Chapter Text
Myung-Gi kept his word.
He bought them a clean, quiet house on the outskirts of the city—a real home. A car in the driveway. Steady jobs, ones they were proud of. The kind people don’t whisper about. Somehow, against all odds, he’d built something stable from the wreckage of who he used to be. He loved that baby. God, he loved that baby. And Jun-Hee, too—even if he didn’t say it out loud as much as he felt it.
Jun-Hee was still a little stunned by all of it. That this man—this man—had actually pulled through. Maybe he wasn’t the lost cause she thought he was. Maybe he just needed something to live for.
—
They were both tangled in the sheets, half-snoring, half-clinging to each other in their ridiculous matching pajamas. Mostly Myung-Gi’s idea, of course—he said it made them look like a “real family.”
Then came the cry. Sharp, shrill, immediate.
Myung-Gi jolted upright like he’d been shot.
“Ji-Ah,” he mumbled, already scrambling to stand.
Jun-Hee blinked awake, groaning into her pillow. That baby barely let them sleep—barely—but it didn’t mean they loved her any less. If anything, it made the love heavier. Realer.
They had named her Ji-Ah together. It just sounded right when they said it out loud the first time. Like something clean. Something bright.
Like something new.
Myung-Gi rubbed at his eyes, dragging his feet down the hall like a ghost. The wood creaked under him, quiet but accusatory—you’re not sleeping tonight. Again.
He pushed open Ji-Ah’s door, her cries already piercing through the baby-blue walls like needles. No hesitation. He scooped her up into his arms and held her against his chest, swaying without rhythm, too exhausted to even pretend he knew what he was doing.
“Shh… shh, it’s okay,” he murmured, voice hoarse, barely audible. He was running on fumes. His eyes were half-lidded, head nodding slightly with every sway.
But Ji-Ah kept crying. Louder, messier, face scrunched up in that way that made him feel like he was failing.
“Come on…” he exhaled, almost defeated. “Please, sweetheart…”
She wasn’t having it. Of course not. This kid had lungs like a siren and the temper of a storm.
He rocked her again, a little more desperately this time, patting her back in that awkward, semi-panicked rhythm every new parent eventually defaults to.
Nothing.
He sighed hard, pressing his forehead against hers, eyes closing for a moment as if trying to will her calm.
“…Jun-Hee,” he called out, voice cracking just slightly. “I need you.”
There was no shame in it—not tonight. He could fight off debt collectors and corporate sharks, but not this six-pound dictator in a pink onesie.
Jun-Hee heard him—heard the edge in his voice, the quiet desperation threading through her name. She let out a long, tired groan, dragging herself out of the bed like she was rising from the grave. Barefoot, hair a mess, she trudged across the hall and into Ji-Ah’s room.
The sight wasn’t new. Myung-Gi standing there, half-conscious, cradling their daughter like he was about to cry himself.
“After all this time, you still can’t put her to sleep…” Jun-Hee muttered, rubbing her eyes. She sounded annoyed, but not surprised. She had shown him tricks—rocking angles, warm rags, heartbeat apps. None of it stuck.
“You’re the expert!” Myung-Gi said defensively, his voice cracked with exhaustion. He passed Ji-Ah off to her like she was made of glass.
Jun-Hee scoffed softly, adjusted the baby in her arms, and held her close to her chest.
Then—without warning—she cleared her throat and began to sing.
Low. Gentle. Steady. A lullaby from her childhood, laced with the warmth of old memory. Her voice wasn’t just good—it was beautiful. Rich, almost hypnotic, even through the fatigue.
Myung-Gi froze, his eyes widening slightly. He’d never heard her sing before. Not like that. Not fully.
Ji-Ah’s cries started to fade, little by little, her body relaxing in Jun-Hee’s arms.
He watched in stunned silence, as if she was performing some quiet miracle.
“See, there,” Jun-Hee whispered, the last note of her lullaby fading as she gently laid Ji-Ah back into the crib. The baby gave one final hiccup of protest before sinking into sleep, her tiny fists unclenching.
Jun-Hee stepped back, arms crossed, eyeing Myung-Gi expectantly.
He blinked. “You expect me to sing?!”
She gave him a sharp look over her shoulder. “Oh, no,” she said dryly, a teasing little glint in her eye. “I doubt you could.”
A smug snicker escaped her lips as she turned and jogged lightly out of the room.
Myung-Gi stared after her for a beat, scoffing with mock outrage—but the smirk tugging at his mouth betrayed him. He wasn’t mad. Not even close.
“Oh, you think you’re funny now, huh?” he muttered, grinning as he followed.
He jogged after her, quick and quiet so he wouldn’t wake Ji-Ah again, chasing her back to their room