—May, 2013.

My steps were groggy as I climbed down the stairs, dragging the oversized hem of my pajama pants along with me. I'd brushed my teeth, even splashed cold water to wake myself up—but nope. My body was still in sleep mode.

Actually... I've been feeling like this for days now. Too sleepy. Too slow. Too much of something I couldn't understand.

I didn't even realize Taehyung had left for work until I called his name and got no response and then found a small sticky note on his pillow.

<"Slept too much. Dreaming about me?"

He was cheesy.

The moment I stepped into the hallway, a deliciously familiar smell hit me like a memory—kimchi pancakes.

My stomach growled so dramatically I actually looked down at it. And only one person could be behind that scent—Taehyung's mother. I didn't waste another second and rushed towards the kitchen.

I leaned my elbows on the kitchen counter, a sleepy smile tugging at my lips as I peeked over at the pan and then my gaze shifted to the chef—my mother-in-law—her hair swept into her signature neat bun, swaying gently to the nostalgic hum of trot music spilling from her phone as she cooked.

"Good morning!" she said, glancing up with a soft chuckle, her voice always so motherly it made my shoulders drop in comfort.

"Good morning, Mom." I chuckled back, sleepy-eyed, as I stepped into the kitchen and perched myself on the stool by the counter.

She came over last night, arms loaded with side dishes and a mountain of vegetables. Apparently, we were "getting too thin without adult supervision."
We'd had dinner together, gossiped a bit, and by the time it got late, I begged her to stay the night.

Now here she was. Reclaiming the kitchen like she owned it.

"Taehyung didn't even stay for breakfast." she muttered with a pout.

I nodded with a knowing smile. "He had a really important meeting today. You know how he is about work..." I said, rubbing my eyes.

She shook her head with a little scoff. "Perfectionist." she spat like it was an actual insult.

I laughed softly. "He takes after you, though. I mean, seriously—how are you this energetic in the morning? I can barely walk straight."

She rolled her eyes playfully and passed me a cup of tea she freshly poured into the cup. "Old people magic, I guess?" she said.

I wrapped my hands around the mug, inhaling the rich, earthy aroma like it was my lifeline. The warmth of the tea, her familiar presence, the savory promise of pancakes—it was almost too perfect, like a moment stolen from a quieter, softer life. My heart swelled under the weight of her affection.

"Want cookies, sweetheart?" she asked, already reaching for the drawer where she kept her stash of homemade treats last night.

"Uh... no" I said quickly, sipping my tea.

She paused. Slowly turned to give me that look. The classic: "don't you usually devour cookies like they're air?" look.

I chuckled awkwardly, lowering my cup. "I don't know why," I shrugged, "but I've been super sensitive to some sweets lately. Like, too sweet makes me gag now. It's strange."

Her eyebrow arched, sharp and knowing, a flicker of something unspoken passing through her gaze. My stomach did a tiny flip, a flicker of panic sparking in my chest.

What was that look?

But I shoved the thought down, flashing a grin. "But I'm definitely stealing those kimchi pancakes!" I declared, leaning forward with exaggerated enthusiasm to steer the moment back to safety.

Her suspicion softened into a fond smile. She flipped another perfectly golden pancake onto a plate, "Of course you are, sweetheart."

I sat leaned back on my chair, cradling my tea mug, its warmth seeping into my palms as I watched her glide through the kitchen with an ease that made it feel like her own.

Honestly, I didn't mind one bit. Her presence was a quiet anchor, steadying something inside me that had been adrift for days.

Lately, I haven't felt like myself. My moods swung like a pendulum—one minute fine, the next inexplicably teary. My stomach churned at odd times, and my sleep was a mess, worse than a toddler's after a sugar high.

Something was off. Not bad, just... different. My body felt heavier, not with exhaustion but with a strange weight, like it was carrying a secret I hadn't caught up to. I chalked it up to sleepless nights or Taehyung's relentless passion—let's be real, his stamina was a recurring issue.

But this morning, my phone pinged with a notification that stopped me cold. My period tracker, usually ignored, blared:

"Day 34. No period logged."

I blinked at the screen, my eyes darting to the calendar as my brain did the math.

Day thirty-four?

My lips pressed into a thin line.

What is going on?

I mentally shushed the spiral threatening to unravel. I wasn't about to lose it over this. Stress and other things had delayed my period before too—irregular cycles weren't new and my doctor said that sometimes it was normal. Totally normal.

So I didn't take anything seriously or let my thoughts crawl the other way. I managed everything—emotions, work, life and this weird feeling on my own—like I always do.

But this morning... watching her in the kitchen—humming softly, flipping pancakes like she wasn't single-handedly resurrecting my soul, it felt... nice. I didn't realize how much I needed someone—a woman—to just be here.

She glanced at me mid-cooking, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "You look pale, sweetheart."

"Hm?" I blinked, caught off guard, my fingers tightening around the mug.

"Your face..." she said, pointing with the spatula, her tone gentle but probing. "Are you taking good rest?"

"Yeah," I lied, the word slipping out on reflex. "Just tired?"

She nodded, but her gaze lingered, skeptical, like she could see straight through me. "Sometimes, when a woman's tired for no reason, it's not just tiredness," she mused, almost to herself, as she turned back to the fridge.

My heart stuttered, a quick, sharp skip that made my breath catch.

"Maybe you're low on iron." she added casually, her focus back on the sizzling pan.

I exhaled, the tension loosening just a fraction. Iron. Right. I am definitely low on iron. That made more sense than the wild theories my mind seemed to be whispering all morning.

She slid a plate of golden, crispy kimchi pancakes in front of me, stacked high like she was feeding a child. "Mom, that's too many pancakes!" I blinked flustered.

"Nonsense," she said, waving me off with a flick of her hand, her eyes warm with affection. "What's the point of having a daughter-in-law if I can't spoil her like my own?"

Her words hit deeper than they should have, a tender ache blooming in my chest. She and Taehyung's dad, both always treated me like a daughter; infact they treated me better than Taehyung, which sometimes made him question his existence.

I swallowed the stupid happy tears down, picking up a pancake and taking a bite. The warm, spicy tang exploded on my tongue, grounding me in a way that felt better than a hug. My eyes fluttered shut for a moment, savoring it.

"You let me know if anything feels... off, okay?" she said, wiping her hands on a towel, her tone gentle but firm. "Your body knows things before your mind catches up. Don't ignore it."

I froze mid-bite, the pancake suddenly heavy in my mouth. My gaze lingered on her, searching her face for a clue. She didn't know—not really. But her words landed like a stone in still water, rippling through the quiet doubts I'd been pushing away.

Maybe... my body did know something. And I should try to find out what, instead of fearing away from the truth.

---------------

After breakfast, I went upstairs to get ready for work. I freshened up, slipped into a soft beige blouse and green trousers, and came down—only to find Mom packing tiffin for Taehyung like he was a primary school student who forgot to take his brunch.

"He's going to faint in that damn boardroom." she muttered, carefully packing grilled vegetables, rice, and the pancakes she'd made.

I stood by the kitchen archway, holding my bag. "Mom, I'll go to his office and give it to him first thing. Don't worry."

Her face softened a little with relief. "Good girl."

I smiled and gently tucked the tiffin box into my tote. "Also, let me drop you home on the way. Seriously, you don't need to clean the house—we have Sarah." I said, watching her march toward the living room like she didn't hear a word.

"YN, I literally have no work at home. Let me do this." she huffed, rolling her eyes as she adjusted the sofa cushions and sprayed the coffee table.

I sighed, following her. "Mom, if you do all this Taehyung's going to think I'm making his mother do house labor."

She paused. Turned. Gave me that look.

"And since when is this Taehyung's house?" she raised a brow, sass in her tone. "My dear daughter-in-law, I swear I'll leave once I'm done cleaning. This old lady won't be here by evening to disturb your peace, so relax."

Her dramatics made me burst out laughing. "Alright, alright, stubborn woman." I gave in, pulling her into a hug.

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled into my shoulder, patting my head gently before pulling away. "Drive safely. And text me when you reach."

I nodded, waving as I grabbed my keys.

Slipping into the car, I felt the engine hum to life under my hands, the familiar rumble steadying my nerves. I eased out of the gates, my hand brushing the tiffin bag on the passenger seat, its warmth a quiet reminder of her care.

I was glad I'd be the one delivering it to Taehyung. It gave me an excuse to see him. And maybe—I'd finally find the courage to talk to him about the thought that had been gnawing at me.

That thirty-four-day itch I'd been trying so hard to ignore, the one that felt less like stress and more like a whisper I wasn't ready to hear.

___________________

I pulled into the parking lot across of Taehyung's office, easing the car into our usual spot. The towering glass building loomed above, a sleek monolith housing a maze of departments buzzing with ambition.

As I approached the entrance, the guards at the glass doors bowed with practiced respect. I nodded back, a small smile tugging at my lips, and stepped inside, the cool air-conditioned lobby a sharp contrast to the humid morning.

Familiar faces lit up as I passed—receptionists, assistants, a few junior staff who'd seen me here before. I offered polite nods, my heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor.

This wasn't my first rodeo at Taehyung's workplace; I'd dropped by enough times to be a known quantity.

At the elevator, I reached for the button, but a hand beat me to it—Jimin, all charm and easy grace, his tailored suit as sharp as his grin.

"Hey, Jimin!" I greeted, my mood lifting as we stepped into the elevator together.

He pulled me into a quick side hug, his hand playfully ruffling my hair. "Well, hello, Mrs. Kim. What a pleasant surprise!" he teased, his eyes crinkling with mischief.

"Where are you coming from? Running late?" I shot back, raising a brow as the doors slid shut.

"Excuse me, I'm the poster boy for punctuality." he scoffed, adjusting his tie with a dramatic flourish before breaking into a grin. "My team had a brutal morning thanks to your husband's meeting, so I treated them to coffee to keep morale from tanking."

I held up the tiffin bag, waving it with mock indignation. "Excuse me, my husband didn't even eat breakfast because of that meeting!" I said, rolling my eyes for effect.

Jimin laughed, leaning against the elevator wall. "Yeah, well, he made us all want to toss ours with the anxiety he brought to that boardroom." he quipped, mirroring my eye-roll.

I burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the small space. "I know he did."

"How's our baby Jae? And is Fatima holding up okay?" I asked, settling into the familiar rhythm of our banter.

Jimin rubbed his temples dramatically. "Do you see these dark circles?" He pointed to his under-eyes—barely visible behind his designer frames. "He's already one, yet he refuses to get used to the human sleep cycle."

"At this point, I think babies are cute just so they can trap us into baby fever." he huffed, but his voice held nothing but exhausted affection. "There's nothing cute about the smell of baby poop."

I laughed, smacking his arm lightly.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to Taehyung's floor. We stepped out, Jimin still chuckling as he adjusted his glasses. "No, seriously," he added, "that kid's charm is a lethal weapon."

I laughed again, a low chuckle escaping me as I clutched the tiffin bag a little tighter. There was something comforting about Jimin's chaotic warmth. He always made everything feel light. Safe. Human.

And we were so caught up in our banter that I didn't notice we'd reached Taehyung's cabin until my eyes lifted and the world stilled.

Through the transparent glass of his cabin, there I saw—

Taehyung.

Leaning over his desk.

Laughing.

Next to a woman.

A pretty, pretty woman. Her hair was neatly tied into a pony tail, and her glasses perched perfectly on her pointed nose. She looked classy even in her formal work attire.

She was sitting on a chair and held a file in her hand, showing Taehyung something as they talked beyond the glass windows, the noise ventilation cutting their voices.

But that wasn't the issue here—because he—was leaning just a bit too close as he pointed at the paper, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that familiar, heart-stopping grin.

And just like that, the sunshine over my head vanished. Grey clouds replaced it, thick and sudden.

Thunderclap!

"That's his new secretary" Jimin whispered, leaning close like he was gossiping at brunch, clearly taking advantage.

My head whipped toward him with a warning look. "Park Jimin."

He smirked, unapologetically smug. "Just saying." He shrugged.

My glare deepened.

"Ok, I'll go before you accidentally throw the tiffin at me" he teased, backing away with his hands up. "But hey, do you think he's flirting?"

I hissed. And he took off, laughing down the hallway like a school kid who just poked a lioness with a stick. Brat.

I turned back to the glass.

Taehyung had settled back into his chair now, rolling a pen between his long fingers with that effortless grace of his. The secretary was still there, perched across from him, too comfortable in her seat, too at ease in his space.

That's her job, obviously.

Then, his eyes lifted. They found mine through the glass, and his face transformed—lit up like the sun breaking through dark clouds. He stood, chair scraping back, and strode toward the door with a purpose that made my heart stutter.

My hands twitched at my sides, the tiffin bag suddenly heavy.

Why did it hurt?

He hadn't even looked in her eyes. Didn't smile that wide. What in the world was I even thinking? This was nothing—nothing at all—to be jealous of. But the image of them, heads bent together, her laughter mingling with his, lodged like a splinter in my throat and refused to budge.

I know, they were just speaking. And I wasn't the kind to get jealous for just speaking to people; neither was he. But today...today was different. Today I was feeling out of it, out of my usual self and maybe I was just tired. Maybe I was hormonal. Maybe I was both. Or maybe... I just didn't like seeing my man laugh with another woman...

He opened the cabin door with a boyish grin. "Love~" he chuckled, pulling me into a lazy hug. His arms wrapped around me like they'd missed me for years.

I should've melted. I usually do.
But today?
Today, I stayed stiff.

He pulled back just enough to look at my face and planted a kiss on my nose. Gentle. Familiar. Like it always was.

Still, I didn't soften.

I held up the tiffin wordlessly, with a small smile like it was a peace treaty from someone who wasn't feeling very peaceful.

He took it gratefully, sighing. "I'm starving." Then he looked at me with that soft smile—the one only I get. "Stay. Lunch break is in fifteen minutes. Let's eat together?"

I gently slipped my hand out of his hold. "It's okay. I have work at the library." I said, forcing a smile.

He rolled his eyes playfully. "What important work could you have at a library?"

That was it.

That one line.

That tiny, harmless jab. Which I would've ignored any other day, hit me like a brick today. I blinked slowly. My smile faltered.

"Why?" I said, my voice sharper than intended. "Just because I don't have a demanding job like you?"

His expression changed instantly. The teasing dropped. "I didn't mean it like that—"

"Of course not," I cut him off with a bitter smile. "Bye, Taehyung."

And I turned on my heel walking away—running away like a coward. My steps swift and final, refusing to look back because I knew I was going to break.

The elevator loomed ahead, a beacon of escape. My eyes stung, a hot pressure building behind them. I blinked rapidly, willing the tears to stay down. I wasn't crying. I wasn't.

But why the hell was I?

Was it because he laughed with her? Because he leaned too close? Or was it the way I felt... invisible, like a ghost in my own story?

Maybe it was the ache that had been simmering for days, unnoticed until now—this heavy, hollow feeling of being emotionally overflowing yet physically drained, like a cup filled to the brim but cracked at the base.

Whatever it was, it was too much. And the worst part? I didn't know how to explain it to him without sounding like I was losing it.

_______________________

I didn't reply to his texts all day.

Not the first one that said, "You looked really pretty today."

Not the second: "Can we talk?"

Not the third: "I'm sorry if I said something wrong."

And definitely not the eighth: "YN, please."

It wasn't that I wanted to be cruel. I just... didn't know how to talk without crying. Without sounding unreasonably sensitive. Without admitting that the image of him leaning in and laughing with someone else made my chest ache more than it should have.

More than that—I had no idea how to explain my stupid behavior this morning.

So I buried myself in library work. Stamping dates. Filing returns. Shuffling books I'd already arranged twice. I even reorganized the romance section alphabetically just so I wouldn't scroll through our texts again.

The sky outside had turned a soft orange now—almost 5 p.m. My shift was ending. I was gathering my things, still trying to convince myself that my mood wasn't obvious, when the door chimed open.

And in walked the exact man I was trying to emotionally distance myself from.

His beige coat hung perfectly on his frame, hair mussed by the wind, a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in one hand.

His eyes—those warm, searching eyes—swept the room and found me instantly, like I was the only thing worth seeing. A promise—he'd always find me. No matter how far I tried to run in my head.

I dropped my gaze, fumbling with my bag's zipper as if it demanded my full attention.

"Hi," he said softly, stepping in front of my desk.

That one word made my heart race against my will. But I didn't respond. Not even a glance.

He sighed, crouching slightly to meet my eyes. "Still mad?"

I reached for a book, pretending I hadn't heard.

He chuckled under his breath. "Wait..." he whispered dramatically, tilting his head, "Are you... jealous?"

My eyes shot up before I could stop them.

He smirked—boyish, smug, entirely unbothered. "You're jealous of Sohee?"

"I don't even know her name."

"Well, that's because you didn't let me introduce you," he said with a shrug. "You ran off like Cinderella."

I rolled my eyes, standing to grab my tote and walking toward the door. "Whatever."

He followed, his footsteps a steady echo behind me, undeterred by the storm cloud of my thoughts. "You know," he said, slipping his hands into his coat pockets, "I only love one woman."

"Taehyung," I warned, my voice tight but wavering.

He grinned, undaunted. "And I'm completely obsessed with her."

I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting the smile tugging at my lips. He saw it anyway—damn him.

"She's got a killer side-eye, the softest hands, and the worst habit of ghosting me when I'm trying to apologize."

"That sounds unhealthy." I muttered, picking up my pace, the library's quiet fading into the hum of the street outside.

He matched my stride effortlessly. "It is. She's bad for my heart. But I still want to marry her again."

The words cracked my defenses, a smile breaking through like sunlight through a storm. I turned my head to hide it, but it was too late.

"You smiled," he said, beaming like he'd won a prize. "I saw that."

"No, I didn't."

"You totally did."

I shook my head, lips trembling with the effort to stay stern. He slid in front of me, blocking my path with that easy grace of his. "Let me buy you snacks."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Snacks?"

He leaned in, voice low and playful, "A lot of them."

I chuckled.

"Because apparently choco pies are excellent for calming irrational jealousy." he winked.

"I wasn't jealous..." I said, poking his chest, finally—finally—caving.

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "Then let's just call it... possessiveness. Which, by the way, I find very sexy."

I sighed, defeated. But my mood had already softened like butter on toast.

"Fine," I muttered. "Five snacks."

"Ten." he bargained, eyes gleaming.

"Fifteen."

"Whole store."

He reached for my hand and laced our fingers together like it was muscle memory. "Convenience store date it is, Mrs. Kim." he said, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

And just like that, I let him lead me into the streetlight sunset, toward a corner store and away from all the pointless ache I could finally start to breathe past.

----------------

The drive home was quiet.
But not the uncomfortable kind.
The soft, cozy kind.

Taehyung drove with one hand on the wheel and the other loosely holding mine on the center console, his thumb drawing slow, absentminded circles on my skin. The radio hummed a low jazz tune, the city outside glowing in golden streetlamps and the flicker of passing headlights.

He kept glancing at me—like I might float away if he looked anywhere else for too long.

I stayed quiet, sipping on my soda as I gazed out the window, the other hand clutching the handles of our convenience store bag.

The one that now held... more than just snacks.

We reached home a little after seven.

He parked smoothly in the basement lot and walked around to open my door before I could even unbuckle.
"My lady," he said with a tiny smirk, holding his hand out.

I tried not to smile, but failed.
"You're dramatic."

"You love it." he whispered.

And he was right.

His arm slung over my shoulders as I leaned into his side. The moment the main door opened, the familiar warmth of home wrapped around me like a blanket. The soft lights were already on—thanks to motion sensors—casting everything in a mellow glow.

"Where's Mom?" he asked, locking the door behind us.

"She left around noon," I answered, slipping off my shoes.

"Did she clean the house before leaving?"

I gave him a look.

He burst out laughing. "She never listens."

"She packed your tiffin and still cleaned everything," I muttered, setting the convenience store bag on the kitchen counter. "Honestly, you're her favorite."

"She's got good taste," he winked, pulling off his coat.

I rolled my eyes and started unpacking the snacks. He came up behind me, arms slipping around my waist as he rested his chin on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he murmured softly, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

I leaned back into him, exhaling.

"Next time I hire a secretary, I'll make sure she's at least ninety-five years old."

"Good," I muttered. "She better not have working knees either."

He burst out laughing, spinning me around to face him. His hands came up to cup my cheeks, and he kissed me. Soft and familiar.

I kissed him back, but my hands trembled slightly at my sides.
Because inside that bag...
Were three pregnancy test kits I'd slipped in quietly while he was distracted at the snack aisle.

He pulled back and kissed my neck, and I hummed as my fingers brushing his torso.

"Let me cook something for you. Sweet?" he said, moving back a little, his smile fond.

I scoffed lazily. "You know I can't handle sweet smells these days..."

He tilted his head, frowning slightly. "Hmm. Why is that? Did you go to a doctor?"

I blinked.
"I'm sure it's nothing serious," I said quickly, brushing it off with a smile. "And I'm okay," I added, moving around him to grab plates for dinner—Sarah had already cooked before leaving.

He didn't press. Just stepped beside me to take the dishes to the dining table, wordless but present. Like always.

I knew it was probably nothing. I knew I was just being paranoid.
But still—
I needed to know. I needed to be sure. I needed something real to hold on to... to quiet this growing ache of fear and unease that had been haunting me in waves lately.

And tonight, once the lights were off and the house was quiet... I would find out.

___________________

The house had gone quiet.

The clock struck 2 a.m., but I was still very much awake.

Taehyung was in the bedroom, obliviously asleep. He hadn't even noticed I had slipped out of bed nearly half an hour ago. And I'd been here since—on the cold bathroom floor—just trying to breathe.

The bathroom light was dim, brownish. I stood up again, my hands cold and trembling as I tucked the loose strands of my hair behind my ears. My eyes flicked up and my reflection stared back at me, still.

My face looked pale, tired. Like I'd seen a ghost. Maybe I had—just not the kind that floats or haunts. The kind that changes everything.

My fingers gripped the counter, nails digging in slightly as my eyes flicked to the three boxes lined up beside the sink.

The packaging felt too loud in the stillness. But my heartbeat was louder.

I wasn't ready.
But I needed to know.

With trembling hands, I tore open the first one. The instructions were simple. Almost too simple. Like they didn't know how terrifyingly real this was.

It took me a full minute just to steady my breath. Another to gather the courage to move.

Minutes passed like hours.

I placed the first test down. Turned away. Sat on the closed toilet lid, knees pulled to my chest, arms wrapped tight around myself as I stared blankly at the floor tiles.

It's nothing.
Just a late cycle.
Stress.
Hormones.
Fatigue.

But no matter how many times I whispered excuses in my head, the familiar, unbearable weight in my chest told me otherwise. It was the kind of heaviness that settles when something inside you already knows.

Two minutes.

I stood up, knees weak, and reached for the kit.

Positive.

I took the other two tests. And they showed the same result, as well. Positive.

The tests slipped from my hands and clattered softly onto the counter.

Two lines.
Two soft, pink lines that shifted something deep inside me—something I couldn't name yet.

I wrapped my arms around myself, unable to look away. I kept staring at them like they might change if I blinked long enough.

My hands were shaking again as I reached for one of the tests. I stared down at it, hoping maybe, just maybe, I'd misread it. But no. The lines were clear. Steady. Unmistakable.

I placed it back down gently. Like it was something sacred. Like it might break if I breathed too hard.

I was pregnant.

I was pregnant?

I should've smiled.
I should've cried in joy.
I should've run to him—shaking him awake, breathless with the miracle of it, should've kissed him, told him we were going to be parents.

But instead... I stood there. Frozen.

Not because I wasn't happy. Not because I didn't want this. I'd love to be a mother, it's just I never knew it'll come like this, suddenly. The news felt too big for my body to hold. Too tender. Too terrifying. Too everything.

I was overwhelmed with awe—but my skin was ice cold.

Was I really pregnant?
Me?
Am I really going to be a mom?

The bedroom was dim when I walked out, the test tightly held in my palm. The curtains float softly with the breeze, a stark contrast to the storm inside me.

Taehyung lay curled around my pillow, arms tucked beneath his head, peaceful and unaware of the ticking bomb I was bringing with me.

I padded across the room on quiet feet, sat on the edge of the bed, and just looked at him.

How would he react?
Happy? Disappointed?
Or just freeze in the moment, without knowing what to do with this new piece of information about me carrying a child?

I almost forced myself to sleep, but before I could my hands already reached his arm and I shook him gently.

"Tae..."

He stirred almost instantly.

"Yn?" he murmured, voice gravelly from sleep. "Why are you...what happened?"

I hesitated.

He leaned closer towards me, still half-asleep, eyes barely open as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"You okay?" he asked gently, sensing something.

I bit my lip. "Tae..."

"Mm?"

"I... I have to tell you something. But promise you won't freak out."

He blinked, slowly waking up now. "Okay... You didn't burn the kitchen or anything, right?"

"Tae—"

"Sorry, sorry," he chuckled sleepily. "Go on."

I sat up straighter, trying to calm the wild thumping of my heart. "I'm... late."

He frowned, confused. "Late for what?"

I gave him a look, this man was testing me. "Periods"

And it clicked.

"Oh." he scratched his head.

I nodded, throat dry. "So I took a test. I mean—I wasn't going to panic, but I kept waiting and waiting, and then I bought one today and... it was positive."

His lips parted slightly. His eyes searched mine with wide, startled focus.
The sleep vanished from his face.
He sat up fully now, every muscle alert, like the world had suddenly tilted.

"You're saying... we're... you're...?"

I nodded again. Swallowed hard. Held out the test in my trembling hand.

"I'm pregnant."

SILENCE...

Then his hand reached up slowly, resting against my stomach with a kind of quiet wonder I couldn't describe.

"You're pregnant?" he repeated, softer this time. Like the words were sacred. Like they were too beautiful to speak aloud without reverence.

I held my breath.

I thought he wouldn't be ready.
I thought he'd panic, or go quiet, or say something logical and detached like, "Let's figure it out." Because I was spiraling. Because I was overwhelmed. Because under my quietness, I felt like I was going insane.

But then—I saw it.

His eyes glossed over. And then the softest, most breathtaking smile curved across his face. Slowly. Almost shy. Until it bloomed, wide and unfiltered, pure joy radiating from it.

And then he jumped.

Like, literally bounced in his place like an excited kid.

"Mrs. Kim," he said, nearly breathless. "We made a person?!" He cupped my cheeks with both hands, still blinking in disbelief.

I just sat there, frozen, processing.

"You're not... mad?" I asked, small and stunned.

"Mad?" He scoffed, laughing through his disbelief as he pulled me into his lap. "YN, I think you just made me the happiest man alive."

And that was all it took.

The dam broke.

I burst into tears—ugly, messy, full-body sobs that shook through me as I curled into his chest.

"YN..." he murmured, instantly wrapping his arms around me. "Hey, love..." He rocked us gently, one hand cradling my back, the other smoothing down my hair. "Why are you crying like this?"

"I thought you'd be mad," I choked out. "I thought you didn't like babies—"

"Why wouldn't I like our own babies?" he asked, still stroking my back with gentle circles. "Why would I ever be mad about this?"

"I don't know," I cried harder into his shirt. "I just... I felt so overwhelmed. And scared. And now you're happy and I don't even know why I'm crying and—"

He laughed softly, pulling back just enough to lift my face. His thumbs wiped at my tears with so much care it broke me all over again.

"Is this... hormones?" he asked gently, head tilting. "Wait, wait, are you craving something? Strawberries? Spicy noodles? Something weird?"

I sniffled, snorting a tiny laugh through my tears. "Long drive," I mumbled. "And ramen. Icecream too."

His whole face lit up like it was Christmas morning.

"Say no more."

He threw the blanket off, jumped up from bed, and reached for the track suit tossed over the chair. Then grabbed his keys like a man on a mission.

"You're not serious—Tae, it's 3 a.m."

He turned, already zipping up his jacket. "I don't care even if it's 5 a.m.," he said, eyes twinkling. "My wife just told me we're having a baby. If you want ramen and ice cream, I'll drive you to the ends of the earth to find them."

"The store is just 2 mins from here" I scoff in awe.

"Still going to the ends of earth" he huffed like a man on a mission, pulling me up.

I held his wrist, fingers curling just slightly. "You're really happy, right? I mean... it's only been 3 years to our wedding. I thought—maybe—"

He tilted his head back, staring at me like I'd just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he said, eyes wide, voice soft with disbelief. "I mean—look at who's carrying them. You really think I wouldn't want a little version of you running around?"

A broken laugh escaped me—watery, unsteady. Half-crying, half-breathing again for the first time in what felt like forever.

"YN," he whispered, gently taking both my hands in his and pressing them to his chest. His heart thudded strong and steady beneath my palms. "I'm already in love with something the size of a sesame seed. Do you understand how insane that is?"

And in that moment...

All I could do was stare at him—completely undone and completely in love—with the man who just promised to chase down icecream and ramen in the middle of the night.

For us.

For me.

And for the sesame seed growing inside me.

____________________

A/n:- too many fluffy chapters... 🤔