Archive of Our Own ^beta

The room was quiet, the only sounds coming from the TV as Yeonwoo and his wife, Haesol lounged on the couch, a cozy scene of domestic bliss – until his beautiful, loving spouse, casually looked over at him and said, “I’m pregnant.”

Yeonwoo’s brain froze. The words entered his ears, but his mind seemed to refuse them, bouncing around in disbelief. He blinked, turned to her, and said, “Uh… could you say that again?”

“I’m pregnant,” she repeated, as if she’d merely mentioned they were out of toothpaste.

Yeonwoo’s mind short-circuited. “P-Pregnant?” His voice cracked. “Like… as in, with a baby?”

She raised an eyebrow, her face betraying no emotion. “I don’t think there’s another kind of pregnant, Yeonwoo.”

He stared, slack jawed. He could feel the storm of an existential crisis brewing inside his mind, his thoughts racing at a million miles an hour. We’re going to have a kid. There will be a tiny human who’s half me and half Haesol. Oh no, what if they inherit my inability to make decisions or her habit of falling asleep in the middle of conversations?

“Yeonwoo, breathe,” Haesol’s calm voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.

“Right. Right! I’m breathing. Totally breathing,” he said, hands waving in frantic reassurance. “I’m not upset or anything – I’m the complete opposite of upset! I’m just, uh, in shock. Wait, how are you so calm about this?!”

She tilted her head, looking at him as if he’d asked why the sky was blue. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like it was completely unexpected… after Paris.”

Yeonwoo’s face went beet red. Images from their Paris trip – romantic dinners, a walk along the Seine, and… certain events from their nights – came flooding back, vivid and unfiltered. He slapped his hand over his face, determined to push the images out of his mind. Get a grip, Yeonwoo. Focus.

“Oh, right… Paris,” he mumbled, his voice faint. A giddy laugh bubbled up inside him, and without thinking, he practically lunged at her, wrapping his arms around her back in a bear hug.

Her calm façade cracked, just a bit, as she let out a soft chuckle and hugged him back. She leaned into him, and together they sank back onto the couch, his head resting against her shoulder. He closed his eyes, letting himself absorb the joy and warmth radiating through him.

“I’m… I’m so happy, Haesol,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Raising a child with you… that’s like a dream.”

He felt a tear slip down his cheek, and he heard her soft chuckle again. “I had a feeling you’d cry,” she teased, squeezing him a little tighter.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the moment settle in. Yeonwoo couldn’t have felt happier or more at peace. They were going to have a family, and everything about it felt perfect. There was nothing in the world that could ruin this moment.

The very next day, Yeonwoo and Haesol called his parents with the big news. They expected excitement, maybe even a few tears over the phone. What they didn't expect was to hear the doorbell ring a few hours later.

Yeonwoo opened the door, and there they were – his parents, looking as though they’d just crossed an ocean to get there. His dad immediately pulled Yeonwoo into a bear hug, his face breaking into a grin so wide it looked like it might stick that way forever.

“Oh, my boy, my wonderful boy!” his dad cried, planting a flurry of enthusiastic kisses on Yeonwoo’s cheeks. “You’re going to be a dad! A dad!”

Meanwhile, Yeonwoo’s mom made a beeline for Haesol, who stood there a little stiffly as her mother-in-law wrapped her up in a hug just as fervently, rocking her back and forth with surprising strength.

“Oh, Haesol, my dear! You’re carrying our grandchild! I’m so happy!” Yeonwoo’s mom cooed, stroking Haesol’s hair like she was some cherished relic.

“Thank you, Mother,” Haesol replied, standing ramrod straight, her expression as awkward as it was neutral. She gave a small, polite nod, her own awkward version of reciprocating.

Yeonwoo, still stuck in his dad’s iron grip, glanced at her, mouthing sorry over his dad’s shoulder. Haesol’s eyes seemed to say, I’ve signed up for this, apparently.

Moments later, the four of them were crowded in the living room, and Yeonwoo’s parents had somehow managed to dominate the conversation entirely. His dad was already jotting down potential names in a notebook, while his mom flipped through her phone with the zeal of someone planning a full-scale event.

“What do you think of Jihoon if it’s a boy? Or maybe Minji for a girl?” his dad suggested, scribbling the names down with serious concentration.

“Oh, I’ve already bookmarked this adorable little baby store,” his mom said with a gasp. “We need to start buying clothes – of course, we’ll need to get both boy and girl outfits, just to be prepared.”

Both Yeonwoo and Haesol just sat there, nodding along with dazed expressions as his parents spun further into baby fever.

Yeonwoo dared a quick glance at Haesol, who looked more bewildered than ever. She had only told him the day before – she was barely four weeks in, and yet here his parents were, planning like the baby was already ready for kindergarten.

“And of course, you’ll need some time off work, won’t you, Haesol?” his mom asked, glancing up with a knowing smile. “It’s important to rest in these early months. I’d say at least three months off, maybe even six if you can swing it.”

Yeonwoo bit his lip, stifling a laugh as he watched Haesol blink in surprise. “Um… thank you, Mother, but… I just… I’m only four weeks.” she said, like she was reminding herself as much as them.

“Oh, that’s practically a few months!” his dad beamed, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s never too early to plan, right?”

After what felt like hours of discussion about names, nursery themes, and maternity leave, Yeonwoo’s parents finally left, both of them beaming as they walked out the door.

The house fell blissfully silent as the door clicked shut. Yeonwoo let out a long breath and collapsed on the couch, pulling his wife down beside him.

Later that night, as they lay in bed, Yeonwoo stared up at the ceiling, still trying to wrap his mind around everything. The image of his dad’s eager face and his mom’s flurry of baby outfit ideas flashed before him.

After a beat, he turned to Haesol, who was lying beside him with her usual calm expression.

“So… do you think it’s a girl or a boy?” he whispered, his voice soft and a little wistful.

Haesol didn’t even open her eyes. “Yeonwoo, it’s three in the morning.”

He paused, blinking. “Oh… right,” he mumbled, trying not to laugh, even as a smile tugged at his lips.

They were tempted to tell their friends the news over the phone, but just imagining the look on Junhyuk and Nari’s faces quickly changed their minds. Instead, they decided to meet up in person, messaging the group chat with a casual Let’s meet up on Saturday. Everyone was quick to agree.

When the day rolled around, they gathered at a cozy café for coffee and catching up. Naturally, Yeonwoo thought this would be the perfect moment to share the news – calm setting, no distractions, everyone sitting down. But of course, his wife’s sense of humor didn’t quite align with his.

The big reveal came later in the evening, at the bar.

Junhyuk and Jinwoo, locked in their eternal rivalry, were mid-competition to see who could chug their beer the fastest. It was a ridiculous sight – Junhyuk hunched over his mug like his life depended on it and Jinwoo downing his drink with the ferocity of someone trying to win Olympic gold.

Haesol, ever the opportunist, chose this exact moment to casually drop the news. “By the way, I’m pregnant.”

Junhyuk froze, his mug still halfway to his lips, his eyes wide with shock. Jinwoo, caught mid-gulp, made a noise that could only be described as a gargled splat as beer went everywhere –table, floor, his shirt, you name it. They both choked on their drinks in unison, as though choreographed, coughing and sputtering in a way that had the rest of the bar turning their heads.

Meanwhile, Nari and Yeseul immediately burst into tears. “Oh my god, congratulations!” they cried, grabbing Haesol’s hands across the table, their voices shaking with emotion.

Yeonwoo, caught between gratitude and secondhand embarrassment, glanced over at his two best friends, who were still fighting to breathe like fish out of water. “Uh, you guys okay over there?”

Junhyuk finally managed to cough out a raspy, “You couldn’t have waited five seconds?” while Jinwoo slumped back in his chair, waving off Yeonwoo’s concern. “We’re fine,” he wheezed. “Totally fine. Just dying over here.”

The chaos didn’t end there. Once Jinwoo recovered, he immediately stood up, put Yeonwoo in a headlock, and ruffled his hair in a way that screamed older brother energy. “You dog!” Jinwoo exclaimed, laughing as Yeonwoo flailed helplessly. “I never thought you had it in you!”

Yeonwoo squirmed, his voice muffled. “Let me go, you idiot!”

Jinwoo, grinning like a maniac, only tightened his grip. Despite the teasing, Yeonwoo recognized the look in Jinwoo’s eyes – one that didn’t need words to say I’m proud of you.

Meanwhile, Junhyuk, still recovering, fixed Haesol with a mock glare. “You planned that, didn’t you?”

She tilted her head slightly, her expression as deadpan as ever. “Maybe,” she said with a shrug.

Junhyuk’s jaw dropped. “You are evil.”

Haesol smirked faintly. “I just hope the baby gets a better first impression of its uncle than this,” she said, gesturing toward Junhyuk’s disheveled appearance.

Junhyuk froze for a moment, his eyes glossing over slightly, before breaking into a big, goofy grin. “You know what? I’m gonna be the best uncle there is.” And with that, he threw his arms around Haesol in an almost comically tight hug.

Yeonwoo felt a lump in his throat as he watched. His best friend and his wife – two of the most important people in his life – nwere getting along as if they’d always been family. Haesol, who had never really had a family of her own, was surrounded by love, and it hit Yeonwoo all at once.

“Okay, group hug!” Nari declared, throwing her arms wide.

Suddenly, everyone was piled into one big, tearful embrace, right in the middle of the bar. Strangers looked on with bemused smiles, but none of them cared.

Yeonwoo wiped at his eyes as he laughed softly. His life had felt perfect when he married Haesol, but somehow, this moment felt like it topped even that.

But, of course, the sappy feelings didn’t last for long.

 Later in the day, the girls disappeared to the bathroom together. Yeonwoo still didn’t understand why girls always did that. Was it a bonding thing? A secret meeting ritual? Some unsolvable mystery of the universe? Whatever the reason, their absence left him alone with Jinwoo and Junhyuk, a situation that could only mean one thing: trouble.

Sure enough, Jinwoo leaned back in his chair, a smirk slowly spreading across his face. “So, Yeonwoo,” he began, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You. A dad. I gotta say, I just can’t picture it.”

Yeonwoo stiffened, already sensing where this was headed.

“I mean,” Jinwoo continued, “you still get mistaken for a college kid all the time. What are you gonna do when the hospital staff thinks you’re Haesol’s younger brother?”

Yeonwoo groaned internally, especially since Jinwoo wasn’t wrong. He was the only one who had been carded earlier when they’d ordered drinks, and the waiter had stared at his ID like it was counterfeit.

“And then there’s your face,” Jinwoo added, gesturing dramatically toward him. “Still as... delicate as ever.” He grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Seriously, do you moisturize, or does Haesol’s skincare routine just rub off on you?”

Yeonwoo pinched the bridge of his nose. “You done yet?”

“Not even close.” Jinwoo wagged a finger. “I’m just saying, it’s hard to imagine you with a baby because you still look like one.”

Before he could retaliate, Junhyuk reached out and smacked Jinwoo on the side of the head. “Would you stop?” he said, rolling his eyes. “Yeonwoo looks way different than he did in high school. And for the record, most people would kill to look younger than they are. You’re just jealous because your hairline’s already receding.”

Jinwoo gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “How dare you? My hairline is thriving, thank you very much!”

As the two devolved into their usual bickering, Yeonwoo leaned back, watching the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and nostalgia. Some things never changed. Even now, well into their twenties, they were the same two idiots he’d grown up with – loud, dramatic, and impossible to separate.

But then Junhyuk’s tone shifted. He straightened up slightly, looking at Yeonwoo with an expression that was almost... serious. “All jokes aside,” he said, “I’m happy for you and Haesol. I really am. But…” He hesitated, his brows furrowing. “I want you to make sure she’s taken care of, okay?”

Confused, Yeonwoo tilted his head. “Of course I will. But it’s still the first trimester – it’s not like there’s anything to worry about right now.”

Junhyuk shook his head. “I’m not talking about now. I’m talking about later. Second trimester, third trimester... You know how she is.”

Yeonwoo frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You know how she is,” Junhyuk repeated, more firmly this time. “She’s tough, yeah, but she doesn’t always ask for help. Half the time, she doesn’t even realize she needs it. Remember back in high school?”

Yeonwoo’s mind flashed back instantly. Their second year. Haesol had gotten soaked during a sudden downpour on one of their dates. She’d brushed it off like it was nothing, refusing to let him walk her home or take her to the nurse the next day. She seemed fine – until she fainted in the middle of gym class, burning up with a fever.

Then there was their junior year of college. Haesol had been volunteering with her club, wearing a mask like everyone else during a community service event. She’d looked a little pale but insisted she was fine – pright up until she threw up in the middle of their gardening session. Turned out she’d had the flu for over a week but hadn’t said a word.

Yeonwoo’s stomach twisted at the memories.

“See what I mean?” He said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “She’s gonna need all the support she can get this time. And you…” His tone softened, but his gaze was firm. “You’re gonna have to toughen up. It’s not gonna be easy.”

Yeonwoo swallowed hard, the weight of Junhyuk’s words sinking in. He was right. Haesol might have been the strongest person he knew, but she wasn’t invincible. And now, she wouldn’t just be looking out for herself –

There was a baby in the picture too.

Right then and there, Yeonwoo made a silent vow. He would be the one watching over Haesol this time. No matter how rough things got, no matter how tired or overwhelmed he felt, he would be there for her every step of the way.

What he didn’t realize – what he couldn’t realize – was just how difficult that promise would be to keep.

One quiet evening, Yeonwoo and Haesol were halfway through their dinner routine, skillfully dodging yet another barrage of calls from his overly concerned parents. Despite their best efforts to explain, every ring was a “just checking in” disguised as subtle micromanagement. Eventually, they managed to escape to the couch, determined to reclaim a shred of peace for the evening.

Haesol had her nose buried in her phone, scrolling with the kind of calm focus that made her look like she was strategizing an international takeover. Meanwhile, Yeonwoo sat beside her, staring at the television with a blank expression. He wasn’t even sure what he was watching. It might’ve been a drama, or maybe it was a cooking show – honestly, it could’ve been static for all he cared. His brain had zoned out, seeking refuge from the day’s chaos, until the couch cushions shifted beneath him.

He turned his head, and his heart skipped a beat. Haesol was slightly hunched over, her hand resting on her stomach as she let out a soft grunt. Though barely audible, the sound sent his internal alarm system into overdrive.

“Haesol?!” he exclaimed, practically launching himself closer to her. His hands hovered uselessly in the air, uncertain where to land. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is it the baby? Should we call someone? Oh my gosh, do I need to –”

“Yeonwoo,” she interrupted, her voice as steady as ever. She straightened up, her resting face slipping effortlessly back into place, utterly unbothered. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s just a little contraction.”

Yeonwoo froze, his hands still twitching nervously in midair. “Contraction?”

“Yeah,” she said casually, already glancing back at her phone. “Totally normal. Nothing to freak out about.”

He knew she was right – he’d read every book and article about pregnancy he could get his hands on – but logic rarely stood a chance against his anxiety. He squinted at her like a doctor performing a critical evaluation, scanning for any sign of hidden distress. Haesol, for her part, looked like she could’ve been waiting in line at the bank, calm and unfazed.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, just to be safe.

She gave him a small nod, her expression softening. Over the years, the sharpness of her features had mellowed; her eyes weren’t as intense, her posture less guarded. Still, she could summon an impenetrable air of indifference whenever she wanted, and this was one of those moments.

“Positive,” she said.

Reluctantly, Yeonwoo sank back into the couch, though he continued to glance at her every few minutes. The TV droned on, now showing a cheesy romance scene where the male lead was heroically carrying the injured female lead in his arms. Yeonwoo barely registered it, his thoughts still half-consumed by worry, until a soft yawn from Haesol pulled him back to the present.

He turned to her. “Tired? Want to head to bed early?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I could use some sleep.”

As she stood up, Yeonwoo fidgeted awkwardly, his hands playing with the hem of his shirt. A thought had lodged itself in his brain – one so ridiculous that he almost didn’t voice it. Almost.

“Uh...” He cleared his throat, gesturing to the TV. “Do you, um, want to try that?”

Haesol paused mid-step, turning to look at him with an arched eyebrow. “What?”

His cheeks burned. “I-I just thought it might be, uh... nice? You know, since you’re pregnant and all. Romantic, maybe?”

She stared at him, her face unreadable. He felt the heat rise to his ears, and he started to stammer an apology, convinced he’d just embarrassed himself beyond redemption. But then, to his surprise, her lips curled into a small, amused smile.

“Sure,” she said.

Yeonwoo’s heart soared. He mentally patted himself on the back, congratulating himself for being the world’s best husband. He stepped toward her, determined to lift her gently, carefully, like the fragile treasure she was.

But before he could even position his arms, Haesol moved faster.

In one smooth motion, she leaned down, wrapped her arms around him, and effortlessly hoisted him off the ground in a perfect bridal carry.

“W-WHAT?!” Yeonwoo yelped, flailing his arms like a panicked cat. “Haesol! Put me down! You shouldn’t overexert yourself like this. What are you doing?!”

She tilted her head slightly, her expression as calm as ever. “Carrying you to bed. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“NOT LIKE THIS!” he sputtered, his face glowing red. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to work!”

Haesol shrugged, adjusting her grip as if he weighed nothing. “It’s been a while since I carried you like this,” she said, her voice almost playful. “It keeps my arms strong, don’t you think?”

Damn it, it does. “How does this help you or the baby?!” he demanded, his voice cracking with disbelief.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, her small smile softening into something more tender. “It helps me because I like messing with you.”

Yeonwoo’s brain short-circuited. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. All he could do was blush furiously as she carried him down the hallway, her steps steady and deliberate.

When they reached the bedroom, she finally set him down, her hands resting on her hips as she smirked at his flustered state. “Are you alright?”

He crossed his arms, still blushing furiously. “That was a bust,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” he admitted begrudgingly, looking away to hide his embarrassment.

Haesol chuckled softly, her smile growing. “Ok.”

As he climbed into bed, he couldn’t stop the heat from creeping up his neck. Sure, the whole plan had backfired spectacularly, but... her smile and that kiss on the forehead? Maybe it wasn’t such a bad night after all.

Yeonwoo prided himself on being a thoughtful husband, but Haesol’s pregnancy was throwing him for a loop.

Sure, her cravings hadn’t been as bizarre as he’d prepared for – no mid-afternoon runs for sardines dipped in chocolate or anything like that – but there had been… moments. Like the time she methodically sprinkled so much salt over her chocolate ice cream that it looked more like a chemistry experiment than a dessert. Or when she casually added pickles to her peanut butter sandwiches, chomping away as if it were completely normal.

For the most part, though, her diet was eerily similar to how she always ate: an alarming quantity of sugary snacks and heaps of grilled meats. Yeonwoo had been more than happy to step up as her personal chef, grilling steaks just the way she liked them and baking cookies that she devoured faster than he could cool them. But after a while, he couldn’t help but feel like that was the only thing he was contributing.

Haesol had always been so effortlessly self-sufficient. She carried herself with an ease that sometimes made him feel like a bumbling teenager in comparison. She’s never leaned on him much, not even now, and while he admired her strength, it left him feeling… more than a little useless.

He tried not to dwell on it, but moments like this morning kept replaying in his mind. Over breakfast, Haesol had casually mentioned that she’d gotten out of bed in the middle of the night to throw up. She said it so offhandedly, as though she were talking about the weather, while Yeonwoo sat there with a piece of half-eaten bacon dangling from his fingers.

“You got up at one in the morning?” he’d blurted, stunned.

“Mhm,” she’d replied, sipping her tea as if it were no big deal.

“And you… threw up?”

“Yes.”

Yeonwoo could only stare, flabbergasted. How could he expect to handle their future child’s cries in the dead of night if he couldn’t even hear his wife throwing up in the bathroom?

The growing guilt gnawed at him until one evening, after an unusually long phone call with his dad, Yeonwoo finally cracked. His father had listened patiently as he rambled on about his worries before offering a simple, solemn piece of advice.

“I did as much research as I could when your mom was pregnant,” his dad had said, his tone heavy with memory.

Yeonwoo immediately felt like a child whining about a paper cut. His mom had risked so much to have him, enduring loss after devastating loss before finally carrying him to term. The thought of his father standing by her side through all of that made Yeonwoo feel both awe and guilt. If his dad could handle something so heartbreaking, surely Yeonwoo could manage this.

Determined, he spent the next week scouring every article, guide, and forum he could find on supporting a pregnant wife. He bookmarked tips on massages, bookmarked recipes rich in nutrients, and even studied relaxation techniques for labor. But one tip in particular caught his eye: being the big spoon could help relieve pressure on the lower back.

There was just one tiny problem.

Yeonwoo was never the big spoon.

It wasn’t his fault, exactly. Even though he’d grown taller over the years, Haesol always preferred to cuddle him. She liked wrapping herself around him like an oversized octopus, claiming it was “more efficient.” But this time, Yeonwoo was determined to flip the dynamic.

That night, he waited until she was asleep – or so he thought.

The clock on the kitchen wall ticked past midnight, and Yeonwoo stifled his thirtieth yawn of the night. His plan required patience but staying up this late was pure torture. When he finally mustered the courage to check, he tiptoed into their bedroom, squinting in the dim light. The room was quiet, the soft hum of the ceiling fan blending with Haesol’s steady breathing. She was already lying on her side, facing the wall, her long hair fanned out over her pillow.

Perfect.

Yeonwoo grinned and fist-pumped silently. This was it. This was his moment. He slid into bed as stealthily as he could manage, the mattress barely dipping under his weight. Slowly, carefully, he wrapped his arm around her waist, resting his chin near her shoulder.

Yes! Mission accomplished!

For a brief, shining moment, Yeonwoo basked in his victory. He was the big spoon! He was doing it! He was –

Suddenly, the world flipped upside down.

Before Yeonwoo could blink, Haesol had turned the tables – literally. With one fluid motion, she’d rolled him onto his side and pulled him into her arms, resuming their usual positions without so much as a pause.

“W-What are you doing?!” Yeonwoo stammered, his face buried against her chest.

“Waiting for you,” Haesol replied casually, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

“You were awake?!” he blurted, flailing slightly in her grip.

“Mhm,” she said, tightening her arms around him. “Figured you’d get here eventually.”

 Yeonwoo gawked at her, too stunned to argue. “But – wait – I was trying to – ”

Before he could finish his sentence, a soft sound cut him off. Haesol’s breathing had already evened out, her grip relaxing just enough to let him know she was asleep.

Yeonwoo let out a defeated sigh, his face burning as he lay there, enveloped in her warmth. His grand plan had failed spectacularly, but as he listened to the steady rhythm of her breathing, he couldn’t help but smile.

Being the little spoon never hurt anyone, after all.

Sometime down the line, the idea of finding a new house crept into the young couple’s minds. No one had outright said they needed to move, but a few small comments from their friends planted the seed.

“I mean, you guys could fit a crib in your room, but it might get cramped pretty fast,” Nari had pointed out one evening, sipping her coffee.

Jinwoo, ever the jokester, had chimed in, “You don’t want the kid growing up thinking the living room is their playpen.”

Even Yeonwoo’s dad chuckled during a dinner visit. “I remember when your mom and I had you in that tiny apartment. Let’s just say space becomes a luxury real quick.”

At first, Yeonwoo and Haesol brushed the idea off. Their apartment had been perfect for the two of them – spacious but cozy, with large windows that let in streams of golden sunlight every morning. They’d lived there for three years, building their little routines and filling the walls with memories. But now, with a baby on the way, they started to see the place differently. The once-perfect two-bedroom apartment suddenly felt like it might not accommodate three.

Haesol’s steady income as a sales representative had been a blessing for their savings, and Yeonwoo, who had recently started babysitting for extra cash, was surprised at how well it paid. After a few months of searching, they found it: a beautiful two-story house tucked in a quiet suburban neighborhood.

The house was picturesque – a modest yet charming design with cream-colored walls, navy-blue shutters, and a red brick path leading to the front door. A wraparound porch framed the entrance, complete with a cozy swing that Yeonwoo immediately envisioned sitting on during breezy summer evenings.

Inside, the space opened into a warm living room with a vaulted ceiling and a stone fireplace. The kitchen had granite countertops, modern appliances, and a quaint breakfast nook framed by bay windows. Upstairs were three bedrooms, one of which would become the baby’s nursery. The backyard was perfect, too – just big enough for a small garden and maybe a swing set someday.

When moving day arrived, their friends and Yeonwoo’s parents were heavily involved. And as they quickly learned, nothing reveals the sheer amount of stuff you own quite like packing it all into boxes. The apartment seemed to produce an endless supply of belongings – clothes, books, kitchenware, and sentimental trinkets they didn’t even remember owning.

Haesol, now visibly pregnant, was the last person Yeonwoo wanted overexerting herself. He practically marched her to a foldable chair he had set up in the middle of the chaos, placing a bottle of water in her hand like a soldier delivering orders.

“Don’t move, please.” he said firmly.

She arched an eyebrow, her expression unreadable as always, but to his relief, she didn’t argue.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group got to work. Yeonwoo’s dad and Junhyuk hauled boxes into the house while Jinwoo insisted on “directing traffic” from the moving truck, though everyone knew he just wanted to avoid heavy lifting. Nari and Yeseul unpacked and organized with the efficiency of seasoned professionals, teasing Jinwoo whenever he tried to sneak off.

“Jinwoo, do you even know what a box cutter is?” Yeseul taunted.

Junhyuk snorted from the hallway. “Careful, you’ll make him cry.”

“Ha-ha,” Jinwoo deadpanned. “Keep talking, and I’ll supervise even harder.”

The banter lightened the atmosphere, though Yeonwoo couldn’t help sneaking glances at Haesol. She looked mildly annoyed sitting on the sidelines, but she stayed put, much to his relief.

By mid-afternoon, the moving process was in full swing. At one point, Junhyuk climbed a ladder to replace a lightbulb in one of the ceiling fixtures while Yeonwoo held the ladder steady.

“Almost there,” Junhyuk muttered, squinting as he twisted the bulb into place.

But just as he reached for another adjustment, the bulb slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor.

“Crap!” Yeonwoo instinctively let go of the ladder to pick up the pieces.

“Yeonwoo, wait –” Junhyuk’s warning came too late. The ladder wobbled precariously before toppling sideways.

In a split second, Haesol was on her feet, sprinting towards him. One arm shot out to push Yeonwoo backward while the other caught the ladder mid-fall, her hand bracing it with shocking strength.

The room went silent for a beat before everyone rushed to her side.

“Haesol, are you okay?” Nari asked, wide-eyed.

Junhyuk, who had managed to land on his feet, pointed an accusing finger at her. “What were you thinking?! You’re carrying a baby! You shouldn’t be catching ladders like some kind of ninja!”

Even Yeonwoo found himself joining the chorus of gentle scoldings, though his voice wavered with lingering shock. “You didn’t have to jump in like that! What if you got hurt?”

Haesol tilted her head, her tone calm and matter of fact. “You can’t expect me to just sit there and watch you get hurt.”

Her nonchalant response left Yeonwoo speechless, but the rest of the group burst into laughter.

“She hasn’t changed a bit,” His dad chuckled, shaking his head.

Later that night, as they unpacked the last of their things, Yeonwoo couldn’t shake the scene from his mind. Haesol had always been strong – physically, mentally, emotionally – but her quick reflexes and unwavering determination left him in awe yet again.

He sighed, glancing at her as she calmly folded clothes in their new bedroom. How could he ever match up to someone like her? Would his current level of effort be enough for the baby? For her?

As much as he wanted to believe it would be, doubt crept into his thoughts. But one thing he knew for sure: he’d do everything in his power to try.

As the months passed, Yeonwoo resigned himself to his inevitable fate.

Haesol was handling this pregnancy with the same grace and composure she brought to everything else in her life. While other expectant mothers he’d read about described mood swings, cravings, and bouts of frustration, Haesol seemed almost…unbothered. Her demeanor hadn’t changed much, aside from her ever-growing belly and the occasional wince from the baby’s particularly strong kicks.

Yeonwoo wasn’t sure why this still surprised him. Haesol had always been exceptional – stoic, capable, and resilient in ways he could only admire from the sidelines. He sighed wistfully to himself more often these days, marveling at his wife. She made everything look so easy, and if doing all the little things for her – like preparing meals, rubbing her feet, or fluffing her pillows – made her life even a fraction easier, then he was happy to do them.

With only a month left until the baby was born, life felt picture-perfect. Their beautiful new house was beginning to feel like home, their support system of family and friends was unshakable, and their relationship had grown even stronger through the anticipation of parenthood. Every doctor’s appointment brought good news, and the nursery, with its pastel-colored walls and neatly arranged furniture, was ready and waiting.

Yeonwoo couldn’t complain about much these days. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this content.

One day, he had planned to swing by the grocery store after finishing his babysitting gig. But when the parents canceled at the last minute, he decided to spend the day with Junhyuk and Nari instead. They had lunch at a casual restaurant downtown, talking and laughing as the afternoon slipped away.

Somewhere between Junhyuk’s teasing and Nari’s endless anecdotes, Yeonwoo lost track of time. His heart sank when he glanced at his phone and realized how late it had gotten. With a sheepish grin, he threw some cash on the table to cover his share of the bill and bolted.

“I’m going to hear about this later,” he muttered to himself as he jumped into his car, speeding off to the grocery store.

By the time he arrived home, the sky was painted in soft hues of orange and pink, the sun dipping below the horizon. Yeonwoo juggled the grocery bags in one hand as he unlocked the front door, calling out as he stepped inside.

“Haesol? I’m back!”

The house was quiet. Not the kind of quiet that meant peace, but the kind that felt…off.

He set the bags down in the kitchen and wandered through the house, checking each room. The bathroom was empty. The couch in the living room was undisturbed. She wasn’t in the kitchen or the small study either. Maybe she’s resting, he thought, climbing the stairs.

He reached their bedroom door, a small smile tugging at his lips as he pushed it open. “Haesol, I’m home –”

The words caught in his throat.

She was sitting on the bed, her back pressed against the wall, her arms wrapped loosely around her legs. The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows across the room.

“Haesol?” he called again, his voice tinged with confusion.

She flinched at the sound of his voice, her body jolting slightly as if she hadn’t heard him come in. Slowly, she turned to face him, and Yeonwoo’s heart sank.

Her face was as calm and unreadable as always, but her eyes… Her eyes told a completely different story. Tears welled up, threatening to spill over her cheeks, and she blinked quickly as though trying to erase them.

“Yeonwoo,” she said, her voice quiet and unsteady. She quickly wiped her eyes, almost as if she were embarrassed by her own tears. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

She laughed softly, the sound hollow and awkward, like she was trying to convince herself that everything was fine.

But Yeonwoo couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. His chest tightened as he stood there, frozen by the sight of the strongest person he knew crumbling in front of him. And for the first time in months, he felt the unsettling pang of something he hadn’t experienced in a while. Fear.

Yeonwoo nearly tripped over his own feet as he rushed toward Haesol, practically vaulting over the bed to get to her. His hands hovered helplessly in the air, unsure where to land or how to help. His heart raced as if trying to match the speed of his frantic thoughts.

“Are you okay? Is it the baby? Did something happen while I was out? Why didn’t you call me? Should we go to the hospital? Tell me, Haesol, please – what’s going on?”

Each question came out faster than the last, his voice rising in both pitch and volume. His eyes scanned her face, her hands, her body, searching for any visible sign of distress.

“Yeonwoo –” Haesol began, her voice calm but soft, a sharp contrast to his panic.

“Do you feel sick? Did you fall? Did you eat enough? You said the doctor said everything was fine, right? Is it not fine? Are you in pain? I –”

“Yeonwoo.” She raised a finger and pressed it lightly to his lips, silencing him.

His words stopped abruptly, but the worry etched into his face didn’t fade. He felt her finger tremble slightly against his mouth, and that only made his chest tighten further.

“I’m fine,” Haesol said firmly, her voice steady despite the glimmer of tears still lingering in her eyes. “The baby is fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“But…” Yeonwoo hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Then what’s wrong? Why are you –”

“Nothing,” Haesol interrupted, brushing her hands over her cheeks again, as if she could scrub away any evidence of her tears. “It’s nothing, Yeonwoo. Really.”

Yeonwoo’s stomach churned at her tone. He hated this. He hated how easily she could bury her emotions, her face going blank like she was flipping a switch. It was a skill she’d always had, one that had both amazed and unnerved him.

Moments like this always reminded him of how different they were. Yeonwoo wore his heart on his sleeve, for better or worse. Hiding his feelings always ended in disaster, and – though Haesol was much better at it – he knew her attempts at bottling things up often led to the same result.

He sat down beside her on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate as if approaching a skittish animal. “Haesol, come on,” he said gently. “You can talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Yeonwoo, it’s not a big deal,” she replied, waving a dismissive hand. Her tone was casual, but her words were clipped, too smooth. “Just pregnancy hormones. Nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious?” Yeonwoo repeated, his disbelief evident. “You were crying. That’s not ‘nothing,’ Haesol.”

She shook her head, a faint trace of irritation creeping into her expression. “It happens. You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t,” he admitted, his voice softening. “But I still want to help. Was it something specific? Did something happen today?”

Haesol glanced away, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeonwoo, I told you – it’s just hormones.”

He exhaled slowly, fighting the rising frustration bubbling in his chest. Her nonchalant tone, the way she refused to meet his eyes, it all gnawed at him.

“Please,” he urged, his voice quieter now. “If it’s not serious, why can’t you just tell me? Why do you have to brush it off like this?”

Haesol’s jaw tightened, and she shifted as if to get up from the bed. Yeonwoo panicked, his hand darting out to gently grab her arm.

“Can you wait a second?”

Her irritation was palpable now, her gaze sharp as it flicked back to him. But she didn’t pull away. She could have – he knew how strong she was. If she wanted to leave, he wouldn’t have been able to stop her.

Instead, she pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply through her teeth. “Yeonwoo,” she said, her tone strained. “It’s just one of those days, okay? I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just…let it go.”

But Yeonwoo couldn’t. Not when he could still see the faint redness in her eyes, the way her shoulders were just a little too tense.

“Was it something someone said?” he asked, trying again. “Or maybe…something you were thinking about? Did you see something on TV –”

“Yeonwoo, stop,” she snapped, her voice finally cracking with irritation.

He flinched but didn’t let go of her arm. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I know,” she muttered, rubbing her temple. “I know you are. But it’s not something you can fix, okay?”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me.” he pressed. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Haesol hesitated, her eyes darting to the floor. For a moment, Yeonwoo thought she might actually answer him. But when she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, almost reluctant.

“It’s nothing, really. I was just…thinking about something me and Jinwoo talked about.”

Yeonwoo froze. A chilling realization beginning to dawn on him.

“…Jinwoo?” he repeated, his tone low, measured. But he could feel the familiar heat of anger rising in his chest, a sensation he hadn’t felt in years.

His hand slipped from her arm as he leaned back slightly, his gaze sharpening. His voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the tension behind it.

“Jung… Jinwoo,” he said again, the name leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Yeonwoo’s thoughts spiraled into the past, unbidden and unwelcome. Memories of Jinwoo flooded his mind – the sharp grin, the easy confidence, the unshakable flamboyance that seemed to light up any room he entered. Back then, Yeonwoo had always felt like a shadow in Jinwoo’s presence, especially when Haesol had confided in him about things she never shared with Yeonwoo.

Jinwoo had been there for her during some of the toughest times in her life. Yeonwoo hated himself for how much it used to bother him – the jealousy that had simmered in his chest, the frustration of feeling second place in her heart. And even now, years later, he could feel the embers of that envy reigniting, no matter how hard he tried to stamp them out.

He had promised himself – sworn – that he would never let himself feel this way again. They were older now. Wiser. Jinwoo’s crush on Haesol had to be ancient history, just a footnote in their shared story. Yet somehow, the thought of Haesol talking to Jinwoo about their child instead of him was like salt in a wound he thought had healed.

Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out, biting and sharp.

“Well, I guess it’s easier to talk to Jinwoo about your problems instead of your partner. Again.”

Haesol froze, her previous calmness evaporating in an instant. Slowly, she turned her gaze to him, her eyes narrowing.

“…Excuse me?” she said, her tone low and dangerous.

Yeonwoo’s brain screamed at him to stop, to backpedal, but the frustration boiling inside him wouldn’t let him. All he could think about was Jinwoo’s voice when he had found out about the pregnancy just a few weeks ago – “What are you gonna do when the hospital staff thinks you’re Haesol’s younger brother?” The memory made his fists clench.

“I thought we were past this,” he muttered, his jaw tight.

“Past what, Yeonwoo?” Haesol’s voice was sharper now, each word cutting into the thick tension between them. “Past me having conversations with my friends? Am I not allowed to talk to my friends about my problems?”

“It’s not about that, and you know it!” Yeonwoo snapped, his voice rising. “You’re not required to tell me everything, fine, but talking to Jinwoo about our baby instead of me? That’s something else entirely.”

Haesol crossed her arms, her brow arching in a way that sent a fresh wave of irritation through him. “First of all, Jinwoo wasn’t even part of this conversation until you brought him up. Second, I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t worth mentioning.” She rolled her eyes, a gesture so casual it felt like a slap in the face.

Yeonwoo’s chest tightened as his anger spiked. “You think this is nothing?” he asked, his voice trembling. “You really think it’s fine to keep me in the dark while you – while you go to him?”

“You’re overreacting,” Haesol said, her voice calm again, but her words felt like gasoline on his fire. “I don’t know what you think is going on, but I can promise you it’s not what you’re imagining. And frankly, I’m offended you’d even think that.”

She moved to walk past him, her steps deliberate, dismissive. Yeonwoo could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, his every nerve screaming for him to stop her.

He stood abruptly, his voice coming out louder than he intended. “And I’m offended that you think I’m accusing you of cheating!”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and suffocating.

Haesol stopped in her tracks and turned slowly to face him. Her expression was unreadable, her features schooled into a neutral calm that only infuriated Yeonwoo further.

They stood there, the silence crackling with unspoken tension.

Her gaze locked in his, unyielding, and for a moment, neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. It was a battle of wills, each waiting for the other to make the next move, to say the next word.

And in the stillness, Yeonwoo felt the weight of his own emotions bearing down on him. The anger, the frustration, the fear of losing the woman he loved. He clenched his fists at his sides, his mind racing as he stared into her unwavering eyes, wondering how the hell they had ended up here.

Yeonwoo inhaled deeply, steadying himself. He could feel the tremor in his chest, the whirlwind of emotions threatening to pull him under. “Haesol,” he began, his voice low but steady, “you can’t expect me not to worry about my wife when I see her crying like this. Especially when it’s you. You’re not a regular crier. You haven’t cried this entire…”

As he spoke, something clicked in his mind – an unsettling realization that he could no longer ignore. His words faltered as the pieces began to connect. His thoughts turned to the nights he hadn’t woken up to the sound of her vomiting, the mornings when he assumed everything was fine.

His breath hitched. “Has this happened before when I haven’t been home? Is this… the first time?”

Haesol’s expression shifted, her lips parting as if to say something, but Yeonwoo cut her off, his voice sharper now. “Is it?”

She hesitated, her gaze steady yet guarded. For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t answer, but then she sighed, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly. “No,” she admitted softly. “But this only started a few weeks ago.”

The admission hit Yeonwoo like a freight train. His thoughts reeled, the guilt pressing down on him like a lead weight. He tried to form a coherent thought, but his words came out more like a demand than a question. “Has Jinwoo been the only person you’ve been talking to about this?”

Her eyes flickered with irritation, the violet hue darkening as she set her jaw. “Why are you so hung up on Jinwoo?” she snapped, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “You wouldn’t be this upset if I talked to Nari or Yeseul.”

Yeonwoo froze. She was right, and he knew it. He wouldn’t have cared nearly as much if it had been Nari or Yeseul. But it wasn’t because they were women. It was something deeper, something more complicated than petty jealousy.

His thoughts drifted to Nari, her infectious laughter, her easy way of comforting Haesol during their darkest moments. There had been a time – long ago – when he’d felt the sting of envy toward Nari, not because of some childish crush but because she could provide a kind of solace he never could. Nari had been Haesol’s anchor, the person who could always make her feel understood. He had never resented her for it.

He thought of how Haesol had once confided her own envy toward Junhyuk, who had been the same for him – a shoulder to lean on, someone who seemed to understand Yeonwoo’s struggles in ways Haesol sometimes couldn’t. This wasn’t about romance. It never had been.

But Jinwoo… Jinwoo complicated things. Jinwoo, who had once harbored feelings for Haesol, was a different story entirely.

Yeonwoo’s voice softened, the edges of his anger blunting. “I get it,” he said finally. “I know your connection to Jinwoo is built on what you’ve both been through. The family issues, the pain… I understand that. I really do. But when it comes to our child – ” his voice cracked slightly, and he hated it –  “going to him instead of me feels like a stab in the dark.”

He could feel the tears threatening to spill and clenched his fists, willing them to stay back. He hated this. Hated the argument, hated the way his voice betrayed him, hated how everything felt so raw and exposed. Maybe he should’ve just let it go. Maybe they didn’t need to have this fight at all.

Quickly, he swiped at his eyes and looked back up at her. His voice dropped to a near whisper, the words trembling with a vulnerability he couldn’t hide. “I just… I just want to help you.”

For a moment, the room was silent. Haesol’s expression softened, her eyes reflecting a mix of shock and guilt as she looked at him. Neither of them moved, the weight of the moment pressing down on them both.

Finally, Yeonwoo sank back down onto the bed, his head hanging low. His thoughts churned, berating himself for losing control. Her health comes first, he told himself firmly. Not my pride, not my insecurities.

He exhaled shakily and began to speak, his voice uneven. “I’m sorry. I –”

“Stop.”

A single word was murmured, but it was enough to cut through his apology like a knife.

He looked up, confused. “What?”

She repeated herself, her voice steadier now. “It wasn’t –” She paused. “Jinwoo isn’t the one I’ve been talking to.”

Yeonwoo blinked, his mind scrambling to make sense of her words. “Then who?”

Haesol’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes flickered to the side before meeting his gaze again.

“It’s… Jinwoo’s mother,” she said quietly.

The words hung in the air, leaving Yeonwoo stunned, his thoughts spinning as he tried to process what she had just said.

Yeonwoo sat frozen, her words replaying in his mind. Jinwoo’s mother? His gaze flickered away from Haesol momentarily, his thoughts a chaotic jumble. He knew she wasn’t joking – her tone, her body language, the way her hand gently caressed her growing stomach – it all told him she was serious. But why Jinwoo’s mother? Why not someone closer, someone he would have expected?

His thoughts raced as he struggled to connect the dots. When his eyes found hers again, he noticed the way Haesol’s gaze had softened, her focus entirely on their child. Her fingers traced faint circles over her bump, her expression both tender and distant.

“She’s the one I’ve been talking to,” Haesol murmured. “Jinwoo’s mother. While Jinwoo may have been involved… most of it was with her.”

Yeonwoo blinked, still thoroughly lost. It wasn’t as though he held anything against the woman. Jinwoo’s mother was incredible – a strong, resilient single parent who had raised her only son after her husband’s tragic passing. But Haesol? Haesol wasn’t particularly close to her… At least, that’s what Yeonwoo had always thought.

The question tumbled out before he could stop it. “What for?” He hesitated, then backtracked. “I mean, is it for something like… advice?”

Haesol’s gaze shifted to the side, her eyes distant. Her voice became quiet, almost hesitant. “…Something like that.”

Before Yeonwoo could respond, she moved toward him, each step slow and deliberate, as if she were bracing herself. She lowered herself onto the bed beside him, the mattress dipping ever so slightly under her weight. Their hands found each other almost instinctively, their fingers interlocking the moment they were close enough. The magnetic pull between them was undeniable.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, it felt as though the tension melted away. Simultaneously, they spoke, their voices overlapping in a soft apology.

“I’m sorry,” they said in unison.

Yeonwoo shook his head, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. “You already have enough on your plate,” he said, his voice thick with guilt. “The last thing you need is to deal with my whining.”

Haesol responded immediately, her voice firm yet gentle. “Don’t say that. I love how much you care. It’s one of the things I love most about you. I couldn’t be happier with us, Yeonwoo.” Her thumb brushed over the back of his hand. “I just… I felt bad for keeping things from you. I really did. But I needed to talk to someone who could actually understand.”

He paused, mulling over her words. As much as it stung, he couldn’t deny that it made sense. A woman who had been through motherhood, who had faced the trials and tribulations of pregnancy and child-rearing, would naturally know more than he – or anyone in their immediate circle – ever could.

His mind drifted, unbidden, to the difficulties Haesol must have faced, the ones he hadn’t been able to fully comprehend: the relentless nausea that had stolen her energy in the early months, the aches and pains that came with carrying another life, the sleepless nights, the emotional highs and lows that even she couldn’t always explain.

He realized just how inadequate he must have seemed at times, his well-meaning but clumsy attempts to comfort her falling short of what she truly needed.

Without a word, he pulled her into an embrace, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on her bump. Haesol melted into his arms, resting her head against his chest. He felt her lips press gently to his forehead, a tender gesture that sent warmth coursing through him.

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, the weight of their earlier argument dissipating into the stillness of the room.

Eventually, Yeonwoo broke the quiet, his voice hesitant. “Can I ask you something else?”

Haesol hummed in response, her head still resting against him.

He hesitated, his words catching in his throat. “Why didn’t you… go to my mom?”

He felt her stiffen slightly in his arms, and the silence that followed was heavy, charged with an unspoken tension. Slowly, she pulled away, and when Yeonwoo looked at her, his breath caught in his throat.

Her eyes – usually so warm and vibrant – looked hollow, darkened by something he couldn’t quite place.

Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but it carried a weight that made his stomach drop. “Because someone like her can’t help me.”

The words hit Yeonwoo like a physical blow. Horror and confusion collided in his chest, leaving him speechless as he stared at her, his mind racing to understand what she meant. The emptiness in her eyes sent a shiver down his spine, and for the first time that night, Yeonwoo found himself truly afraid.

Yeonwoo blinked, his vision blurred by tears he hadn’t even realized were forming. The lump in his throat grew unbearable as Haesol’s words echoed in his mind. She couldn’t mean what he thought she did… could she?

“H-Haesol,” he stammered, his voice trembling under the weight of his emotions. “Is… is it because her body wasn’t –?” He blinked rapidly, his tears breaking free. “Because she was… barren?” His voice cracked on the word, and he hated himself for saying it aloud.

The bad thoughts, the ones he had fought so hard to keep at bay, began clawing their way to the forefront of his mind. Is that what Haesol’s afraid of? he thought, his heart pounding in his chest. Is she scared of losing the baby? Is that what’s been bothering her all this time? The image of his mother’s quiet pain, the strength she had carried through her losses, only deepened his dread.

Tears streaming, Yeonwoo’s voice broke as he choked out, “Is… is there something wrong with the baby? Have you been keeping something from me?”

Haesol blinked at him, dazed, before her eyes widened in a comical flash of panic. “No!” she blurted, her voice sharp with urgency. She caught herself, softening as she added, “No, Yeonwoo, the baby’s fine. My body is fine.”

Relief washed over him like a cold tide, though it was short-lived. Yeonwoo surged forward, his hands gripping her shoulders tightly. “Then what is it?!” he pleaded, his voice raw with desperation. “Please, just tell me! Or – or at least call the doctor if you don’t want to talk to me. Just –” His words faltered as he noticed her tense under his touch.

Seconds ticked by, and then minutes, each one agonizingly slow as Haesol kept her gaze fixed anywhere but on him. Her silence felt like a weight pressing on his chest, each moment feeding his growing panic.

At last, her voice broke the stillness, trembling and low. “I’m the problem.”

Yeonwoo froze, his grip loosening as her words sank in. “What do you mean?” he whispered.

Haesol finally met his eyes, her expression clouded with self-doubt. “I’m afraid… of what I’ll be like after the baby arrives,” she admitted. Her gaze dropped again, her voice barely above a whisper. “It just feels… unfair. Unfair to go to someone who’s suffered so much, just to ask for advice about something I’m terrified I’ll fail at.”

Yeonwoo’s mind raced. That’s normal, isn’t it? he thought, remembering the countless articles he’d read in his attempt to be prepared. Insecurities were a common part of pregnancy, especially for first-time mothers. And now, in their last trimester, those worries were likely amplified tenfold.

He inhaled deeply, letting out an awkward laugh in an attempt to lighten the tension. “Haesol,” he began, his voice still shaky but warm, “you know my mom wouldn’t see it that way, right? She adores you – more than anything. She’d listen. She’d understand. You don’t have to worry about seeming… I don’t know, insensitive.”

She didn’t respond.

Yeonwoo could feel her body growing taut beneath his fingertips. The tension was palpable, but he pressed on, determined to reassure her.

“You’re going to be a great mom,” he said firmly, his voice softening with every word. “I know it. And I’ll be there to help you every step of the way, okay? You’re not alone in this.”

For a moment, he thought he saw her relax, but before he could finish, Haesol abruptly jerked out of his grip.

“You don’t know that!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the room like a blade.

The uncharacteristic outburst made Yeonwoo flinch. His body jolted backward, his hands falling to his sides.

He stared at her in stunned silence. The Haesol he knew, calm and composed, was gone, replaced by someone he barely recognized. Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, and that’s when he saw it – the tears glistening in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

Her face was raw with emotion: anger, fear, and an overwhelming sadness that made Yeonwoo’s heart ache. He couldn’t look away, even as her words hung in the air, heavy and unresolved.

"You don’t know that!" Haesol’s voice cracked, trembling with raw emotion that Yeonwoo rarely saw. "You don’t know what it’s like to be me, Yeonwoo! And neither does your mom!" Her hand shot out, gesturing sharply, as if pointing to some invisible judge. "You two can’t just say things like that to me – like it’s easy, like it’s normal! You’ve always had everything you needed to make a family."

The words stung, not because they were cruel, but because they came from somewhere deep within her, a place even he hadn’t been able to reach.

Yeonwoo swallowed hard, feeling his body tense. Haesol wasn’t yelling to hurt him, she was spilling everything she’d been holding in for months. He hated seeing her like this – frustrated, angry, bitter – but a part of him was grateful. She was talking. That was better than nothing.

Whatever storm raged inside her, he would sit through it. If this was the only way for her to let it out, he’d take it.

So, he stayed silent, shaken but unmoving, watching as Haesol’s emotions spilled out in waves.

"Don’t misunderstand," she continued, her voice softer but laced with sharp edges, "I do feel bad for what your mom went through. Of course, I do. But that doesn’t change the fact that she actually wanted you, Yeonwoo. She wanted to be a mom so badly that she kept trying, no matter how many times it broke her."

Yeonwoo’s breath hitched. He couldn’t argue with that. His mom had wanted a child more than anything in the world. He’d grown up knowing it, hearing it, feeling it. The whispers of how lucky he was to exist were like a mantra repeated by his relatives.

“Your mother almost died to have you, Yeonwoo,” they’d say. “You should be grateful. You’re a miracle.”

He’d hated hearing that, hated how it made his very existence feel like a debt he could never repay. But Haesol’s words yanked him back to the present.

"I was so naïve. I didn’t even start thinking about any of this until a few months ago," she said, her voice dropping into something closer to vulnerability. "When I went out with Yeseul, Nari, and Jinwoo…"

Yeonwoo frowned, his mind sifting through fragments of that night. She’d gone out with the group while he stayed home. She’d come back late, quiet but seemingly fine. He’d assumed it had been just another night of drinks and casual conversation.

"I was talking to Jinwoo outside," she explained, "Just about life and about the baby. Then he mentioned something about his mom."

Her hand brushed the hair out of her face, and Yeonwoo could see the exhaustion etched into her features.

"What did he say?" Yeonwoo asked quietly, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Haesol hesitated, her gaze distant. "He said his mom never really wanted kids."

Yeonwoo blinked in disbelief. "Jinwoo said that?"

She nodded, her tone flat. "Yeah. I didn’t know how to respond at first. I mean, she seems like the perfect doting mother now, but I guess people can change."

Yeonwoo stayed quiet, unsure how to process this revelation. Jinwoo’s mother was always warm and affectionate, the kind of person who treated everyone like family. He wondered if Jinwoo had just mentioned it to fill the silence, never realizing how much it would stick with Haesol.

But then, it was always hard to tell what would linger in Haesol’s mind.

She continued, her voice growing shakier. "Jinwoo’s the one who got me talking to his mom. He thought it might help."

Her hands clenched into fists as she spoke. "She told me about how hard it was for her at first. About how she struggled to feel connected to Jinwoo when he was a baby. And… some of the things she said reminded me of my –” She pauses.

Yeonwoo’s heart nearly stopped. Her mother.

The mention of that woman was like a thunderclap in the room, sending a chill down his spine. He instinctively straightened, his body on high alert, even though he knew better than to say anything yet.

Her family was a subject neither of them liked to touch, a deep, dark well of pain that seemed bottomless. It had taken two years – two long years – for Yeonwoo and Nari to convince Haesol to even consider therapy for it. And what little Yeonwoo knew about her childhood was enough to make his stomach churn.

Her father had been a tyrant, forcing her mother into marriage and exploiting Haesol as a child model to feed his greed. He was easy to hate. But her mom…

That was a messier wound.

Her mother hadn’t protected her, hadn’t fought for her the way a mother should. But she wasn’t cruel like her father, either. At least, not in the same way. Her actions – or lack thereof – were more insidious, the kind of neglect that left scars invisible to the naked eye. With her disgusting husband out of the picture, she blamed Haesol – a child – for her pain,

Yeonwoo’s chest tightened as he watched Haesol’s hands tremble, her voice thick with a mix of anger and anguish.

It took everything in him not to reach out and pull her into his arms. But he knew better. She wasn’t done yet.

And whatever she had to say, he would listen.

Haesol’s voice softened but still carried the weight of her emotions. “I’ve heard of postpartum. I know the gist of it.” she admitted, rubbing at her arms as though trying to brush away the chill in the air – or perhaps within herself. “But as stupid as it sounds… I didn’t think it was something that affected ‘happy’ people.”

Yeonwoo tilted his head, letting her words settle in the room. He didn’t respond immediately, just nodding silently, because he understood exactly what she meant.

At one point, he’d believed the same thing. Not postpartum, exactly, but love as a whole.

That was his childish logic – the kind of naïve thinking that came from growing up surrounded by love and warmth. To him, every parent naturally loved their children. It was supposed to be easy, instinctual. Parents were supposed to fall into their roles like his own parents had, doting on their child as though it were their life’s greatest joy.

But of course, that wasn’t reality for everyone.

That was the downside of being a kid, after all. You live in your own innocent world, blissfully ignorant until the harsh truths of the world shatter the illusion.

Haesol broke the silence, her voice trembling now. “She told me… she couldn’t even hold Jinwoo for the first six months.” Her gaze dropped to her hands, twisting them together nervously. “She said even with her husband and her parents helping her, she just… felt hopeless. Miserable.”

Yeonwoo’s chest tightened as he listened, his own hands curling into fists on his lap. He couldn’t imagine Jinwoo as a baby, untouched by his own mother for months, while she drowned in despair. It was a chilling image.

“And if that happens to a woman with a loving partner and supportive parents…” Haesol hesitated, her voice catching in her throat. Then, with visible effort, she forced the words out: “I can’t imagine how much worse it was for my mom… having to look at a rapist’s child.”

The air in the room froze, tension rippling through it like a crack in glass.

Yeonwoo’s mind screamed in protest against the horror of the statement, but his body acted instinctively. He reached out, his fingers sliding over Haesol’s hand, wrapping around it tightly. Her hand was cold, trembling slightly in his grip.

Her gaze shifted to him, her tear-streaked eyes locking onto his. The sight of her tears was a knife to his chest, sharp and unrelenting, but at the same time, he was relieved to see them. It was better than seeing her shut down, bottling it all up.

From the moment she had first told him about her family all those years ago, Yeonwoo had hated the story with every fiber of his being. He hated that anyone could put her through such suffering. He hated that she’d lived a life more familiar with being hated than loved.

And he hated her so-called father with a passion that burned hot and deep in his gut.

Yeonwoo had lost track of how many ways he’d imagined killing that man – strangling him, breaking his neck, setting fire to every ounce of his existence. He wanted that man erased, obliterated, as though his absence from the world could somehow undo the scars he’d left on Haesol.

But now wasn’t the time for hatred. Now was the time to focus on the woman he loved, the woman sitting before him with raw pain in her eyes.

He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper when he finally spoke. “Haesol…” His words faltered, but he forced himself to keep going. “Do you… do you think you’re going to be like your mother? That you won’t… love the baby?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and terrifying, but it had to be asked.

Haesol didn’t respond right away. Her brow furrowed, her fingers tightening around his as if drawing strength from his touch. After what felt like an eternity, she shook her head slowly.

“No,” she said firmly, her voice steadier than he expected. Her eyes lifted to meet his, shining with a strange mix of vulnerability and resolve. “There’s no way I couldn’t love this baby… because they’ll be yours.”

The words hit him like a tidal wave, warmth flooding his chest so quickly that it left him breathless.

His throat tightened, and before he could stop it, his vision blurred with tears. He laughed softly, a weak, broken sound as he scrubbed at his eyes. “Crap,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “You can’t just say stuff like that, Haesol. I’ve already cried enough for one night.”

To his surprise, a small, soft chuckle escaped her lips. “You’ve cried enough for the whole week,” she teased gently, her voice lighter than it had been all night.

He froze for a moment, watching her face. She was laughing. Not much, but it was something. It was a crack in the wall she’d built around herself, a glimpse of the happy version of Haesol he had grown to love so dearly.

And despite knowing they weren’t done – that there was still so much to unpack, so much to work through – he let himself hold onto that moment. It was progress.

Yeonwoo reached out, taking both of Haesol’s hands gently in his own. Without a word, he gave the lightest tug, guiding her closer until the two of them lay side by side on the bed. They didn’t settle with their heads on the pillows, though. Instead, their heads pointed in the opposite direction, their legs awkwardly angled to avoid colliding.

Thank goodness for their king-sized bed.

The ceiling stretched above them, a vast blank canvas illuminated faintly by the warm glow of the bedside lamp. The silence between them was heavy, nearly suffocating. It felt as though the room itself was holding its breath, waiting for one of them to fill the void.

For a long moment, neither of them did.

Yeonwoo’s fingers twitched slightly, tempted to squeeze her hands again, to let her know he was still there. But Haesol’s voice broke the stillness first, quiet and raw.

“I’m scared,” she said, her words barely above a whisper. “I’m more scared than I’ve ever been.”

Yeonwoo turned his head to look at her. She wasn’t facing him – her gaze was still fixed upward, unblinking, as though afraid the ceiling might collapse under the weight of her thoughts.

He shifted, adjusting so that he was lying on his side, facing her. Slowly, she turned too, her eyes finally meeting his. They were red-rimmed and glossy, but in the depths of those tears, he saw something he couldn’t quite place – something that tore at his heart.

Yeonwoo didn’t speak. He just nodded, silently encouraging her to continue.

Haesol took a shaky breath. “When these… feelings started coming, I didn’t know how to describe them. It was like… like I wasn’t myself anymore. And the more I learned about postpartum and all the difficulties that come with pregnancy, the more lost I felt. I didn’t know what to do, Yeonwoo. I still don’t. This is something I’d never thought I’d have to worry about until I met you.”

Yeonwoo’s chest ached with the need to comfort her, to tell her she wasn’t alone, that he’d be there every step of the way. But this moment wasn’t his to take. It was hers. All he could do was listen, and he was determined to do so with his whole heart.

Haesol’s eyes drifted past him for a moment as she spoke again. “You remember when I told you about my family for the first to,e?” she asked quietly.

Yeonwoo’s throat tightened, and he nodded once more, unwilling to interrupt her.

“I still remember the look on your face when I told you,” Haesol continued, her voice trembling. “You looked horrified. Like you hated my father. Hated her.” She paused, her gaze returning to him, vulnerable and heavy with unshed tears. “And I didn’t want to say anything about this – about how I’ve been feeling – because I don’t think I could handle it if you looked at me the same way.”

Yeonwoo’s breath caught. Monster?

His mind rebelled against the word, repeating it in disbelief. Haesol? A monster? Never.

He had heard of monsters. He’d even faced one.

A monster that had haunted his nightmares long after childhood ended. A monster whose shadow had shaped him in ways he was still unraveling.

The same monster that made him wary of public bathhouses, his skin crawling at the thought of shared spaces. The one that made him panic at his cousin’s fifth birthday party in middle school, when the flash of a relative’s camera had sent him spiraling back to a moment he wanted to forget.

That was a monster. Someone who took from others without remorse, leaving lives shattered in their wake.

Haesol could never be that. Never.

He opened his mouth to tell her, to banish that poisonous thought from her mind, but Haesol spoke again, her voice barely holding steady.

“Even though I love you,” she began, her eyes glassy and faraway, “even though I’m happy about the baby… it doesn’t change the fact that I have no one to model from. No family, no examples to look at. No instincts. No –” Her voice caught. “No idea how to do this.”

Yeonwoo frowned, his chest tightening at her self-doubt.

“I mean,” she continued with a hollow laugh, “I didn’t even realize I wasn’t supposed to give Yeseul’s niece black coffee until Yeseul practically slapped it out of my hand.”

Despite the heaviness of the moment, a small laugh slipped from Yeonwoo before he could stop it. He shook his head, meeting her gaze with warmth in his eyes. “To be fair, she was really cute,” he said lightly.

She gave him a weak smile, but it didn’t last long.

“I’m serious, Yeonwoo,” she murmured, her voice soft. “I have nothing. And you… you’re great with kids.”

“Me?” he teased, raising a brow.

“Yes, you.” Her tone was genuine, unwavering. “You’ve always been good with them. And you have two good examples to copy off of. I don’t have that.”

Yeonwoo’s teasing smile softened, his heart swelling at her words. She was right – he’d had the privilege of growing up with two loving parents who had shown him what it meant to nurture, support, and love unconditionally.

And in that moment, he felt more grateful for them than ever.

Yeonwoo’s voice was gentle as he spoke her name, “Haesol.” The sound of it felt heavier than usual, as though it carried a thousand unspoken assurances he didn’t yet know how to articulate.

His fingers curled around hers, a familiar warmth shared between them. “I know our families… they couldn’t be more different,” he began, his voice steady but soft. “And I understand why you feel like you can’t talk to me – or even to my parents – about this. But I’ve had my share of doubts too, you know.”

Haesol’s brows furrowed as she tilted her head slightly toward him. “...Have you talked to them about this?”

He nodded, his expression unreadable for a moment before softening. “Yeah, I did. A few times, actually.”

Her lips parted slightly, as though she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“It’s normal to feel like this,” Yeonwoo continued, his thumb absentmindedly brushing against the back of her hand. “We’re about to bring a baby into the world – a life we’ll be responsible for every second of every day. It’s overwhelming. It’d be strange if we didn’t feel like this.”

He paused, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth as he glanced at their joined hands. The memory of another night so many years ago surfaced – when they first held hands in his tiny bed, the most chilling secrets being shared between them, but everything between them changing. That had been the beginning of something beautiful.

“Doubts are normal,” he said again, pulling himself back to the present. “And so are things like postpartum. You’re not alone in this.”

Haesol hesitated before asking, “Did your mom… did she go through it?”

Yeonwoo’s expression faltered, just for a second, but it was enough for her to notice. “Not that I know of,” he admitted carefully. “But that doesn’t mean it’s uncommon – or that it only happens to people who didn’t want a baby. Even people who are completely happy can go through it.”

He leaned back slightly, his gaze momentarily drifting toward the ceiling. “Your body goes through so much during pregnancy – hormonally, physically, emotionally. Carrying a baby for nine months and then giving birth is… it’s a lot. Honestly, I’d be more surprised if you still kept acting the same.”

Haesol didn’t respond right away, her fingers tightening slightly around his.

“It’s not just random either,” he added, his voice quieter now. “There are some people that are more likely to go through it. Like… your mom.”

At the mention of her mother, a shadow crossed Haesol’s face.

Yeonwoo’s thoughts spiraled inward as he grappled with the complexities of her family history. Unlike Haesol’s father, whose malice was clear-cut, her mother’s story was far more complicated. He couldn’t begin to fathom the pain of being assaulted, then forced to carry the product of that trauma for nine months. Her father had used money and power to craft a facade of normalcy, forcing a marriage to smooth over what couldn’t be erased.

It was no wonder her mother hadn’t felt attached to Haesol – how could she, when her child was a living reminder of everything that had been stolen from her? And it wasn’t just her mother. Haesol’s aunt had shared that hatred, amplifying it with cruel words that stripped Haesol of any sense of worth. Words like unnatural and repulsive echoed in Yeonwoo’s mind, and his chest tightened with anger. How could they expect a child to process that – to survive in a home where she was either exploited or ostracized?

The disgust twisted his stomach as he thought of the first seven years of Haesol’s life. Her father had turned her into a child model, not out of pride but for profit. She was starved, trained, and sculpted into perfection – treated like a doll whose only purpose was to generate wealth. And then, after the divorce, her mother had taken over, ensuring that any glimmer of love or acceptance Haesol might have hoped for was extinguished.

Yeonwoo’s chest felt heavy as he thought of all she had endured. Yet here she was, beside him, worrying about whether she would repeat their mistakes. He didn’t want to let her spiral any further.

He let go of her hand to cup her face gently, his thumb brushing against her cheek as if to ground her. “Haesol,” he murmured, his voice filled with conviction. “What they did to you – how they treated you – it wasn’t right. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

Her eyes darkened, and he could see the denial creeping into her expression. But he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

“You didn’t,” he repeated, firmer this time.

Her gaze flickered, wavering under the weight of his words.

Yeonwoo’s mind flashed back to his own scars, the ones he rarely spoke of. He thought of middle school, of Hyeong Jun’s taunting laughter as he and his friends pinned him down and took photos of his bruised, naked body. He remembered the sting of their words, calling his body disgusting, pathetic. And later, when his parents tried to comfort him, how he had lashed out at them – resenting their love because it was the only reason he was alive in the first place.

How he had played with fire and put his own life on the line in order to keep Junhyuk’s – his best friend’s mouth shut – not even thinking about the long-lasting effects it would have on the latter.

He thought of Haesol’s mother again, of the pain she must have endured, and how it had twisted into something toxic. He couldn’t fault her for not being able to love Haesol, but he also couldn’t excuse it. Love couldn’t be forced – it had to be freely given.

“I know she tried,” Yeonwoo said softly. “But forcing yourself to love someone never works. Even if it’s your own child, it only makes things worse.”

Haesol turned to look at him fully now, her expression unreadable. “Do you really think…” She hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you really think I can be a good mother?”

Yeonwoo’s heart ached at the vulnerability in her voice. He gave her a small, reassuring smile. “The fact that you’re worrying so much about it now makes me believe you can.”

She didn’t respond right away, her gaze searching his as though looking for any hint of doubt. Finally, she looked away, her voice trembling as she asked, “What if… what if there are signs that prove you wrong? After the baby comes, what if it’s already obvious that I’m not doing a good job?”

Yeonwoo took a steadying breath, his voice soft but firm as he began, "Do you remember what we promised each other when we got married?"

Haesol blinked, her expression shifting into something gentler as she nodded. Yeonwoo squeezed her hand, the warmth of her touch grounding him as he recited, his words tinged with both solemnity and affection, “To be each other's strength in the hardest times. To lean on one another when we feel like we can’t stand. To never forget the love that brought us here, even when things get rough.”

A small, bittersweet smile graced her lips. Yeonwoo continued, his tone unwavering, “We made those vows together, Haesol. And I meant every word. You’re not alone in this. You have our friends, my parents...and you’re stuck with me for as long as you’ll have me.”

Haesol’s hand flew up to cover his, the one still cupping her face. Her grip was firm yet tender as she whispered, “I want you for the rest of my life, Yeonwoo.”

His heart swelled at her words, and his voice softened. “Then… you got it.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek before adding, “No matter what happens, I’ll be here. If the doubts stay even after the baby’s born, I’ll still be here. If everything becomes overwhelming, I’ll still be here. And if that’s not enough, we’ll find help together. We’ll figure it out.”

Haesol let out a quiet, watery laugh, a sound that was more relief than humor. She leaned into his palm, closing her eyes briefly. “I’ll make sure to do the same for you,” she said, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling around them.

They stayed like that for a moment, the tension that had coiled tightly in the air finally loosening. Then, Yeonwoo lowered his hand from her face and placed both palms on her stomach, his touch featherlight. He traced small, soothing circles with his thumbs as his gaze fell to where their baby rested.

“We’ll be each other’s rock if we have to be,” he murmured, his voice reverent, “but for this baby… we have to be theirs, no matter what. I’m really looking forward to meeting them.”

He barely had time to look back up at her before Haesol’s hands covered his, her fingers trembling slightly. She met him halfway, capturing his lips in a sudden, fervent kiss.

“Wait –” Yeonwoo managed between kisses, but she didn’t stop. “Be careful –” he added, his voice muffled against her persistence.

Haesol shifted, attempting to move on top of him, but the sudden motion made her wince, her hand flying to her stomach. Startled, Yeonwoo immediately sat them both upright, his hands steadying her shoulders. They knelt facing each other, her breathing even as she broke into a small smile.

“They’re kicking,” she said, her calm voice laced with a hint of childlike wonder.

Yeonwoo blinked, his expression softening. “Can I see?”

She nodded, and he carefully pressed his ear to her stomach. Sure enough, faint but deliberate movements thumped against his cheek, like the flutter of tiny wings.

His breath caught, and a grin spread across his face as he sat up. “They’re going to take after you,” he said, his tone teasing but warm.

Haesol rolled her eyes, though her smile widened. “I hope they take after you.”

“Why?” Yeonwoo chuckled. “I’d prefer it the other way around.”

“Because they won’t be nearly as cute if they take after me,” she pouted, her voice lighthearted.

Yeonwoo raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. “I beg to differ.”

Her cheeks flushed as she leaned in for another kiss, but Yeonwoo pressed a finger to her lips, stopping her mid-motion. “There’ll be plenty of time for that after the baby’s born,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with humor.

She raised a brow, smirking. “A small kiss wouldn’t hurt.”

“It’s never just a ‘small kiss’ with you,” he quipped, his grin widening when she looked away, her playful guilt evident.

Internally, Yeonwoo couldn’t help but think about how eager she’d likely be once the doctor cleared them for “strenuous activities.” The thought made his ears turn red, but he pushed it aside.

“Starting to think you only married me for my body,” he teased, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Haesol shot him a cheeky grin. “It was certainly a bonus.”

They both laughed, their voices echoing softly in the quiet of the room. For the first time that evening, Yeonwoo felt a sense of peace wash over him.

His eyes lingered on her, and though the doubts that haunted her mind hadn’t completely vanished, he was okay with that. It wasn’t about erasing the fear but reminding her that her efforts weren’t in vain – that her past didn’t define her future as a mother.

Haesol let out a soft sigh. “All that crying really took it out of me,” she muttered, leaning against him slightly.

“How do you think I feel?” Yeonwoo shot back, his voice teasing but warm. “You married a crier, remember?”

He shifted, tugging her down onto the bed with him. “Now, let me be the big spoon for once. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

She chuckled, allowing him to settle behind her, his arms wrapping securely around her. The tension had melted completely, replaced by a comforting warmth.

As sleep began to overtake them, Yeonwoo tightened his hold ever so slightly. He knew the path ahead wouldn’t be easy, but as he closed his eyes, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were going to be okay. Together, they’d make it through.