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He had always been protective of you.
When you told him about your surprise in 9 months, his eyes had brightened with such joy and love. He had been overjoyed! His beloved wife would be the mother of his child!
But Jumin being Jumin, the more precious something was, to him, the more effort he put into protecting it. And he never seemed to know when he was going overboard.
He had Jaehee book all your doctors’ appointments, an architect for the nursery, and within a week of getting the news, had already started screening for a nanny.
“Husband, I’ll be home to care for the baby anyway,” you had said when you found out, annoyed.
“Wife, even I know child-rearing is taxing,” he countered, a slight smile on his lips.
It was all endearing, but a bit much. You did your best to keep him grounded, reminding him that pregnancy was not an illness; it was a very natural process that generations of women had undergone before, and would for generations to eternity. It took some time, and a lot of smooth talking and research (he would listen to arguments, but sometimes they had to be strong arguments), but Jumin came around and cancelled hiring two personal support workers to care for you while you were pregnant. You conceded on the nanny, but only for the first year, and only during the night.
Months passed as you happily grew, doing the baby-proofing and decorating yourself, with a little help from your friends. Jumin had wanted to hire professionals, starting with an architect and contract workers to remodel the room that would be the nursery, and eventually transitioning to an official home decorator, but you had insisted upon taking the reins. Baby would never really have a normal life; their family was so high-profile, after all. But, at the very least, baby’s first few years were going to be simple. Your child was going to get as close to normal as you could get.
Jumin did not understand precisely what you meant by “personal touches;” how could that in any way be superior to something professionally done? But by now, he respected your wisdom when it came to emotional things. After all, he had entrusted his heart to you. Maybe there was something to your theories.
And to be perfectly honest, he was charmed by how excited you were every time your brought home a new toy or outfit or baby-device (“A what-pump?”).
It fascinated Jumin to watch you blossom with every passing day. He loved putting his hands on you to begin with; now he could say “I want to see how much bigger you are,” as an excuse. Your mood swings were interesting, if a little surprising, at times; how cute: one moment you’re laughing, next, you were teary-eyed, and…wife, you’re too small to fight that bodyguard. It’s time for a snack; that ought to calm you down. Here, hold Elizabeth the Third…and now you are crying, again.
When you were much bigger, you ran into his office one day, without texting or calling him ahead of time. At first, Jumin was worried. Was there some kind of emergency? Were you and the baby alright? But you seemed fine, standing there just in front of his desk; if anything, you appeared to just want to make small talk with him for an oddly long amount of time.
“Wife, I always love your visits,” Jumin said finally, getting up, “But I’m afraid I really need to get to this meeting.
"Oh…” you replied, face falling a little, “Of course, husband.”
His brow furrowed a little, wondering what it was he had said that had put you out, so. Gathering up the papers he needed, he came around the desk and stood close to you.
“Truly, I love to see you,” he said gently, kissing you lightly on the temple, then the cheek, then lastly on your lips, “But I really must-”
He stopped when you gasped a little, grabbing his hands and pressing them against your belly. He raised an eyebrow; there was a strange, fluttering feeling, there.
“What…?” he looked at you, confused, “Is that…gas?”
“No, you silly robot!” you exclaimed, hitting his shoulder, but smiling, “That was a kick! Baby says ‘hello’!”
At first, his confusion deepened, then his eyebrows shot right up when your words registered. He smiled fondly at you, eyes softening, before he moved down to rest his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.
“…hello…” he murmured, notes of love in his voice that he used to only reserve for you.
But nothing in this life is perfect.
One morning, with only a few weeks until your little one was due, you woke up to an unusual wetness between your legs.
That’s odd… you thought foggily, sleep still heavy upon you. It felt familiar. …Like your period had come early. But that couldn’t be it; you were preg-
!!!
Realization hit you like a thunderbolt.
Your eyes snapped open, and you threw your sheets off, rousing your husband in the process with your sudden movement.
No, no, no…! It can’t be!
“Wife, what…” Jumin rolled over to look at you blearily. He stopped speaking when he saw your expression, then followed your line of sight to your lap.
Red.
Too much red.
Your sight blurred with tears as panic threatened to set in, but as ever, Jumin was ready to act.
Within minutes, you were on your way to the hospital, your stoic husband’s mask of calm betrayed only by the tremors in his hands as he held yours.
One minor surgery later, the doctor ordered bed rest. There was no definite reason for the bleeding, so taking it easy until the baby came was the only thing they could really prescribe. Jumin was not impressed, but he took the doctor’s orders in stride.
There was already a nurse waiting for you when you got home.
“You’re magic,” you whispered to Jumin, as the nurse wheeled your chair to your room.
“Anything for you,” he whispered back, tracing a tender line across your jawbone. His hands still shook.
He had stayed with you while you were in the hospital, and he did not go to work the day you came home.
He did not go back to work that week.
Jaehee came by in the mornings and evenings, relaying work that could not be done in his home office or via email. The others visited you almost daily, so that you would not feel too lonely, and to keep you up-to-date on the outside world. Elizabeth the Third never left your side once you got home.
But Jumin was, by far, the most attentive.
He ate every meal with you, making sure you remembered your vitamins. He worked in his home office, but took hourly breaks to check on you. Sometimes, he spoke, but more often, he did not, simply kissing your hands, your lips, your forehead, your belly…
When he was done his work, he sat in bed with you, one arm around your shoulders, the other hand on your bump. He kept the TV on, but though his eyes were trained on it, you knew he wasn’t watching. The sparkle in his eyes had been replaced by the shadow of fear.
You knew he was concerned, but one thing set an alarm off in your mind.
One evening, part way into your second week of bed rest, you and Jumin were “watching TV” together, as usual. Elizabeth the Third was with you, and, purring, she started rubbing against your belly. You smiled; she had been doing this for weeks, now. You liked to think she was bonding with the baby.
To your surprise, Jumin reached down and picked up the cat as soon as he noticed her touching you.
“No, lady. That will not do,” he said firmly, placing Elizabeth the Third on his other side, away from you.
You and the cat were shocked. That was the closest Jumin had ever gotten to scolding her.
He was a lot more worried that you originally thought.
“Husband…please…all will be well,” you said gently, putting a hand over one of Jumin’s.
“You cannot know that, wife. We don’t even know why it happened to begin with,” he replied, his brow furrowing.
He put his free hand against the side of your face, and to your chagrin, you felt that it was trembling.
“…I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice, pulling you a little closer and leaning over so that his forehead touched yours, “Please…Do me this great kindness and humour me. I know, logically, that we have done everything we can,” slowly, he let his nose graze over yours, “But please. I cannot lose you. My beloved wife, please be patient with me.”