God—hurt somewhere without me to protect her was enough to make my stomach roil worse than before.
I tried to pull myself up again, the room spinning as I did. Someone could come in here any minute, tell me it was all fine, that she was downstairs eating ice cream with a nurse or waiting with Jungkook. But until I saw her for myself, until I knew she was okay, not one part of me would believe it.
Because losing her — even the idea of it — wasn't just unthinkable.
It was impossible.
She might not be my child on paper. But in here? In here, she was mine.
And God help anyone who let something happen to her.