TAEHYUNG'S POV:

So, this was the reason behind her grumpy mood all day? Waking up late, getting jealous over nothing, then ignoring my texts all day like a grumpy baby—all that drama, only to end up curled up in my arms like a golden retriever...

This is what it all meant?
She was pregnant?

She'd been quite exhausted these days—too sleepy, too sleepless, too moody about everything. She thought I didn't notice, but I've been questioning the changes for days now, infact I had been telling her to visit the doctor, but she kept denying it.

I didn't think too much about it either. Yet, now that she shared this with me—my world titled upside down. Because, never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that it would all come to this moment—her in my arms, clutching a pregnancy kit in her hand as she cries out of pure innocence and fear.

She was going to be a mom.

And I—was going to be a dad. A dad.

She just handed me the entire world with that one quiet—chaotic—revelation and she didn't even know what it meant to me. I would even be the happiest man on the planet.

Before her, my life was a sketch without color, a vague outline of what could be. Kids? They were a distant dream, reserved for people with neat, sorted lives—people who weren't still figuring themselves out.

I wasn't even sure love would find me, let alone something this... whole. This complete.

Then she walked into my world, and everything shifted. With her, I started dreaming of a home filled with laughter, of tiny footsteps pattering down our hallway, of a life bigger than just us.

We'd talked about it once, casually, after Jimin and Fatima's baby was born. We'd laughed, agreed we weren't ready, that we needed time to grow into the idea.

It was barely 3 years since our wedding—fatherhood wasn't on my radar for this year. It was too soon, too unexpected.

But tonight, tangled in bed, tears streaking our faces as we clung to each other like lifelines, I realized something: I wasn't scared. Not for a single second. There was no hesitation, no doubt.

The moment her words sank in, I loved our baby. Fiercely, instinctively, without question.

Because it was ours.
And because if she was ready, I was too.

I don't know if I'll be the best father—no one ever knows, do they? But I know I'll pour everything into it. Every ounce of effort, every heartbeat of love, every day I have left.

Because deep down, maybe I've always wanted this. A little one to call ours. Someone to wake us at 3 a.m., to demand endless cuddles, to turn our lives upside down and still make every second worth it.

I took her on a long drive that night. She fell asleep halfway through, her head against the window, soft music playing. We got everything she'd been craving, and then a little extra—just in case her moods decided to go rogue at 2AM.

I wanted her to have everything.

When we got home, she curled into my arms, her body soft and heavy with trust, like mine was the only place she'd ever belong. She slept deeply, her breaths even, her face smooth in the moonlight filtering through our curtains.

I didn't sleep. Just couldn't.

Not out of worry, but awe. I lay there, her warmth pressed against me, and felt the weight of it all—the responsibility, the fragile joy, the quiet vow to be better, to be enough. It settled into my chest, heavy and beautiful, like a melody I'd always known but only now heard.

I still can't believe it. We're having a baby.

A little mine,
and a little hers.
A tiny heartbeat we created out of love.

And it was crazy how much I already treasured it.

The alarm rang sharp and sudden, slicing through the quiet like a sword. I flinched instinctively, brows furrowing at the jarring sound. A moment later, it hit me—her alarm.

I felt her shift gently in my arms, a sleepy rustle against my chest. She was waking too, her body warm and soft beneath the covers. Blinking against the faint glow of morning light seeping through the curtains, I reached over her to silence the noise.

She let out a groggy hum as I turned it off, her brows twitching slightly in protest. I glanced at the time—7:03 AM.

"Too early," I muttered under my breath and let out a small hiss, already missing the peace.

Sliding back down, I tucked us both under the blanket again, pressing her closer to my chest, like if I held her tight enough, time might pause.

"What time is it?" she mumbled, her voice a sleep—laced whisper.

I ran my hand gently through her hair, letting my fingers weave into the silk of it. "Time to cuddle" I said, voice low. "Just sleep," I added, kissing the top of her head with a softness that was instinctual now.

She let out a small sigh and nuzzled her face deeper into my chest, her arms looping lazily around my waist. "We need to go to the doctor today..."

"I know," I said, brushing my nose against her crown. "I already asked my manager to book the appointment. With our family gynaecologist."

She hummed again, a little pleased sound, and kissed my chest. It was so small, so delicate, but it stayed with me like a brand. I smiled, pulling her closer, her warmth curling into mine.

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YN'S POV:

"Wake up, daddy." I whispered against his ear, gently patting his arm—that warm, stupidly muscular arm I loved snuggling into.

He hummed sleepily, eyes still shut like he was bargaining for five more minutes with the universe.

I kissed his cheek, biting back a smile. "Hey..." I whispered again, pulling back just enough to catch the way one eye cracked open to watch me.

With a playful gasp, I scooted back on the bed, grabbing my vlogging camera and hitting record. He blinked, confusion flickering across his sleep-softened face, clearly wondering why his wife—who'd sobbed into his chest just hours ago—was now giggling and aiming a lens at him first thing in the morning.

I adjusted the camera, zooming in with a mischievous smile. "Baby Kim," I said into the mic, voice bright with barely-contained joy, "meet your dad, Kim Taehyung."

He sat up groggily, hair a mess, gaze slow to process the camera pointing at his just-woke-up face. The man looked like a grumpy lion who'd been pulled out of hibernation.

"Your dad," I told the camera, "is a workaholic, yes. But he's also a world-class sleepyhead."

Taehyung scoffed.

I grinned. "Say hi to your baby, sir!" I huffed dramatically.

He let out a soft laugh, still raspy with sleep, and reached his hand toward me. I handed him the camera briefly so I could climb onto his lap, straddling him comfortably.

His one arm instinctively wrapped around my waist as he buried his face into my chest with a sleepy groan.

I laughed quietly, feeling the tickle of his breath on my skin. One hand tangled in his hair, the other reached out to take the camera back, but he stole it again, turning the lens toward my face.

"So, what are we doing today, Mommy?" he asked, his voice low and teasing, eyes glinting with that boyish charm that still unraveled me.

I folded my arms, feigning seriousness. "From today onwards, we're documenting everything. Baby Kim's first journey—and you, Mr. Kim, are officially under camera surveillance."

He laughed, the sound bright and easy. "Baby Kim?"

I nodded aggressively.

Then he turned the camera to himself, leaning into the lens with a mock-serious expression. "Your mother," he said to the imaginary audience, "cried like a fountain last night over two pink lines. Nose leaking, eyes puffy—and guess who sacrificed their favorite pajama shirt as her personal tissue?"

"Taehyung!" I shrieked, mortified. I lunged at him but couldn't stop laughing, burying my face in his neck as the screen still recorded.

I hugged him tighter, my cheek pressed against his shoulder. "We're going for our first gynecologist visit today, baby," I whispered to the camera, voice softening with awe. "Your dad promised he'd be there for everything. No work, no distractions."

Taehyung kissed my temple, his lips lingering, warm and steady. "I already told the manager—no calls today. It's just you and me."

That line. Just you and me.

So simple, so effortless, yet it landed like a spark in my chest, igniting something soft and unshakable. It was the kind of promise he made without even realizing its weight, the kind that stitched me back together when I didn't even know I was fraying.

I pressed a quiet kiss to his collarbone, a small smile curving my lips as my hand drifted to the barely—there swell of my stomach. It was too early to feel anything, but the thought of our tiny bean—a heartbeat we'd created—made the world feel bigger, brighter, impossibly new.

----------

My fingers were laced so tightly with Taehyung's that my knuckles ached, but I couldn't let go. The clinic waiting room was sterile and cold, the faint hum of an air conditioner mingling with the soft rustle of magazines on a nearby table.

The giddy butterflies from this morning, the playful high of filming "Baby Kim" had evaporated the second we stepped through the glass doors.

Now, it was just me, a racing pulse, and a thousand spiraling thoughts threatening to swallow me whole.

"I'm so nervous," I groaned, burying my face in my palms, my foot tapping relentlessly on the tiled floor.

Taehyung scoffed softly, tugging me gently into his side. "It's going to be alright. It's just a sonography."

Just a sonography.
That did absolutely nothing to calm my racing heart.

I turned to him abruptly, gripping his hand like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. My fingers were ice against his warmth. "Taehyung..." My voice cracked, barely a whisper. "What if the doctor says there's no baby?"

His brows shot up, his eyes softening with a mix of surprise and amusement, as if to say, Where is this coming from? I didn't know, Taehyung. I didn't know. My mind was a runaway train, careening through every worst-case scenario.

"What if they're like, 'Oh, sometimes the tests can be false, Mrs. Kim. Go home. Bye-bye.'"

I rolled my eyes, trying to play it off with a dramatic tone, but my trembling lips betrayed me. "I swear, I'm going to burst into tears."

Without missing a beat, he chuckled and pulled me closer in a side hug, warm and grounding.

"Hey, love. First of all—there is a baby, okay? I know that, you know that, we feel it." He stroked my hair with those gentle fingers I adored. "And secondly... if there isn't?" He leaned down to my ear, voice low and teasing. "We'll just make one for you."

That earned a tiny laugh out of me—barely—but it was something.
Because sometimes this serious, brooding man turns into the world's stupidest clown... just to make me smile.

And it works. Every time.

I lay on the examination table, the thin paper gown crinkling under me, barely covering my lower half. One hand gripped the edge of the mattress, fingers digging into the cool vinyl, while the other clung to Taehyung's.

He sat beside me in a small chair, his presence steady as ever, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles on my shoulder. Each touch was a lifeline, tethering me to calm amidst the storm of my nerves.

The doctor had already run tests, and the results erased every fear I'd carried from the waiting room. No "sorry, false alarm" nightmare. This was real. Undeniably, breathtakingly real.

Three weeks pregnant.

Hearing it out loud was like being hit with a soft punch of reality. I mean, I knew there was something growing inside me—my body had been whispering it for days—but suddenly having it confirmed? It was terrifying and beautiful all at once.

The doctor squirted cold gel onto my stomach, and I flinched, the icy shock jolting my skin. My eyes locked onto the monitor, unblinking, as she glided the ultrasound probe over my belly, her movements precise yet gentle. The screen was a blur of grey and white, a static sea searching for something sacred.

"Are we ready?" she said softly, with a smile.

The screen flickered, shapes shifting, searching—and then...

"There."

A pause.
A tiny flicker.

My breath caught, lodged in my throat.

Our baby.

"Oh my God..." I whispered, my voice trembling as tears spilled hot and fast down my cheeks. "Is that...?"

"Yes," the doctor said, her smile warm as sunlight. "That's your baby. The heartbeat usually shows around 6 weeks, but right now it's perfectly growing."

I nodded. And then, turned to Taehyung, desperate to see his reaction.

He was silent. Utterly still.

For a second, I thought maybe he hadn't processed it yet. But then I saw his face—his eyes, glassy with unshed tears, locked onto the screen like it was the most sacred thing he'd ever seen. He wasn't blinking. Just... watching. In awe.

He looked utterly undone.

Then, quietly, he looked down at me. A single tear slipped down his cheek as he brought my hand to his lips and kissed it—soft, reverent.

"Thank you," he whispered, voice thick. "I think I just fell in love with you all over again."

And then he kept crying. And crying. Like a lot. And lot more. So much that he even cried in the car too and I had to take the wheel in my hands. His eyes never left the sonography pictures the doctor gave us, every time I thought he was done, he only cried more.

We weren't even out of the hospital parking lot when I glanced at him and saw him pressing the picture to his chest like a prayer.

"Taehyung," I whispered, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching for his. "Baby, are you okay?"

He nodded, far too quickly to be convincing. His nose was red, lashes damp. He squeezed my fingers like he couldn't get enough of holding something—anything—real.

"I just..." he choked, voice cracking. "I didn't think I'd be this happy."

My chest hurt in the best way.

I gave his hand a small squeeze back. "You cried more than I did."

He sniffled. "I know. I'll cry again if you don't stop talking."

We reached at red light and I turned to him, and without thinking, leaned in to kiss the corner of his eye.

"You're going to be a great dad" I whispered.

He gave me a watery smile, and finally tore his gaze away from the sonogram.

"I already love it so much it's stupid." he whispered back.

_____________________

"So, hey, baby!" I said to the camera, my voice bright with a mix of teasing and awe. "It's Mom!" I waved, a grin tugging at my lips, then swung the lens toward Taehyung, who was pretending to be engrossed in Tom & Jerry playing on the tv. "And this is your dad, barely holding it together."

Taehyung shot me a mock glare, his puffy eyes narrowing. "Stop it," he mumbled, his voice thick with embarrassment and lingering emotion.

I laughed, undeterred. "He cried so much, he's got a runny nose now." I zoomed in on the sonogram pictures. "But look! We got your first pictures!"

I tilted the camera back to Taehyung's red, swollen face. "Dad, got anything to say?"

He groaned, wiping his face with his sleeve again, the gesture half-hearted and sheepish. "Why are you recording this part?" he muttered, but his lips twitched, betraying a smile.

"Hi, baby. It's... your very emotional dad. Sorry you had to meet me like this."

I giggled behind the camera, and he glanced at me before continuing.

"I saw you today. You're like, this... tiny peanut. But you already flipped my whole world." His voice cracked a little at the end, and he laughed awkwardly to cover it.

"I don't know what kind of dad I'll be," he whispered, gaze still locked on the lens, "but I promise to love you more than anything. I already do. So much, it scares me."

I turned it back to myself, lips pressed tight to hold back my own emotions. "Well," I said, voice soft but steady, "this is day one of you making your dad cry."

Taehyung groaned.

"And we can't wait to meet you," I added, lowering the camera slowly as he pulled me into a warm, protective hug.

____________________

—June, 2013

I was one month pregnant today.

Only a month—barely a bump to show for it, no fluttery kicks, no baby rolls in my belly. The doctor said I'd start to feel movement during the second trimester, maybe toward the end of it. But for now, my baby was smaller than a plum and not even shaped like a baby yet, so I needed to relax and have patience.

Well, easy for her to say. She might've had thousands of pregnancy cases, but to me it was still my first. And I was already dying to hold my baby in my arms.

Everything felt normal, except—ta-da! Morning sickness.

They warn you about it, sure. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. It is. But why is it so casually accepted when it makes you feel like you're constantly being poisoned by your own stomach?

I couldn't even finish brushing my teeth without gagging this morning. And that was the good part of my day so far.

Most days, the nausea hit like a truck out of nowhere. Random and ruthless. Sometimes I cried through it—quietly, hunched over the toilet or the sink. Not because I regretted anything. God, no. But because this was hard. Being so in love with a tiny life while my body turned against itself was a strange kind of devotion.

But weirdly, I cherished it. Every twist of discomfort reminded me that there was someone in there. Someone growing. Someone I already loved with all my being, even though I hadn't met them.

Today was one of those rare mornings when I felt... decent. A little dizzy, sure, but not like I was about to hurl every five minutes. I was getting ready for work—like a semi-functional human being—and so was Taehyung.

I reached for the soft beige beret I'd bought last week. It matched perfectly with my long cream skirt and black turtleneck. Minimal, quite. Exactly the kind of comfort I needed.

"You're gonna mess up your hair like that," Taehyung's voice rumbled gently from behind me as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

I caught his eyes in the mirror—tired from lack of sleep but warm. Always warm. Like even just looking at me and our little passenger calmed him.

His hands slipped down to rest on my lower belly, where they always landed these days. It was second nature to him now—protective, present, reverent.

"I got it," I said, already adjusting the beret.

He smirked and spun me around, "No, you don't. You're putting it on backward, Picasso."

I let him fix it, his fingers soft and precise like he was placing a crown on royalty. Then he stepped back and gave me the once-over, hands resting on my arms.

"You sure you want to go?" he asked, brow furrowing. "You threw up twice yesterday."

I rolled my eyes, turning back to the mirror with a smile tugging at my lips. "I'm pregnant, not sick, mister. You say this every day. You sound like my mother."

He groaned dramatically and wrapped himself around me again. His hand instinctively cradled my belly, rubbing slow circles like he could soothe both of us.

It was wild how tender he'd become.

He was always loving—he always made me feel like the most precious thing in his life. But ever since I got pregnant, that love had expanded. Deepened. Multiplied.

It came in the form of prenatal vitamins lined up every morning. In bedtime massages, careful grocery lists, gentle reminders to sit down and rest. In whispered conversations with my belly. In soft forehead kisses. One month in, and he was already all-in for the eight months ahead.

He wasn't just in love with me anymore. He was in love with us. Me and the little life we'd made.

"You're not taking the subway," he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I huffed dramatically, tossing my head back. "Fine."

"I'll drop you off," he insisted, his voice softer now, laced with that protective edge.

I turned to him, ready to lean in for a kiss, his hands already on my waist—but then it hit. That familiar, cruel curl of nausea twisted through my stomach. No. Not now.

"Oh—" I gasped, shoving him aside and bolting for the bathroom.

Taehyung was behind me in an instant, holding my hair back, rubbing soothing circles on my back as I retched, the sound harsh and humiliating. His murmurs—soft, calming words—were drowned out by the ordeal, but his presence was steady, unwavering.

By the time I was done, I felt like a deflated balloon. Eyes watery, stomach hollow, and my dignity fully abandoned somewhere between the sink and the floor.

"I hate this," I groaned, slumping onto the counter.

"I hate watching you go through it," he said quietly, brushing strands of hair out of my face, his voice soft but full of concern like this was hurting him more than me.

I washed my face, then turned and leaned into him, letting his arms envelope me. My cheek against his chest, his heartbeat grounding me.

"You okay in there?" I murmured, resting a hand on my belly. "You better be. Because you've officially made me late for work—and now your dad's going to follow me around all day like a lost puppy."

Taehyung scoffed, a playful edge to his voice as he rubbed my back. "Hey, buddy, don't do that to your mom. She hates when I show up at her workplace."

I smacked his chest with a smirk, "That's because you walk in there like a drama lead and make every woman sigh like she's sixteen again."

He laughed, the sound bright and boyish, pulling away just enough to look at me. "Your mom's such a jealous one," he said to my belly, winking at me.

"Yes, I am." I shot back, sashaying out of the bathroom with a dramatic flick of my hair, grabbing my bag.

He followed, his grin wide and teasing, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Want me to stop at the beunggo-ppang place before the library?" he asked, tilting his head with that charming lilt.

I lit up like a kid, bouncing on my toes. "Of course!"

He looked so pleased with himself, like he'd just won Best Husband Ever.

As expected, Taehyung, ever the dramatic, refused to let me walk down the stairs alone. He slipped on his shoes first, then hissed when I reached for mine, his pout comically stern.

Kneeling before me, he slid my shoes onto my feet with the reverence of a prince fitting Cinderella's slipper. A blush crept up my cheeks as I chuckled, my heart swelling.

Then, without saying a word, he leaned forward and kissed my belly through the fabric of my dress. A soft whisper followed, so quiet it might've just been a prayer.

"Hey... no more surprises today, okay? Let mom do her work. And I'll come pick you both up later."

I didn't say anything. But I hoped the baby could feel all of this—the care, the silliness, the softness. The love that wrapped us up like a home.
Because even if the baby couldn't hear me yet, I wanted it to know.

He/She were already everything.

_____________________

A/n:- *yawns* I hate happiness.
(wrote this one in hurry)