Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Week 11

Hao had been feeling off for a few weeks now—nauseous, exhausted, and irritable. The slightest smell made his stomach churn, and the mere thought of food rushed him to the bathroom. He was constantly on edge, snapping at the smallest inconveniences, his patience worn thin.  

He probably gained some weight, he thought bitterly. Just the other day, when he was changing for bed, Hanbin had eyed him, as usual, before remarking, "Baobei, You look like you put on a few kilos."

Hao had rolled his eyes, adjusting the loose fabric of his nightgown. "I’m probably just bloated," he muttered, though even then, he knew it wasn’t just that.  

Deep down he knew what this was. The symptoms were all too familiar: the dizziness, the sensitivity to smells, the unrelenting fatigue. But he refused to believe it. No, it couldn’t be possible. They had been careful—so careful. Sure, they had stopped using condoms a long time ago, but Hao had been meticulous about taking his birth control pill. Every day, at exactly 8:00 a.m., without fail. He had never missed a dose, not once. 

This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when Haneul had just turned two.  

Haneul was still so little, her world a whirlwind of discovery and mischief. She had just started stringing together longer sentences, her tiny voice bubbling with excitement as she pointed at everything and declared, “Mine! ” or “Look, Mama! ” She had mastered walking months ago, and now she was running everywhere, her little legs carrying her at breakneck speed. Climbing had become her newest obsession—she scaled the couch, the bookshelves and even the kitchen chairs, her fearless curiosity giving Hao heart attacks at least three times a day. Most of his time was spent chasing after her, trying to keep her safe while she explored her world with reckless abandon. By the time she finally fell asleep each night, Hao was utterly drained, collapsing into bed with a silent prayer that tomorrow she wouldn’t find some new way to endanger herself.

And now this. The possibility of another child—another tiny, demanding, beautiful life to care for—loomed over him like a storm cloud, heavy and unrelenting. His mind raced with questions and fears, each one more suffocating than the last. How would he manage? Haneul was still so dependent on him, her needs consuming nearly every ounce of his energy. The thought of adding another baby to the mix felt overwhelming, almost impossible. He could barely keep up with Haneul as it was, her boundless energy and curiosity constantly keeping him on his toes. The idea of dividing his attention between two children, of ensuring both were safe, loved, and cared for, made his chest tighten with anxiety.

—---------------------------

Just two months ago, Haneul had an accident that still haunted him. It was midday, and Hao was in the kitchen preparing lunch for himself and his daughter. He had already packed Hanbin’s lunch that morning before he left for work—yesterday’s leftovers, nothing fancy, but Hanbin never complained. God bless Hanbin, Hao thought, his heart swelling with gratitude for his partner’s easygoing nature. 

As he chopped vegetables, he heard Haneul toddling around the house, her little footsteps padding against the floor. She had wandered into the laundry room, but Hao, tired and preoccupied, didn’t think much of it. She was always playing, always exploring, and he had grown used to the sounds of her independence.

But then it happened—a loud thud, followed by an ear-piercing cry that sent a jolt of panic through his body. It was a sound he hadn’t heard in over a year, not since she was a baby and had fallen off the bed. His heart pounding, Hao dropped the knife and sprinted to the laundry room, his mind already conjuring the worst-case scenarios. When he found her, his breath caught in his throat. Haneul had somehow climbed onto the closet, a feat he couldn’t even begin to understand, and had fallen, hitting the back of her head on the hard floor. She was wailing, her tiny hands clutching at her skull, and Hao felt a wave of terror crash over him.

Hao’s entire body began to tremble, his vision blurring as panic surged through him. That was his baby—his little Haneul—lying there, hurt and bleeding. “Oh my god,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, choked with fear. For a moment, he was frozen, too shocked to react, his mind blank except for the overwhelming thought: This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.

But then instinct kicked in, and he lunged forward, dropping to his knees beside her. “Baby, baby, how are you? Oh my god, where does it hurt?” he stammered, his hands hovering over her small body, afraid to touch her and make it worse. When he saw the blood—dark and thick, spilling from the back of her head—his stomach lurched. “What the fuck? Okay, okay, okay,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, his voice shaking as badly as his hands. He was terrified, his mind racing in a thousand directions, but he knew he had to act fast. He had to get her to the hospital. Now.

Haneul’s cries had been deafening, but suddenly, they stopped. The silence was worse . Hao looked down at her, his heart pounding in his chest, and realized she had fainted. “Oh dear Lord, no, no, no,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. He pressed his hand firmly against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, his fingers slick with blood. He had to think. He had to move. 

Running on autopilot, he scooped her up, cradling her tiny body against his chest, and bolted through the house. He grabbed a clean towel from the bathroom and a tie from the closet, his movements frantic but deliberate. Wrapping the towel around her head, he used the tie to secure it tightly, his hands trembling so badly he could barely knot it. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to comfort her or himself.

He raced down the stairs of their apartment building, Haneul clutched tightly in his arms. His car—a small used sedan that Hanbin had gifted him for their anniversary—was parked just outside. It wasn’t much, but it was his, and Hao loved it fiercely. He fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking so badly he could barely unlock the door. He laid Haneul gently in her baby seat, keeping the towel pressed firmly against her head, and climbed into the driver’s seat. 

The engine roared to life, and Hao sped through the streets, his mind a blur. He didn’t remember how many stop signs he ran or how many cars he swerved around. All he could think about was Haneul—her small, still body in the back, the blood staining the towel, the way her face had gone so pale. He would deal with the consequences later—the tickets, the fines, whatever it took. Right now, nothing mattered except getting her to the hospital.

When he finally screeched to a halt outside the ER, he didn’t even bother parking properly. He flung the door open, scooped Haneul into his arms, and ran inside, his voice raw as he shouted, “Help! Somebody help! My daughter—she’s hurt!” 

Nurses rushed toward him, their faces calm but urgent, and a doctor appeared, barking orders. They guided him to a gurney, gently taking Haneul from his arms. “We need to take her now,” one of the nurses said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. Hao wanted to protest, to stay by her side, but he knew he had to let them do their job. 

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking, “please help her.” 

The doctor nodded, already focused on Haneul as they wheeled her away. “Wait here,” the nurse instructed, her hand briefly touching his arm in a gesture of reassurance before she hurried after the gurney. 

The door slammed shut in front of him, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway. Hao stood there, frozen, staring at the closed door as if it were a barrier between him and everything he held dear. His mind raced, a chaotic mess of fear and guilt. What happened? That’s my baby. My baby.

Memories flooded his mind, unbidden and relentless. Haneul’s arrival into the world had been anything but easy. Hao’s pregnancy with her had been fraught with complications—relentless morning sickness, debilitating fatigue, and countless scares that sent him rushing to the hospital. And then, when she was born, it was even worse. She had come too soon, at just eight months, her tiny body struggling to survive outside the safety of his womb. He remembered the terror of those first moments, the way she couldn’t breathe on her own, her fragile lungs failing her. The doctors had rushed her to the neonatal intensive care unit, where she was hooked up to a CPAP machine—continuous positive airway pressure—to help her breathe. For weeks, she lived in an incubator, her small body connected to tubes and monitors, her survival hanging by a thread.

Hao had spent every waking moment by her side, his heart breaking a little more each day as he watched her fight for her life. He remembered the sound of the machines, the beeping of the monitors, the way her tiny chest rose and fell with the help of the CPAP. He remembered the fear that gripped him every time an alarm went off, signaling that her oxygen levels had dropped. It had been the hardest time of his life, and he had sworn then that he would do anything to keep her safe, to give her the life she deserved.

And now, this. After everything they had been through, after the countless sleepless nights and the endless worry, Haneul had finally started to thrive. This past year had been a turning point—she had grown stronger, her laughter filling their home, her curiosity leading her to explore the world with a confidence that made Hao’s heart swell with pride. He had thought they were past the worst of it, that they had crossed into safer territory. But this accident—this horrible, preventable accident—had shattered that fragile sense of security.

—---------------------------

Hao sank to the floor, his back against the cold hospital wall, and buried his face in his hands. Sobs wracked his body, each one tearing through him like a knife. He felt utterly helpless, the weight of his guilt crushing him. If only he had been paying closer attention. If only he had stopped her from climbing that closet. If only he could turn back time and undo this nightmare. He would give anything— everything —to go back and prevent this from happening. 

His mind spiraled, replaying the moment over and over again. The sound of her cry, the sight of her small body crumpled on the floor, the blood—so much blood. He couldn’t shake the image of her face, pale and unconscious, as he carried her to the car. The fear that had gripped him then was nothing compared to the agony he felt now, sitting here, waiting for news. Waiting to know if his baby—his miracle baby—would be okay.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice raw and broken. “Please, let her be okay. I can’t lose her. I can’t.”

A nurse approached Hao, her footsteps soft against the tiled floor. She knelt beside him, her voice gentle but firm. “Sir, do you have anyone you can call? Family, a partner? You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Hao blinked up at her, his vision blurred by tears. His mind was a fog, his thoughts scattered and disjointed. He stuttered, struggling to form a coherent sentence. “I—I don’t—I—” Then it hit him. Hanbin . He needed to call Hanbin. 

“My husband,” he managed to choke out, his voice trembling. “I need to call my husband.”

The nurse nodded, her expression sympathetic. “Okay. Take your time. Let us know if you need anything.” She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before walking away, leaving him alone with his phone clutched tightly in his shaking hands.

Hao fumbled with the screen, his fingers slipping as he scrolled through his contacts. He found Hanbin’s number, saved under Laogong , and pressed call. The phone rang once, twice, and then Hanbin’s warm, familiar voice filled his ear.

“Hi, darling,” Hanbin said, his tone light and cheerful. “I’m about to start a class soon. Is everything alright?”

Hao opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a choked sob. He tried again, his voice breaking as he forced the words out. “Hanbin, it’s—it’s Haneul. She’s in the hospital. She fell, and—and there was so much blood. They’re operating on her now. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know if she’s—” His voice cracked, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.

There was a beat of silence on the other end, and then Hanbin’s voice came through, sharp and urgent. “What? Oh my god, Hao, I—I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m leaving right now. Just hold on, okay? I’m coming.”

Hao nodded, even though Hanbin couldn’t see him. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Please hurry.”

The call ended, and Hao slumped back against the wall, his phone slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them close to his chest, and buried his face in them. His body shook with silent sobs, his mind consumed by fear and guilt. He prayed—to whoever might be listening—that his baby girl would make it through this. That she would be okay. That he hadn’t failed her.

Time passed in a blur. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, his head resting on his knees, his tears leaving a track on his thighs. The hallway was quiet, the only sounds the distant hum of hospital machinery and the occasional hurried footsteps of medical staff. He didn’t look up when he heard the rapid approach of familiar footsteps, but he felt the moment Hanbin dropped to his knees beside him.

“Love,” Hanbin said, his voice breathless from running. He reached out, his hands trembling as he cupped Hao’s face, forcing him to look up. “I’m here. I’m here now. What happened? Is there any news?”

Hao shook his head, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. “No,” he whispered hoarsely. “They’re still operating. I don’t know—I don’t know if she’s—”

Hanbin pulled him into a tight embrace, cutting off his words. “She’s going to be okay.” Hanbin’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but he refused to let them fall. He had always been the strong one, the steel that held their little family together. And now, more than ever, he needed to be that unwavering support for Hao and Haneul. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and turned to Hao, his voice soft and concerned. “How did this happen, baobei? Tell me everything.”

Hao’s hands trembled as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was making lunch… and she wandered into the laundry room. I didn’t think much of it—she always goes there. But then I heard this loud thud, and she—she was crying so hard, Hanbin. I ran to her, and she climbed the closet. I don’t even know how she did it. She fell, and there was so much blood… so much blood. She fainted, and I—I didn’t know what to do. I just took her and ran.” His voice broke, and he began to shake again, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

Hanbin reached out, pulling Hao into his arms again and holding him tightly. “Shh, it’s okay. You did everything you could. You got her here, and that’s what matters.” He pressed a kiss to Hao’s temple, his voice steady despite the fear clawing at his own chest. “Haneul is strong, Hao. She’s the strongest little girl I know. She won’t let this stop her. She’s going to make it through this. I know she will.”

Hao clung to him, his fingers gripping the fabric of Hanbin’s shirt as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. “What if she doesn’t?” he whispered, his voice raw with anguish. “What if I lose her, Hanbin? I can’t—I can’t lose her.”

“You won’t,” Hanbin said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “ We won’t. She’s going to be okay. We just have to believe that, okay? We have to be strong for her.”

As Hanbin pulled back slightly, he noticed Hao’s state for the first time. His wife was still in his pajamas—a pair of short shorts and a thin lace, sleeveless top—clearly having rushed out of the house in a panic. Hanbin frowned, his heart aching at the sight. Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it around Hao’s shoulders, pulling it snugly around him. “You must be freezing,” he murmured, his voice gentle.

Hao shook his head, his hands clutching the edges of the jacket. “I… I didn’t even think about that. I just ran.”

Hanbin cupped Hao’s face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears. “I know, I know. But now you need to take care of yourself too, okay? Haneul needs you to be strong when she wakes up.”

Hao nodded weakly, his eyes searching Hanbin’s for reassurance. “What if… what if she doesn’t wake up, baobei? What if—”

“Shhh. Stop,” Hanbin interrupted, his voice firm. “Don’t go there, Hao. Don’t let your mind reach those dark places. We have to stay positive. For her. For us.”

Hao took a shaky breath, his hands gripping Hanbin’s wrists. “You’re right. You’re always right. I just… I can’t stop thinking about how scared she must have been. How much it must have hurt.”

Hanbin’s expression softened, and he pulled Hao close again, resting his chin on top of his head. “I know, love. I know. But she’s not alone. She has the best doctors taking care of her, and she has us. We’re her parents, and we’re going to be here for her every step of the way.”

They sat there together, holding each other tightly, the silence of the hospital hallway wrapping around them. After a while, Hanbin spoke again, his voice soft but steady. “Do you remember when she was born? How tiny she was, and how scared we were? But she fought so hard, Hao. She fought to be here with us. And she’s still fighting. She’s not going to give up now.”

Hao nodded, a small, fragile smile tugging at his lips. “You’re right. She’s always been a fighter…our little warrior.”

“Exactly,” Hanbin said, his voice warm with pride. “And she’s going to come out of this even stronger. We just have to be here for her, okay? Together.”

Hao leaned into him, his head resting on Hanbin’s shoulder. They sat there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, waiting for news of their daughter. Nurses passed by, their footsteps too loud, their voices hushed. At some point, one had stopped to tell them their daughter was being prepped for surgery. Then came more waiting. And more. And more. 

—---------------------------

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door to the operating room opened. The doctor and a nurse stepped out. 

Hao and Hanbin shot to their feet, their hands clasped tightly together, their faces pale with anticipation. The doctor’s expression was calm but serious.

“First of all, I want to reassure you that Haneul is stable now,” the doctor said, his voice steady and professional. “She had a significant injury to the back of her head, which caused a deep laceration and bleeding. When she arrived, we performed a CT scan to assess the extent of the damage. The scan showed that she had a subdural hematoma —a collection of blood between her brain and skull—caused by the impact of her fall.”

Hao’s breath hitched, and Hanbin tightened his grip on his hand, his own face pale but focused. “Is that… serious?” Hanbin asked, his voice trembling slightly.

The doctor nodded. “It can be, yes. A subdural hematoma puts pressure on the brain, and if left untreated, it can cause permanent damage or even be life-threatening. That’s why we needed to act quickly. We performed surgery to stop the bleeding and relieve the pressure on her brain. The surgery went smoothly, and we were able to stabilize her.”

Hao’s knees nearly buckled, and he slumped against Hanbin, who wrapped an arm around him to keep him steady. “Is she… is she going to be okay?” Hao whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Yes,” the doctor said firmly. “She’s going to be okay. She’s resting now, and her vitals are strong. However, we’ll need to keep her here for a few days to monitor her closely. Head injuries like this can sometimes have delayed complications, such as swelling or infection, so we want to make sure she’s completely out of the woods before we discharge her.”

Hanbin nodded, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. “Can we see her?”

“Of course,” the doctor said. “She’s still unconscious, but you can sit with her. Just be gentle—she’s been through a lot, and she’ll need plenty of rest to recover fully.”

They followed the nurse into the recovery room, their footsteps quiet against the tiled floor. There, in the middle of the room, laid Haneul. She looked so small, so fragile, lying in the hospital bed with a bandage wrapped around her head and an IV attached to her tiny arm. Her chest rose and fell steadily, her face peaceful in sleep.

Hao’s breath hitched as he approached her, his hand trembling as he reached out to gently hold hers. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry I let this happen. I promise I’ll do better. I’ll be a better mom. This won’t ever happen again, okay?”

Hanbin stood beside him, his hand resting on Hao’s shoulder. He knew there was nothing he could say to pull Hao out of this guilt-ridden state—not yet, at least. So he simply massaged Hao’s neck, offering silent comfort as they both watched over their daughter.

When Haneul woke up, her big, curious eyes fluttered open as she looked around the unfamiliar room. When she spotted her parents sitting beside her bed, her face lit up. “Mama? Appa?” she called, her voice soft but clear.

Hao nearly sobbed with relief, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Hi, baby,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “How are you feeling? Does it hurt?”

Haneul blinked up at him, her little brow furrowing as if she were thinking hard. Then she shook her head slowly, her tiny hand reaching up to touch the bandage on her head. “No hurt,” she said confidently. “All better!”

Hanbin chuckled, his eyes glistening with tears. “That’s our girl,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re so brave, Haneul. Mama and Appa are so proud of you.”

Haneul smiled, her little face lighting up. “Play?” she asked, her voice hopeful. “Go out?”

Hao laughed through his tears, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Not yet, baby. You have to stay here for a little while longer, okay? The doctors want to make sure you’re all better before we take you home.”

Haneul’s smile faltered, and she pouted slightly. “Why? No like here.”

Hanbin leaned down, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “We know, sweetheart. But the doctors are taking really good care of you. They just want to make sure you’re super strong and healthy before we go home. It’s only for a few more nights, okay? Then we’ll have a big celebration. How does that sound?”

Haneul’s eyes widened at the word “celebration,” and she clapped her hands, her smile slowly returning. “Yay! Cake?”

Hao and Hanbin both laughed. “Yes, baby,” Hao said, his voice soft. “We’ll have cake. Anything you want.”

Haneul giggled, her little voice filling the room with warmth. “And toys?”

“And toys,” Hanbin agreed, his smile widening. “Whatever you want, princess. You just focus on getting better, okay?”

Haneul nodded, her energy already waning as she snuggled back into the pillows. “Okay, Appa. Love you.”

“We love you too, baby,” Hao said, his voice breaking as he gently squeezed her hand. “So, so much.” As they sat there, watching their daughter drift back to sleep, the weight of the past few hours began to lift. Haneul was okay. She was strong, she was resilient, and she was still their little ray of sunshine.

—---------------------------

Hao refused to leave Haneul's side for the three nights she stayed in the hospital, spending every moment slumped in the uncomfortable chair next to her bed. He barely ate, barely slept, and Hanbin had to gently remind him to take care of himself. “You need to be good for her,” he would say, pressing a sandwich or a bottle of water into Hao’s hands. “She needs you at your best.”

By the third day, Hao looked worse than Hanbin had ever seen him—even during his pregnancy, when he was constantly sick and exhausted, he hadn’t looked this drained. His eyes were shadowed, his face pale, and his hands trembled whenever he reached out to stroke Haneul’s hair. When they finally returned home, Hanbin took one look at Hao and ordered him to rest. “You’ve done enough,” Hanbin said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Haneul’s okay now. She’s safe in our house, and I’ll take care of her. You need to sleep.”

Hao wanted to protest, but the exhaustion was too much. He barely made it to their bed before collapsing, and he slept for more than twelve hours straight, the weight of the past few days finally catching up to him. When he woke up, it was already night, and the house was quiet except for the soft hum of the heater. He blinked groggily, disoriented for a moment, before remembering where he was. Home. Safe. Haneul was okay.

He sat up slowly, his body still heavy with sleep, and padded out of the bedroom to check on Haneul. Her door was slightly ajar, and he peeked in to find her sitting on her mattress, surrounded by her little toy cars. She was pushing them back and forth, making soft vroom vroom noises, her bandage still wrapped around her head but her energy clearly restored. When she noticed him standing in the doorway, her face lit up. “Mamaaa!” she squealed, dropping the toys and reaching her arms out toward him.

Hao’s heart melted, and he stepped into the room, crouching down beside her. “Hi, baby,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “What are you doing?”

“Play cars!” Haneul announced proudly, holding up a red toy car. “Wait for Mama! Play together?”

Hao smiled, his chest swelling with love for her. “Of course we’ll play together, sweetheart. But Mama needs to do a few things first, okay? You keep playing, and I’ll be back soon.”

Haneul pouted for a moment but then nodded, satisfied with his answer. “Okay, Mama! Hurry!” she said, already turning her attention back to her toys.

Hao chuckled and kissed the top of her head before heading to the living room. There, he found Hanbin setting the table, the soft glow of the overhead light casting a warm ambiance over the room. Hao walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around Hanbin’s waist, resting his head on his shoulder. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice still rough from sleep.

Hanbin turned his head slightly, a soft smile spreading across his face as he reached up to gently pat Hao’s arm. “Hey, love. Did you sleep well?”

Hao nodded, nuzzling into the crook of Hanbin’s neck. “Yeah. I can’t believe I slept that long. I feel like I’ve been out for days.”

“You needed it,” Hanbin said, his voice warm and soothing. “You were running on fumes, Hao. I’m just glad you finally got some rest.” He paused, his tone softening even more. “Why don’t you take a shower? It’ll help you feel more like yourself. I’ve got everything under control here.”

Hao sighed, his grip tightening slightly around Hanbin. “I don’t know if I have the energy. I still feel so… heavy.”

Hanbin turned fully in Hao’s arms, cupping his face gently in his hands. “I know, love. But a shower will help, I promise. Warm water, your favorite skincare—it’ll make you feel human again. And when you’re done, I’ll have food ready for you. I ordered Chinese.”

Hao’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile. “You always know what I need, don’t you?”

Hanbin chuckled softly, brushing a thumb over Hao’s cheek. “That’s my job, isn’t it? Now go. Take your time. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Hao leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Hanbin’s lips. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

Hanbin smiled, his eyes filled with warmth. “Always, love. Now go.”

When Hao caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he froze. Hanbin was too nice for not telling him he looked like a walking corpse. He sighed, running a hand over his face. His daughter was better, his husband was by his side, and there was no need to wallow in the past. 

He took a long, hot shower, letting the steam soothe his tired muscles. Afterwards, he meticulously followed  his skincare routine, his skin drinking up the moisture it had been deprived of for days. He moisturized his body thoroughly, the familiar ritual helping him feel more like himself. Finally, he slipped into a tiny black silk dress and its matching robe—one of his many versions of the outfit that always made him feel his best. The soft fabric clung to his frame, comfortable yet elegant, and he felt a small spark of confidence return as he tied the robe loosely around his waist.

—---------------------------

When he stepped out of the bathroom, he found Hanbin still setting the table, the aroma of the food beginning to fill the air. “I’ll go get Haneul,” Hao said, heading back to her room.

Haneul was still playing with her cars, but she looked up eagerly when Hao walked in. “Mama! Play now?” she asked, her eyes wide with hope.

Hao smiled and scooped her up, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Not yet, baby. It’s dinner time first. But after we eat, we’ll play together, okay?”

Haneul nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Okay, Mama! Food now!”

Hao carried her to the dining table, where Hanbin had laid out a feast of their favorite Chinese dishes.The table was filled with steaming plates of dumplings, stir-fried noodles, sweet and sour pork, and Hao’s favorite—mapo tofu. The aroma was comforting, and Hao felt his stomach growl as he settled Haneul into her high chair.

As they began to eat, Hao glanced at Hanbin. “What happened with work? Did you manage to sort everything out?”

Hanbin nodded, reaching for a dumpling. “Yeah, I talked to the manager. She was really understanding when I explained what happened. I took a few days off. I still have two more, actually. I’ll be here until our little troublemaker is fully back to her usual self.”

Hao sighed, his shoulders relaxing a little. “I’m sorry you had to take time off.”

Hanbin shook his head, his tone gentle but firm. “Don’t apologize, Hao. This is where I need to be right now. You and Haneul come first, always. The studio will still be there when I get back.”

Hao hesitated, his chopsticks hovering over his plate. “Will you… will you still get paid for the week you took off?”

Hanbin paused, then shook his head. “No, not for the days I took off. But it’s fine. We’ll manage.”

Hao’s face fell, and he set his chopsticks down, his appetite suddenly gone. “Hanbin, I’m so sorry. This is my fault. Now we have hospital bills, and you’re missing a week of pay. I—”

“Hey,” Hanbin interrupted, his voice firm but kind. He reached across the table, placing his hand over Hao’s. “We’ll figure it out, okay? Right now, let’s just focus on Haneul and make sure she’s okay. We can worry about the rest later.”

Hao looked down at their joined hands, his throat tight. “I just… I feel like I’ve been so out of it. I didn’t even think about how this might affect us financially.”

Hanbin squeezed his hand, his voice soft but steady. “Hao, listen to me. You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to lean on me, you know? That’s what I’m here for.”

Hao nodded, though the guilt still lingered in his chest. “I know. I just… I hate that this happened.”

“I know,” Hanbin said, his thumb brushing over Hao’s knuckles. “But it’s not your fault. Accidents happen, and we’ll get through this. Okay?”

Hao took a deep breath, forcing himself to nod. “Okay.”

Hanbin’s smile softened, and he gave Hao’s hand one last squeeze before pulling back. “Oh, by the way, my mom and dad want to visit tomorrow. They want to check on Haneul and make sure we’re all okay.”

At the mention of her grandparents, Haneul’s eyes lit up. “Halmeoni? Harabeoji?” she asked excitedly, her little hands clapping together. “Come see me?”

Hanbin chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Yes, sweetheart. Halmeoni and Harabeoji are coming to see you tomorrow. They’ve missed you so much.”

Haneul squealed with delight, kicking her legs in her high chair. “Yay! Halmeoni! Harabeoji!”

Hao smiled at her excitement but then turned to Hanbin, his expression softening. “What about my mom? She’s been calling me too. Did you talk to her?”

Hanbin nodded, his tone gentle. “I did. I explained everything to her. She wants to talk to you when you’re feeling better though.”

Hao raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Did you talk to her in Chinese? Or did you just rely on Google Translate again?”

Hanbin groaned, rolling his eyes. “I used Translate, okay? Like a thousand times. You know my Chinese is terrible.”

Hao laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Yeah, I know. But at least you tried. That’s what matters.”

Hao felt a wave of relief wash over him, his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with gratitude. “You always take care of everything, don’t you?”

Hanbin shrugged, a playful smirk on his lips. “Someone’s gotta keep this family running smoothly.”

Hao couldn’t help himself. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Hanbin’s lips, his hand resting on his husband’s cheek. “I love you,” he murmured. “So much.”

From her high chair, Haneul giggled loudly, pointing at them. “Mama kiss Appa! Me too! Kiss me!”

Hanbin and Hao both laughed, their hearts swelling at her demand. “Alright, baby,” Hao said, standing up and scooping Haneul out of her high chair. He held her between him and Hanbin, and they both leaned in to press kisses to her cheeks, squishing her gently between them.

Haneul burst into a fit of bubbling laughter, her tiny hands pushing at their faces. “Mama! Appa! Too much!” she squealed, though her wide grin showed she loved every second of it.

Hanbin and Hao laughed along with her, the sound filling the room with warmth and joy. For the first time in days, Hao felt like everything was going to be okay. 

And it did. Over the next few weeks, things began to settle back into their usual rhythm. Haneul got much better, her bandages were removed, and she was back to her cheerful, mischievous self. She was once again wreaking havoc around the house, climbing furniture, and asking Hao endless questions like, “Mama, what’s this?” and “Mama, what’s that?” every single day. Hao found himself both exhausted and endlessly amused by her boundless curiosity.

Hanbin, too, was back to work. He had landed a big project—choreographing for an idol group—and it paid well. The timing couldn’t have been better. With the money he earned, they managed to pay off the hospital bills and take care of everything else without too much stress. Hao felt a wave of relief wash over him every time he thought about it. They had made it through one of the hardest times of their lives, and now things were finally looking up.

When Hanbin’s parents came to visit, Haneul was overjoyed. She hadn’t seen her Halmeoni and Harabeoji in a while, and she clung to them the moment they walked through the door. Hao watched as she chattered away in her baby talk, her grandparents laughing and doting on her. It warmed his heart, but it also made him promise himself something: he would take Haneul to visit them more often, even if Hanbin couldn’t join. Family was important, and he wanted Haneul to grow up surrounded by love.

Hanbin’s parents had brought so much food with them—kimchi, japchae, bulgogi, and more—that Hao didn’t have to cook for days. It was a welcome break, and for a while, everything felt perfect. 

Until now.

Chapter Text

As Hao stands in the middle of his bedroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror, his mind races, torn between denial and the growing suspicion that he can’t ignore any longer. The symptoms have been persistent—nausea, fatigue, dizziness—and no matter how much he tries to convince himself it’s stress or exhaustion, the possibility looms over him like a shadow. He needs to know for sure. 

Taking a deep breath, he turns away from the mirror and calls out, “Haneul! We’re going on a grocery trip, baby!”

Haneul comes running, her little feet pattering against the floor. “Yay! Store!” she cheers, already grabbing her tiny shoes. Hao can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, even as his stomach churns with anxiety.

At the supermarket, Hao moves quickly, grabbing the essentials—milk, bread, eggs, and a few snacks for Haneul. He avoids the aisles with strong smells, his nausea flaring up at the slightest whiff of something pungent. As they pass by a pharmacy on their way out, Hao hesitates. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he walks in and grabs a pregnancy test. Four different brands, just to be sure. He doesn’t want any room for doubt.

Haneul, oblivious to the weight of the moment, tugs on his sleeve. “Mama, park? Play?” she asks, her big eyes pleading. “Sunshine!”

Hao glances outside. The weather is nice, and Haneul has been cooped up indoors for too long. “Okay, baby,” he says, forcing a smile. “We’ll go to the park for a little while.”

—---------------------------

At the park, Haneul immediately runs off to play with the other children, her laughter ringing out as she climbs onto the jungle gym. Hao finds a bench nearby and sits down, the pharmacy bag tucked discreetly into his bag. He was lost in thought, his chin resting on his hand as he watched his Haneul twirl around, her laughter echoing across the park. The sunlight caught the delicate fabric of his skirt, a soft, flowy material that swayed gently in the breeze. He was used to the occasional stares or comments whenever he dressed like that. Today, however, he wasn’t prepared for what was coming.

He didn’t notice the woman approaching until she plopped down on the bench beside him, her perfume overpowering and her voice gratingly cheerful. “Hi there!” she said brightly, as if they were old friends.

Hao glanced at her briefly, offering a polite but distant nod before turning his attention back to his daughter. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation, especially not with a stranger.

“So, who are you watching over?” she asked, her tone casual but with an edge of nosiness as she gestured toward the children playing nearby.

Hao followed her gaze to his daughter, who was now chasing a butterfly with unbridled enthusiasm. “The girl in the pink dress,” he replied simply, his voice soft but firm.

“Oh, the one playing with my son?” the woman said, pointing to a boy in a blue shirt who was now giggling as he ran alongside Haneul. “They seem to be having fun.”

Hao nodded again, his attention drifting back to his daughter. He really wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but the woman didn’t seem to notice—or care.

“Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?” she continued, undeterred by his silence. “Perfect for a day out with the kids. Though I suppose it’s always nice when you’re working for a rich family, huh? Must be a cushy job, being a nanny. Bet you don’t even break a sweat.”

Hao frowned, confused by her assumption. He opened his mouth to correct her, but she barreled on before he could speak.

“I see how you’re dressed,” she said, her eyes scanning his outfit—a soft, oversized sweater and skirt. “The sweater, the skirt… very… feminine . Trying to make an impression, are we? Let me guess—you’re after the husband, right? Smart move. I’ve seen it before. Gold diggers like you always have a plan.”

Hao stared at her, his expression hardening. “That’s my daughter,” he said, his voice low and cold. “I’m not her nanny.”

The woman blinked, her smile faltering for a moment before she let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Oh, even smarter! You already baby-trapped the rich man. No wonder you look so pretty and put together. Must be nice, not having a care in the world, living that kind of life. Just sitting around looking pretty while someone else pays the bills.”

Hao’s jaw tightened, his hands gripping the edge of the bench. He could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface, but he forced himself to stay calm. “You don’t know anything about my life,” he said, his tone icy.

The woman rolled her eyes, her tone growing even more venomous. “You probably have a maid for everything, don’t you? Bet you don’t even know how old your daughter is. Or what she likes to eat. Probably not, right? I mean, if you can afford to prance around like that, you probably don’t lift a single finger. Meanwhile, the rest of us are out here actually working and struggling.”

Hao’s patience was wearing thin. He was used to people making assumptions about him—about his appearance, his relationship, his parenting—but this woman’s words cut deeper than most. She was insinuating things that were not only untrue but deeply offensive.

“Just because I’m young and pretty doesn’t mean I’m not a good mom,” he said, his voice trembling with barely contained anger. 

The woman scoffed, leaning back on the bench with a smirk. “Oh, please. Spare me the sob story. All you’ve got to think about is spreading your legs.”

Hao froze, his entire body tensing as her words hit him like a slap. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—couldn’t do anything but stare at her, his mind racing with a storm of emotions. Anger, humiliation, and a deep, searing frustration boiled inside him, threatening to spill over.

Then, slowly, he turned to face her fully, his eyes blazing with a fire that made the woman’s smirk falter. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and trembling with barely contained rage. “You think you know me? You think you have any right to sit there and run your mouth?”

The woman opened her mouth to retort, but Hao cut her off, his voice rising now, sharp and unyielding. “I wake up every single day and work harder than you could ever imagine to take care of my daughter. I cook her meals, I help her study and learn, I hold her when she cries, and I make sure she knows she’s loved. And yeah, I do it all while looking like this— ” He gestured to himself, “—because I don’t owe you or anyone else an explanation for how I dress or how I live my life.”

The woman blinked, her smug expression faltering as Hao’s words hit her like a tidal wave. But he wasn’t done.

“You want to talk about spreading my legs?” he snapped, his voice shaking with fury. “How about you take a long, hard look at yourself and ask why you’re so obsessed with what I do with my body. Maybe if you spent half as much time worrying about your own life instead of judging mine, you wouldn’t be sitting here, bitter and alone, trying to tear someone else down to make yourself feel better.”

The woman’s face turned red, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find a response. But Hao didn’t give her the chance. He stood up abruptly, his hands trembling with anger, and glared down at her. “You don’t know me. You don’t know my family. And you sure as hell don’t get to talk to me like that ever again.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed off by. He didn’t look back. He didn’t care what she had to say. He scooped his daughter into his arms, holding her tightly as if she were the only thing grounding him in that moment. She giggled, oblivious to the tension, and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

—---------------------------

When Hao got home, Haneul was practically dragging her feet, her little hand clutching his as she yawned loudly. The excitement of running around in the park had worn her out, and by the time they stepped inside, she was barely keeping her eyes open.

“Come on, baby,” Hao said softly, scooping her up into his arms. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

Haneul nodded sleepily, resting her head on his shoulder as he carried her to her room. He helped her change into her pajamas, her movements sluggish and her eyelids drooping. When she was finally tucked under the covers, she looked up at him with those big, innocent eyes that always melted his heart.

“Mama,sing?” she asked, her voice soft and drowsy.

Hao smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Of course, my love,” he said, sitting on the edge of her bed. He began to hum softly, then sang her favorite lullaby, his voice gentle and soothing. Haneul’s eyes fluttered closed as he sang, her breathing slowing as she drifted off to sleep.

When he was sure she was asleep, Hao leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sleep well, my little star,” he whispered. Then he stood up, turned off the light, and quietly closed the door behind him.

The moment the door clicked shut, the weight of the day crashed down on him all at once. He leaned against the wall, his chest tightening as the emotions he had been holding back finally overwhelmed him. Anger, sadness, worry, humiliation—it all came rushing in, a storm that left him breathless. His legs felt weak, and he slid down to the floor, his skirt pooling around him, and buried his face in his hands. The woman’s words echoed in his mind, sharp and relentless. All you’ve got to think about is spreading your legs . The accusation burned, not just because it was cruel, but because it tapped into the deep, unspoken fears he had carried for years.

As a male carrier, Hao’s life had been anything but easy. Male carriers—men born with the rare but not unheard-of ability to conceive and carry children—were a taboo subject in many parts of the world. In China, where Hao had grown up, it was something to be hidden at all costs. The condition was seen as unnatural, even shameful, and those who had it were expected to live in secrecy. If anyone discovered the truth, it would spell disaster—social ostracization, humiliation, and a lifetime of being shunned. Hao had grown up hearing stories of male carriers who were disowned by their families or forced to flee their hometowns to escape the stigma. It was a heavy burden to carry, and for years, Hao had internalized the fear and shame that came with it.

When he moved to Korea, he had hoped things would be different. And in some ways, they were. Korea was more accepting of male carriers, at least on the surface. They weren’t treated as freaks or forced to completely erase their identity. But was it really any better? Here, male carriers were often sexualized and objectified, reduced to nothing more than their ability to bear children. They were seen as novelties, curiosities, or worse—objects of desire. And god forbid if a male carrier decided to wear whatever they wanted. Hao loved expressing himself through his clothing—sometimes he wore dresses and skirts, sometimes more masculine outfits. So what? Was it the end of the world? Apparently, to some people, it was. People loved staring, ogling, and making comments. It was like this everywhere—men thinking they could get away with groping him, women discrediting him, and everyone else treating him like some kind of spectacle.

It was exhausting. And it was one of the main reasons he had fallen in love with Hanbin. Hanbin was the only person who had ever understood Hao fully and completely. From the moment they met, Hanbin had never once made Hao feel like his condition was something to be ashamed of. He never commented on Hao’s clothing choices. In fact, Hanbin had once told him, “ I’ll love you regardless of how you present yourself. Even if you were a worm, I wouldn’t care. I love you for you.” T hose words had stayed with Hao, a lifeline in a world that often felt like it was against him.

Hanbin didn’t treat Hao like a housewife either. He cherished him. He valued Hao’s contributions to their family, whether it was cooking dinner, helping Haneul with intellectual games, or simply being there to listen when Hanbin had a rough day. They were partners in every sense of the word, and Hanbin made sure Hao knew it. That was why it hurt so much when people like the woman in the park dared to comment on their family. They didn’t know the struggles they had faced, the sacrifices they had made, or the love that held them together.

After a while, Hao got his act together. He couldn’t afford to wallow in his emotions for too long—there was dinner to make and the house to clean. He moved through his chores on autopilot, his mind still buzzing with the day’s events but his hands busy with the tasks at hand. He decided to make something quick and comforting: jajangmyeon, black bean noodles with diced vegetables and pork. It was one of Haneul’s favorites, and he knew Hanbin would appreciate the effort, even if it was a simple dish.

—---------------------------

Just as he was finishing up, the front door opened, and Hanbin stepped inside, dropping his bag by the entrance. Haneul, who had been quietly playing with her toys in the living room, immediately perked up and ran toward him, her little feet pattering against the floor.

“Appaaaa!” she squealed, launching herself into his arms.

Hanbin laughed, scooping her up and spinning her around. “My princess! I missed you so much,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

Haneul nodded enthusiastically, her words tumbling out in the way only a two-year-old’s could. “We go park, Appa! I see butterfly! It fly, fly, fly!” She flapped her arms like wings, her eyes wide with excitement. “I run fast! Like zoom!” She made a zooming noise, bouncing in Hanbin’s arms. “Then I'm tired… Mama sing song. I sleep. Then we go home. Now eat dinner!”

Hanbin listened carefully, his eyes wide with mock surprise. “Wow, that sounds like such a fun day! You must be the luckiest girl in the world to have such a fun Mama.”

Haneul giggled, nodding again. “Yeah! Mama best! And now you home, Appa. Better!”

Hanbin smiled, setting her down and ruffling her hair. “I’m glad to hear that. Now, let’s go see what Mama made for dinner, okay?”

He walked into the kitchen, where Hao was setting the table. Hanbin came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Hao’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Hey,” he said softly. “I missed you.”

Hao tensed for a moment before relaxing into the embrace. “I missed you too,” he replied, though his voice was distant.

Hanbin frowned slightly but didn’t comment. Instead, he kissed Hao’s cheek and asked, “How was your day?”

Hao shrugged, avoiding Hanbin’s gaze. “It was fine. Just the usual. Dinner’s ready, so go shower and we’ll eat.”

Hanbin hesitated, sensing something was off, but he didn’t push. “Okay,” he said, giving Hao one last squeeze before heading to the bathroom.

When Hanbin returned, the table was set, and Haneul was already seated in her high chair, eagerly waiting for dinner. Hanbin sat down across from Hao, who was quietly serving the food. Haneul immediately reached for her spoon but then paused, looking up at Hanbin with her big, pleading eyes.

“Appa, feed me?” she asked, her voice sweet and innocent.

Hanbin chuckled. “Of course, my princess. Anything for you.”

Hao watched silently as Hanbin fed Haneul, his own food mostly untouched. He pushed the noodles around his plate, only taking small bites here and there. Hanbin noticed but didn’t say anything, instead focusing on Haneul, who was chattering away about her day.

“Appa, this yummy!” Haneul said, her mouth full of noodles. She held up a piece of pork on her fork, waving it around. “Look! Meat!”

Hanbin laughed, “Yes, it’s very yummy. Mama made it just for you.”

Haneul grinned, swinging her legs under the table. “Mama best cooker!” she declared proudly, as if it were a universal fact.

Hao managed a small smile at that, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he said softly.

Haneul turned to Hanbin, her eyes wide with excitement as she swung her legs under the table. “Appa, I draw today!” she announced, her voice full of pride.

Hanbin raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise. “You did? What did you draw?”

Haneul grinned, holding up her hands as if framing a picture. “I draw Mama! And Appa! And me!” She pointed to herself, then to Hao, who was quietly pushing his food around his plate. “Mama say it pretty!”

Hanbin smiled, glancing at Hao, who gave a small nod but didn’t look up. “I bet it’s the prettiest drawing ever,” Hanbin said, turning back to Haneul. “Can I see it after dinner?”

Haneul nodded enthusiastically, her mouth full of noodles. “Yeah! I show you!”

Hanbin chuckled, wiping a bit of black bean sauce from her cheek. “Good. I can’t wait to see it.”

Haneul swallowed her food and pointed at her plate. “Appa, more noodles?”

Hanbin obliged, scooping up another bite for her. “Here you go, princess. But eat your veggies too, okay?”

Haneul made a face, poking at the diced zucchini in her bowl. “No like veggies…” she mumbled.

“But veggies make you strong,” Hanbin said, pretending to flex his muscles. “See? Appa eats veggies, and I’m super strong!”

Haneul giggled, shaking her head. “No, Appa silly!”

Hanbin grinned, feeding her a piece of zucchini along with the noodles. “There, see? Not so bad, right?”

Haneul chewed thoughtfully, then nodded. “Okay… but only little bit.”

Meanwhile, Hao stood up and began clearing the table, loading the dishes into the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. He moved quietly, his mind elsewhere. Haneul noticed and slid out of her high chair, toddling over to him.

“Mama, play with me?” she asked, tugging on his skirt.

Hao forced a small smile, crouching down to her level. “Not right now, sweetheart. Mama has to clean up. Why don’t you go play with Appa? He can help you with your counting sticks.”

Haneul pouted, her lower lip trembling. “But I want you to play too!”

Hao sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I know, baby. But Mama has a lot to do. Go on, I’ll come find you later, okay?”

Haneul looked like she was about to protest, but Hanbin stepped in, scooping her up. “Hey, how about we start without Mama? I’ll help you with the counting sticks, and then when Mama’s done, he can join us. Sound good?”

Haneul nodded reluctantly, her pout fading as Hanbin carried her to the living room. Hao watched them go, his chest tightening with guilt. He hated brushing Haneul off, but he just couldn’t bring himself to focus on anything right now. He turned back to the dishes, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on the oven with more force than necessary.

—---------------------------

In the living room, Hanbin sat cross-legged on the floor with Haneul, spreading out the colorful counting sticks Hao had carefully chosen for her. It was one of the many educational games Hao had picked out, determined to make sure Haneul grow up smart and curious. Hanbin held up a red stick and two blue ones. “Okay, princess, how many sticks do we have here?”

Haneul tilted her head, her tiny fingers poking at the sticks. “One… two… three…” she counted slowly, her brow furrowing in concentration.

“That’s right!” Hanbin said, clapping his hands. “You’re so smart! Just like Mama and Appa.”

Haneul beamed, clearly proud of herself. “Mama say I smart!”

“Mama’s right,” Hanbin said, ruffling her hair. “Now, let’s see if you can count to five.”

As Hanbin helped Haneul with the sticks, Hao finished cleaning up and leaned against the counter, watching them from the kitchen. His heart ached at the sight of Haneul’s bright smile and Hanbin’s patient encouragement. He wanted to join them, to be present in the moment, but the weight of the day pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe.

As he stood there, another wave of nausea hit him. His stomach churned, and he barely had time to drop the dishcloth before he was running to the bathroom. Hanbin’s head snapped up at the sound of Hao’s hurried footsteps, his eyes narrowing with concern.

“Hao?” Hanbin called, half-standing from the floor, his eyes fixed on the bathroom door. His voice was laced with worry, but there was no response.

Before he could stand further, Haneul tugged on his sleeve, her tiny fingers clutching at his shirt. “Appa, count more?” she asked, holding up a handful of sticks. Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes were wide with a mix of confusion and frustration.

Hanbin hesitated, his gaze flicking between Haneul and the bathroom door. “Just a second, princess. Let me check on Mama first, okay?”

But Haneul wasn’t having it. Her face scrunched up, and her eyes filled with tears. “No! Count more!” she demanded, her voice rising as she stomped her little foot. “Count now!”

Hanbin’s heart sank as Haneul’s cries grew louder. She was definitely her mama’s daughter—stubborn and determined when she wanted something. He crouched down, trying to soothe her. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Appa’s here. Let’s count, okay?”

Haneul sniffled, her tears spilling over as she shoved the sticks toward him. “Count!” she insisted, her voice breaking.

Hanbin sighed, glancing once more at the bathroom door before sitting back down. “Okay, okay, we’ll count,” he said, forcing a smile as he wiped her tears with his thumb. “How many sticks do we have here?”

Haneul’s cries subsided into hiccups as she pointed at the sticks. “One… two…” she counted, her voice shaky but determined.

“That’s right!” Hanbin said, his tone encouraging even as his mind raced. “You’re doing so well. Let’s keep going.”

As Haneul continued counting, her tears drying as she focused on the task, Hanbin’s attention kept drifting to the bathroom door. He could hear faint sounds from inside—water running, maybe—but nothing that told him what was going on. His chest tightened with worry, but he couldn’t leave Haneul, not when she was so upset.

“Three… four…” Haneul counted, her voice growing steadier. She looked up at Hanbin, her eyes still glistening with tears but her expression now more focused. “Appa, your turn!”

Hanbin forced a smile, picking up a stick. “Five,” he said, holding it up. “See? You’re so good at this!”

Haneul beamed, her earlier distress forgotten as she clapped her hands. “I smart!”

“You’re the smartest,” Hanbin agreed, ruffling her hair. But his smile faltered as his eyes flicked back to the bathroom door. Hao, what’s going on? he thought, his worry growing with every passing second.

Haneul, oblivious to his inner turmoil, grabbed another handful of sticks and held them out to him. “Again, Appa!”

Hanbin nodded, his heart heavy as he turned back to her. “Okay, princess. Let’s count again.”

Hao didn’t come out of the bathroom for a while. It had been nearly 30 minutes, and Hanbin’s worry grew with every passing second. Hao had seemed so distant all evening, and rushing to the bathroom like that only added to Hanbin’s unease. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“Haneul,” Hanbin said gently, turning to his daughter, who was still playing with the counting sticks. “Appa’s going to check on Mama, okay? You stay here and keep counting.”

Haneul looked up at him, her big eyes filled with concern. “Mama okay?” she asked, her voice small.

Hanbin forced a smile, ruffling her hair. “Mama’s fine, princess. Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.”

Haneul nodded, though her brow remained furrowed as she turned back to her sticks. Hanbin stood up, his heart pounding as he walked to the bathroom. He knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open. “Hao? Everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with worry.

When he stepped inside, he found Hao sitting on the small ledge outside the bathtub, his legs stretched on the floor as he stared at a pregnancy test in his hands. Hanbin’s eyes quickly scanned the room, landing on three other tests lined up on the sink. His breath caught in his throat. Oh gosh, he thought. Was this why Hao was off all day?

Hanbin wasn’t sure how Hao was feeling—shocked, scared, overwhelmed?—so he did the only thing he could think of. He walked over, wrapped his arms around Hao, and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “We’ll figure it out,” Hanbin murmured, his voice steady and reassuring. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.”

Hao didn’t respond at first. He just sat there, staring at the test in his hands. Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet Hanbin’s. “I’m pregnant,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hanbin’s breath hitched, but he didn’t let go. He had suspected as much, but hearing it out loud made it real. He nodded, his hands squeezing Hao’s knees gently. “Okay,” he said simply. “We’ll handle it.”

Hao’s eyes filled with tears, and he looked away, his voice trembling as he spoke. “I’ve known for weeks,” he admitted. “I just… I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to think about it.”

Hanbin’s heart ached at the pain in Hao’s voice. He reached up, gently cupping Hao’s face and turning it back toward him. “Hey,” he said softly, his thumb brushing away a tear. “It’s okay. You don’t have to carry this alone. I’m here, okay? I’m always here.”

Hao’s breath shuddered as he leaned into Hanbin’s touch. “I’m scared,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “What if it’s like it was with Haneul? What if I can’t handle it? I don’t think I can go through that again, Hanbin. I just… I can’t.”

Hanbin’s chest tightened at Hao’s words. He remembered all too well how hard it had been for Hao during his first pregnancy—the physical pain, the emotional toll, the endless nights of worry and exhaustion. The thought of Hao going through that again terrified him too. He didn’t have the right words to say, didn’t know how to make it better. So he did the only thing he could: he pulled Hao closer, wrapping his arms around him so tightly that Hao’s breath hitched.

“I’m scared too,” Hanbin admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want you to go through that again either. But whatever happens, we’ll face it together. You’re not alone, Hao. Not now, not ever.”

Hao buried his face in Hanbin’s shoulder, his body trembling as he clung to him. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” he whispered, his voice muffled against Hanbin’s shirt.

“You are,” Hanbin said firmly, his arms tightening around Hao. “You’re the strongest person I know. And I’ll be here every step of the way. I promise.”

They stayed like that for a while, Hanbin holding Hao as if he could shield him from the world. But then, a soft knocking sound interrupted the silence. The bathroom door creaked open slightly, and a tiny voice called out, “Mama? Appa? YOu here?”

Haneul stood in the doorway, her little hands fumbling with the door as she tried to push it open further. When she saw Hao and Hanbin, her face lit up, and she toddled over to them, her tiny feet pattering against the floor. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around Hao’s leg, hugging him tightly.

“Mama,” she said softly, her voice filled with a kind of innocent understanding that only a child could have. “You okay?”

Hao looked down at her, his heart swelling with love even as tears filled his eyes. He reached down and gently picked her up, holding her close. “I’m okay, sweetheart,” he said, his voice shaky but warm. “Mama’s just… having a hard day.”

Haneul nodded solemnly, as if she understood more than she let on. She reached up and patted Hao’s cheek with her tiny hand. “It’s okay, Mama,” she said. “I here.”

Hao’s breath hitched, and he pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you, my little star,” he whispered.

Hanbin watched them, his heart aching with love and worry. He reached out, brushing a hand over Haneul’s hair before pulling both Hao and Haneul into his arms. “We’re all here,” he said softly. “And we’ll get through this together. All of us.”

Hao nodded, his tears spilling over as he held Haneul close and leaned into Hanbin’s embrace. 

—---------------------------

After putting Haneul to bed, Hao and Hanbin sat on either side of her, their little girl nestled between them. She had asked Hanbin to sing for her tonight, and he obliged, his voice soft and soothing as he sang her favorite lullaby. Haneul’s eyes grew heavy, but she wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet.

“Appa,” she said, her voice drowsy but insistent. “Check for monsters.”

Hanbin chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Monsters, huh? You think there are monsters under your bed?”

Haneul nodded seriously, her tiny face scrunching up in determination. “Check, Appa. Please?” She pointed a tiny finger toward the edge of the bed, as if directing him to the exact spot where the monsters might be hiding.

Hanbin pretended to groan dramatically, sliding off the bed. “Alright, alright, I’m on monster duty,” he said, crouching down and peeking under the bed. He made a show of it, even pulling out a toy car and a stray sock for effect. “Hmm… let’s see… no monsters here. Just a few dust bunnies and maybe a lost sock. Oh, and your toy car! I think it’s been hiding from you.”

Haneul giggled, clapping her hands. “No monsters! Yay!” She reached for the toy car, clutching it to her chest like a treasure. “Thank you, Appa.”

Hanbin climbed back onto the bed, settling beside Haneul again. “All clear, princess. No monsters tonight.”

Haneul nodded, satisfied, then turned to Hao, her eyes wide and pleading. “Mama, story now?”

Hao’s heart melted at her request. “Of course, sweetheart,” he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “What kind of story do you want?”

Haneul thought for a moment, her tiny brow furrowing in concentration. “Dragon story,” she decided, her eyes lighting up. “With the princess and the dragon! And… and a castle!”

Hao smiled, brushing a hand over her hair. “You’ve got it,” he said, launching into a tale about a brave princess who befriended a dragon and went on adventures together. He added details as he went, making the princess look just like Haneul and the dragon a friendly, glittery creature who loved to dance. Haneul listened intently, her eyes wide with wonder, until her eyelids grew heavy and she finally drifted off to sleep, her tiny fingers still clutching the toy car.

Just as she was about to fall asleep, she murmured softly, “I love you, Mama and Appa. Best Mama and Appa.” Her voice was barely audible, but the words hit Hao and Hanbin like a wave, filling the room with warmth.

Hao’s breath caught in his throat, and he looked at Hanbin, who was smiling softly, his eyes glistening. They sat there for a moment, watching her peaceful face, the soft rise and fall of her chest as she slept. It was a moment so perfect, so fragile, that Hao felt his heart ache with love.

Hanbin leaned over to press a kiss to Hao’s temple before standing up. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s let her sleep.”

They left Haneul’s room quietly, closing the door behind them. In the living room, Hao sank onto the couch, his mind racing again after quieting down with Haneul earlier. Hanbin sat beside him, his expression serious but gentle. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

Hao nodded, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He knew this conversation was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Hanbin reached over, taking Hao’s hand in his. “It’s your decision,” he said firmly, his eyes locked on Hao’s. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll support you. If you want to keep the baby, we’ll make it work. If you don’t… that’s okay too. It’s your body, your choice. I just want you to be sure about what you want.”

Hao’s breath hitched, and he looked down at their joined hands. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need some time to think about it.”

Hanbin nodded, squeezing his hand. “Take all the time you need, love. I’m here, no matter what. We’ll figure this out together, just like we always do.”

Hao’s eyes filled with tears, and he leaned into Hanbin’s side, resting his head on his shoulder. “I’m scared,” he whispered. “What if I make the wrong choice? What if I can’t handle it?”

“There’s no wrong choice,” Hanbin said, his voice steady and reassuring. “Whatever you decide, it’ll be the right one for you. And for us. We’ll make it work, Hao. We always do.”

Hao nodded, his tears spilling over as he clung to Hanbin’s hand. “I just… I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to mess us up.”

“You won’t,” Hanbin said firmly, turning to face Hao and cupping his face in his hands. “You’re the strongest person I know, Hao. And no matter what happens, we’ll face it together. You, me, and Haneul. That’s what matters.”

Hao looked into Hanbin’s eyes, searching for any hint of doubt or hesitation. But all he found was love—steady, unwavering love. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“I love you too,” Hanbin replied, his voice just as soft. He pressed a gentle kiss to Hao’s lips, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “We’ll get through this.”

As they moved to their bedroom, Hao headed straight for the shower, letting the hot water wash away the exhaustion of the day. He stepped out and dried himself off before slipping into his favorite nightgown - a soft lavender-colored one made of fluffy brushed cotton that fell just under his ass cheeks. The familiar comfort of the fabric against his skin was a small relief after such an emotionally draining day.

Hanbin was already in bed when Hao emerged from the bathroom, scrolling through his phone with one hand while the other patted the space beside him in invitation. "Come here," he said softly, locking his phone and setting it aside.

Hao padded across the room and instead of sitting beside him, he pushed Hanbin down onto the mattress and climbed on top of him, burying his face in the crook of Hanbin's neck with a tired sigh. Hanbin's arms immediately came up to wrap around him, one hand rubbing soothing circles on his bare spine where the nightgown had slipped down.

They lay like that for a quiet moment before Hao murmured against Hanbin's skin, "I got slut-shamed today."

Hanbin's hands froze mid-caress. Gently but firmly, he pushed Hao up by the shoulders to look at his face. "What?" His voice was sharp with concern, but Hao just looked back at him with exhausted eyes, all the fight drained out of him.

So Hao told him everything - about the woman at the park, her cruel assumptions and cutting remarks, how she'd reduced him to nothing more than a gold-digging whore in her narrow-minded view. As he spoke, Hanbin's expression darkened, his jaw tightening with each new detail.

When Hao finished, Hanbin pulled him close again, pressing a firm kiss to his forehead. "Listen to me," he said, voice thick with conviction. " You're not just the best mother our daughter could ask for, but you're also my partner who held my hand through every crisis. Not a single thing a  bitter stranger says can change that."

Hao exhaled shakily, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as Hanbin continued, "Yeah, we're a young couple figuring things out. So what? We're building our family our way. As long as we're happy and our baby is safe, everyone else can fuck right off." He punctuated this with a playful squeeze to Hao's hip. "Besides, they're probably just jealous I landed the hottest wife in the country."

Hao’s breath hitched as Hanbin’s hands began a familiar, torturous exploration—one palm sliding up the curve of his thigh beneath the silk nightgown, fingers pressing into soft skin with possessive intent. The other hand cupped the swell of his chest, thumb brushing over his nipple through the thin fabric, already peaked and sensitive. Hanbin’s touch was deliberate, savoring, as if he wanted to memorize every shiver he pulled from Hao’s body.

"Mmm, and what a wife you are," Hanbin murmured against the flushed skin of Hao’s neck, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses up to his jaw. "Beautiful," he nipped, "smart," another bite, "fucking sinful—" His teeth dragged over Hao’s pulse point, and Hao gasped, fingers tangling in Hanbin’s hair as if to both pull him closer and push him away.  

Before Hao could retaliate, Hanbin flipped them in one smooth motion, pressing Hao into the mattress, his body a solid weight between Hao’s thighs. The sudden shift knocked the breath from Hao’s lungs—not just from the movement, but from the way Hanbin looked down at him, dark eyes burning with possession.  

"Would you let me take care of you tonight?" Hanbin repeated, voice rough as his hands slid under the hem of Hao’s nightgown, palms skimming up the sensitive skin of his waist. "Just lay there like the pretty princess you are, huh?"  

Hao arched beneath him, torn between defiance and surrender. "You’re— ah— pushing your luck tonight," he breathed, but the way his legs instinctively tightened around Hanbin’s hips betrayed him.  

Hanbin smirked, leaning down to lick a slow stripe up Hao’s throat. "You love it," he murmured, fingers dipping beneath fabric, teasing. "Love when I spoil you. When I make you feel so good you forget your own name."  

Hao’s hips jerked, a whimper catching in his throat. "Cocky bastard—"  

"Yours," Hanbin agreed easily, biting down on the tender spot where neck met shoulder, just hard enough to make Hao cry out. "Now be good and let me worship you, princess."  

"You talk too much Hanbin," Hao breathed, though his hips ground instinctively, seeking friction. Hanbin chuckled, the sound dark and rich, vibrating against Hao’s throat as his wandering hand slipped higher, fingertips teasing the dampening fabric between Hao’s legs.

"You love my mouth," Hanbin countered, sucking a bruise into the hollow of Hao’s collarbone. "Just not for talking."

Hao’s breath hitched as Hanbin’s fingers pressed down, rubbing slow, torturous circles over his cock. The fabric was sheer enough that he could feel every ridge of Hanbin’s fingerprints, every deliberate stroke—maddeningly light, never enough. "Fuck— Hanbin," he hissed, arching into the touch.

"Mm, so pretty when you’re desperate," Hanbin murmured, dragging his palm up the length of him, savoring the way Hao’s thighs trembled. "You gonna beg? Or just keep squirming?"

Hao dug his nails into Hanbin’s shoulder, torn between shoving him away and pulling him closer. "I’m gonna strangle you if you don’t— ah!" The threat dissolved into a moan as Hanbin finally palmed him fully, squeezing just shy of rough.

"If I don’t what?" Hanbin teased, his other hand sliding beneath the nightgown to grope Hao’s ass, pulling him flush against his own hardening length. "Use your words, princess."

Hao groaned, half frustration, half want. "Just hurry up and— fuck!" His demand was cut off as Hanbin ducked his head, biting down on the sensitive peak of his chest through the fabric, tongue swirling wet and hot.

Hanbin pulled back just enough to smirk up at him, fingers still working Hao’s cock with infuriating precision. "Say please."

Hao’s hips jerked. "Bastard."

"Close enough."

Before Hao could say anything, Hanbin suddenly sat back, reaching for the lube on the nightstand. In one smooth motion, he grabbed the hem of Hao’s nightgown and yanked it up and off, tossing it aside, leaving Hao bare beneath him—every inch of skin flushed and exposed.

Hanbin’s gaze raked over him, dark and hungry, before he let out a low chuckle. "You do look like you’re pregnant," he mused, dragging his palms over Hao’s hips, his stomach—"Softer. Fuller."

Hao scoffed, breathless. "No shit," he panted, arching into Hanbin’s touch. "That’s what happens when you knock me up— ah!"

Hanbin cut him off with a searing kiss, biting at his lip before pulling back to admire him again. "Fuck, you’re so hot like this," he murmured, hands roaming possessively over Hao’s body—his thickened waist, the incredibly subtle swell of his stomach, the way his thighs had filled out just enough for Hanbin to grip them tighter. "Mine. All mine."

His mouth followed where his hands had been, biting and sucking marks into Hao’s skin, worshipping every new curve, every inch of him that had changed because of him.

Hao writhed, fingers twisting in the sheets. "Quit— hngh— admiring and fuck me already—"

Hanbin nipped at his inner thigh, the sharp little bite making Hao jolt as his fingers dug into the sheets. The sting faded into warmth almost immediately, replaced by the soft, wet heat of Hanbin's tongue laving over the same spot in apology. "So impatient," Hanbin teased, his breath ghosting over Hao's oversensitive skin. He could feel Hanbin's smirk against his thigh, the way his lips curved as he pressed one last kiss to the trembling muscle before finally—finally—sliding his hand higher.

The first brush of slick fingers against his entrance drew a punched-out whine from Hao's throat, his hips twitching up instinctively. Hanbin tutted, using his free hand to pin Hao's hip firmly to the mattress. "No," he chided, rubbing slow, maddening circles without pressing in. "You'll get what I give you, princess. And right now..." His fingertip pressed just enough to make Hao's breath hitch. "...I think you need to be patient a little longer."

Hao whimpered, the sound embarrassingly high as Hanbin continued to tease, dragging his slick fingers up and down, occasionally applying the barest pressure before pulling away completely. Every nerve ending felt alight, his entire body strung tight with anticipation. "Bin—" he gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets. "Please—"

The plea was cut off by a sharp cry as Hanbin finally, finally pressed a finger inside without warning, curling it just so on the way in. Hao's back arched off the bed, stars bursting behind his eyelids as that clever finger stroked over that perfect spot again. "There we go," Hanbin murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he watched Hao unravel beneath him. "That's it, sweetheart. Just like that."

He added a second finger before Hao could catch his breath, the stretch burning so good, his toes curling against the sheets. Hanbin's fingers moved with purpose now, scissoring gently before crooking just right, over and over until Hao was a writhing, gasping mess. Every drag of those fingers sent white-hot pleasure up his spine, his cock leaking pathetically against his stomach.

"But don't worry, princess," Hanbin breathed against his thigh, his voice dark with promise as he twisted his fingers just so, wrenching another broken cry from Hao's lips. A third finger joined, the stretch bordering on too much, but Hanbin's free hand was there to soothe, rubbing gentle circles into Hao's hip. "I'll take real good care of you."

And oh, he did. His fingers pistoned in and out with devastating precision, curling relentlessly against that spot inside Hao that made him see stars. Every thrust was calculated, every twist of his wrist designed to wring another gasp, another whimper from Hao's kiss-swollen lips. The wet sounds were obscene in the quiet room, Hao's ragged breathing and punched-out moans the only other soundtrack to his undoing.

Hanbin's pinky brushed over his rim, applying just enough pressure to make Hao sob, then sliding in with the rest oh his fingers. Hao screamed, his thighs trembling violently. "That's it," Hanbin praised, his voice rough. "Look at you, taking me so well. So perfect." His fingers sped up, the angle shifting slightly to press harder, deeper— "Come on, sweetheart. Let me feel you."

Hao came with a strangled cry, his vision whiting out as pleasure crashed over him in waves, his body clamping down around Hanbin's fingers as they worked him through it. His back arched off the bed, thighs trembling, his stomach painted in streaks of his own release. Hanbin watched with dark, hungry eyes, drinking in the sight—Hao unraveling beneath him, his lips parted in breathless gasps, his skin flushed and glistening with sweat.

Hanbin didn’t give him a moment to recover. He pulled his fingers free, ignoring Hao’s oversensitive whimper, and shoved his sweats and boxers down in one rough motion, kicking them aside. 

His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, already leaking at the tip. He didn’t bother with lube—not when Hao’s cum was right there, slick and warm on his stomach. 

With a filthy grin, Hanbin dragged his fingers through the mess, gathering it in his palm before wrapping his fist around his length, stroking himself with Hao’s spend. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he worked himself over, spreading the sticky wetness, his hips jerking into his own grip. 

Then, just to see Hao’s eyes widen, he brought his fingers down to Hao's cum puddle and picked up a good amount to push it to his mouth and licked his knuckles one by one, slowly, tongue curling around them. “Fuck,” Hao choked out, watching with parted lips as Hanbin swallowed his taste. “You’re—god, you’re disgusting.” 

Hanbin just smirked. “Liar.” He leaned down, catching Hao’s mouth in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, letting him taste himself on Hanbin’s tongue. “You love it,” he murmured against his lips. 

“So sweet,” voice rough. “Always so fucking sweet for me.” Hao flushed, his spent cock giving a weak twitch at the praise—and at the way Hanbin was looking at him like he wanted to devour him all over again. 

He whined, high and desperate, his hands scrambling at Hanbin’s shoulders, his hips lifting off the bed in a silent plea. “Inside,” he demanded, nails digging in. “Now, now—”

Hanbin chuckled, nipping at his lower lip before pulling back just enough to tease. “Still so impatient.” He lined himself up, the head of his cock pressing against Hao’s slick, stretched entrance—but he didn’t push in. Not yet.

Instead, he dragged the tip through the mess, circling lazily, watching the way Hao’s breath hitched, his thighs trembling with the effort of holding still.

“Hanbin,” Hao gritted out, his voice cracking.

“Hm?” Hanbin tilted his head, feigning innocence even as his cock twitched against Hao’s rim, teasing just the barest hint of pressure. “You want something?”

Hao let out a frustrated noise, his fingers twisting in the sheets. “You know what I want—”

“Do I?” Hanbin dragged the tip lower, rubbing against his perineum, just to hear Hao’s breath stutter. “You’ll have to be clearer than that, baby.”

Hao’s teeth sank into his lower lip, his pride warring with the desperate need coiling in his gut. He hated begging—hated how Hanbin, on certain days, made him unravel like this, reduced to nothing but a whimpering mess beneath him. But Hanbin was relentless, his patience infinite when it came to dragging every last broken plea from Hao’s lips.

Finally, with a shuddering exhale, Hao caved.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice wrecked. “Please, fuck me—”

Hanbin’s grin was downright predatory. “Please what?” He pressed forward, just the barest inch, before pulling back again, laughing at the way Hao’s hips chased him. “Say it properly.”

Hao’s nails raked down his back, his breath coming in short, frantic gasps. “Please—fuck me, Gege, please, I need you—need you inside, please—”

The words spilled out in a rush, desperate and sweet, and Hanbin rewarded him with a deep, filthy kiss, swallowing every last whimper as he finally, finally pushed inside in one smooth thrust.

Hao’s back arched, his mouth falling open in a silent cry as Hanbin filled him, stretching him wide, burying himself to the hilt in one relentless motion.

“There,” Hanbin groaned, his hands gripping Hao’s hips, holding him still as he bottomed out. “Fuck, you take me so good—”

He didn’t give Hao time to adjust—didn’t need to, not when Hao was already clenching around him, his body greedy and pliant, molded perfectly to Hanbin’s cock.

But just to be cruel, just to hear Hao beg again, Hanbin started slow.

Excruciatingly slow.

He pulled out almost all the way, dragging his cock through the tight clutch of Hao’s body, before sinking back in with a lazy roll of his hips.

Hao whined, high and broken, his fingers scrabbling at Hanbin’s shoulders. “Faster,” he demanded, his voice shaking.

Hanbin just chuckled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “No.” Another slow, deliberate thrust, his cock grinding deep inside, hitting that spot that made Hao’s toes curl. “Not until you beg prettier.”

Hao let out a frustrated noise, his nails biting into Hanbin’s skin. “I already begged—”

“Mm, not enough.” Hanbin stilled completely, his cock buried deep, his hips flush against Hao’s ass. “Try again.”

Hao hated him.

With a shuddering breath, Hao tilted his head back, exposing the long line of his throat, his lashes fluttering as he looked up at Hanbin through hooded eyes.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice sweet and broken. “Please, hyung, fuck me harder—I need it, need you to fill me up—”

Hanbin’s breath caught, his grip tightening on Hao’s hips.

Fuck.

Hao knew exactly what he was doing.

With a growl, Hanbin slammed back in, setting a punishing pace, his hips snapping forward in sharp, brutal thrusts. Hao’s moans spilled freely now, loud and shameless, his legs wrapping around Hanbin’s waist, pulling him deeper.

“There—” Hao gasped, his head thrashing against the pillows. “There, right there—!”

Hanbin’s hand slid up Hao’s stomach, pressing down just above his pelvis, right where his cock was buried deep inside. “You feel that?” he panted, his voice rough. “Feel how deep I am?”

Hao nodded frantically, his nails scraping down Hanbin’s back.

“How good am I for you, huh?” Hanbin’s thrusts grew sharper, his cock driving into Hao with relentless precision. “Tell me.”

“So good—” Hao choked out, his back arching. “Fuck me—fuck me so good—”

Hanbin leaned down, his lips brushing Hao’s ear. “Good enough to knock you up?”

Hao’s breath hitched, his hips jerking.

Hanbin grinned, his teeth scraping over Hao’s pulse point. “You already got one baby in here,” he murmured, his hand pressing harder against Hao’s stomach. “Should I put another one in you? Right next to it?”

Hao’s moan was filthy, his thighs trembling.

“Should I plug you full?” Hanbin’s pace turned brutal, his cock pistoning in and out, his balls slapping against Hao’s ass. “Keep you stuffed with my cum all the time? Make sure you never go empty?”

Hao couldn’t even form words anymore—just broken, pleading noises, his body tightening around Hanbin like a vice.

Hanbin groaned, his hips stuttering. “Fuck—gonna fill you up, baby, gonna pump you so full—”

Hao came with a sob, his body clamping down, his cock spurting untouched between them. Hanbin followed with a groan, burying himself deep as he spilled inside, his cum flooding Hao’s already well-used hole, dripping out around his cock as he kept thrusting lazily through it.

When he finally stilled, panting against Hao's neck, Hao let out a weak, oversensitive whimper.  

Hanbin kissed his jaw, his voice smug. "Good boy."  

Hao smacked his shoulder weakly, but couldn't stop the smile tugging at his lips.  

Hanbin pressed one last kiss to his temple before rolling away, though his fingers lingered on Hao's hip like he was reluctant to let go entirely. "Stay there," he murmured. "I'll clean us up."  

Hao made a vague noise of protest but Hanbin was already slipping out of bed, the bedroom door left ajar as he padded down the short hallway to their bathroom. The sound of running water carried through the open door, mingling with the quiet hum of their apartment at night.  

When Hanbin returned, the damp cloth in his hand was warm as he gently wiped the sweat from Hao's skin, carefully cleaning between his thighs where Hao was still sensitive. Hao shivered but didn't pull away, letting himself be cared for in this intimate way, his muscles loose and pliant against the sheets.  

"There," Hanbin murmured, tossing the cloth toward the hamper before sliding back into bed. He gathered Hao against his chest, tucking him into the curve of his body like he was something precious. Hao sighed, boneless, his cheek finding its familiar place over Hanbin's heartbeat.  

For a long moment they simply breathed together, the afterglow settling over them like a second blanket. Then Hanbin's fingers began tracing idle patterns over Hao's stomach, his touch light but purposeful.  

"Tomorrow," he murmured into Hao's hair, "we'll make pancakes with Haneul." His palm settled warm and heavy over Hao's abdomen. "And maybe... we can start thinking about how to tell her she might be a big sister soon. No rush. No pressure. Just possibilities."  

Hao tensed slightly, just enough for Hanbin to notice. Without hesitation, Hanbin shifted until he could see Hao's face in the dim light, their noses brushing as he searched Hao's expression.  

"I know you know," Hanbin whispered, his thumb stroking along Hao's cheekbone, "that I have a thing for knocking you up."  

Hao huffed a quiet laugh, though his breath caught in his chest.  

"But I need you to know—really know—that it's your choice. Always." Hanbin kissed Hao's forehead, lingering there as if sealing a promise. "No matter what I've said, no matter how much I've teased... I won't be happy with this if it's just for me. If you feel swayed. If you're not completely sure." His voice dropped, rough with sincerity. "I want you happy first. Everything else comes after."  

Hao's throat tightened. He reached up to tangle their fingers together, bringing Hanbin's knuckles to his lips in a silent kiss. "I know," he whispered against their joined hands.  

Hanbin studied his face for a long moment before nodding, satisfied. He pulled Hao closer, tucking him securely under his chin where the steady rhythm of his heartbeat could lull Hao toward sleep. "Good," he murmured into the darkness. "Then we're on the same page."  

Hao closed his eyes, letting the warmth of Hanbin's body and the safety of his arms chase away the last lingering doubts. When Hanbin felt the dampness of Hao's lashes against his skin, he said nothing—just held him tighter, his hand splayed protectively over Hao's stomach as they drifted toward sleep together. 

Hao woke up feeling better rested than he had in the whole two months since his symptoms started.

Chapter Text

Week 12

A few days had passed since the pancake breakfast that changed everything. Hao found himself absentmindedly resting a hand on his bump, it's growing bigger but it's still flat enough that one who isn't digging deep wouldn't notice. As he watched Haneul carefully stack her blocks into wobbly towers. The memory of her reaction played in his mind again...

"Mama! Pancakes!" Haneul had cheered, kicking her little legs excitedly in her high chair as Hanbin presented her with a smiley-face pancake. Hao had exchanged a glance with Hanbin before gently asking, "Sweetheart, how would you feel about having a little brother or sister?"

Haneul's eyes had grown comically wide, a glob of syrup dripping from her fork. "Like Peppa Pig!" she'd shouted, nearly toppling her juice cup in excitement. "I share my toys! I show dragons! And-" She'd paused dramatically, whispering like she was sharing a great secret, "No monsters under beds! I stop !"

The pure joy in their daughter's face had warmed something in Hao's chest. Unlike him - an only child who'd often played alone - Haneul would have what Hanbin had with Areum: inside jokes whispered under blankets, someone to team up against parents with, a lifelong ally. The thought made his eyes sting.

Now, as evening fell, Hao settled onto the couch beside Hanbin who was half-watching a drama while scrolling through his phone. Without preamble, Hao took the phone from his hands and set it aside.

"I want to keep the baby," he said simply, watching Hanbin's face closely.

Hanbin's entire expression transformed - his eyes lighting up like fireworks, his smile so wide it crinkled the corners of his eyes. Without a word, he pulled Hao into a crushing embrace, his voice thick when he finally spoke. "Then we'll keep the baby." He pulled back just enough to press their foreheads together. "Our little family's growing."

Hao let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, the last of his doubts melting away as Hanbin's hands cradled his face. "Your mama was right," Hanbin continued softly, referring to the talk they had years ago when he was pregnant with Haneul. "Kids are a blessing. And you..." He kissed Hao gently. "You're going to be amazing. Again."

—---------------------------

The next day Hao stood in front of their shared closet, still in his sleep-rumpled dress, absently chewing his lower lip as he sorted through his shirt options. The faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the quiet clatter of dishes from the kitchen told him Hanbin was already up and moving through his morning routine.  

Hao pulled out two shirts, holding them up to the light with a critical eye. "Hanbin-ah," he called out, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the morning sounds of their apartment. "When are you free next week? We need to schedule the first prenatal appointment, I think we're already late as is."  

In the kitchen, Hanbin paused mid-sip of his coffee, the steam curling around his face as he leaned against the counter. He set the mug down with a quiet clink against the granite, already mentally reviewing his schedule. "Friday morning," he answered after a beat. "I’ve got a class at ten, but I can reschedule it." He reached for his phone, fingers already tapping at the screen to check his calendar. "Do you want me to call Dr. Kang’s office, or do you want to?"  

Hao shook his head,"I’ll do it," he said, emerging from the bedroom with his phone in hand. He rubbed at his eyes, still blinking away sleep. "I want to make sure they know it’s me calling again. Dr. Kang will probably laugh when she sees my name on her schedule after I told her I'm never setting foot there again". Hanbin smirked, reaching out to smooth a hand over Hao’s sleep-mussed hair. "She’ll be thrilled. You were her favorite dramatic patient."  

Hao swatted at him halfheartedly. "I was not dramatic," he muttered, though the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. "I was just… emotionally expressive". Hanbin laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "You cried during every ultrasound. Even the ones where nothing was happening."  

"That’s because it was overwhelming!" Hao protested, though he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. He leaned into Hanbin’s side. "Besides, you weren’t much better. You nearly passed out the first time you heard Haneul’s heartbeat."  

Hanbin’s expression softened at the memory, his arm slipping around Hao’s waist. "Yeah, well,  this time I’ll try to stay conscious." He pressed a kiss to Hao’s temple. "You ready to do this again?". Hao exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around his phone. "Terrified," he admitted. "But… yeah. I’m ready." Hanbin squeezed his hip gently. "Then call the clinic. Let’s get this officially started."  

Hao nodded, scrolling through his contacts until he found the number for Dr. Kang’s office. As the line rang, he reached out blindly for Hanbin’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Hanbin squeezed back, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over Hao’s knuckles.  

"Good morning," a cheerful voice answered. "How can I help you?"  

Hao took a deep breath. "Hi, this is Zhang Hao. I’d like to schedule a prenatal appointment with Dr. Kang, please."  

There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by a delighted laugh. "Zhang Hao-ssi! Welcome back! Let me just pull up your file…"  

Hao met Hanbin’s eyes, his stomach fluttering with nerves and excitement.  They were really doing this again.

—---------------------------

Come Friday, the morning dawned crisp and bright, the kind of spring day that made Hao pause by their bedroom window to watch the sun shining over the trees. Hanbin was already in the kitchen when Hao padded in, the rich aroma of coffee mixing with the buttery scent of toast.  

"Did you pack Haneul's snack?" Hao asked, accepting the mug Hanbin handed him.  

Hanbin nodded toward the counter where a small lunchbox sat ready. "Banana slices and those cheese crackers she likes. And I texted Eomma to remind her not to give her too much sugar, though we both know she'll spoil her rotten the second we're gone". Hao smiled into his coffee. Some things never changed.  

The drive to Hanbin's parents' house was filled with Haneul's cheerful babbling from the backseat. "Halmeoni say we make cookies!" she announced, kicking her feet excitedly against her car seat. "With sprinkles!"  

"Just don't wear her out too much," Hao said, turning to look at her. 

Haneul's eyes went wide. "I good! No tire Halmeoni!"  

As they pulled up to the familiar house, Hanbin's mother was already waiting at the door, flour dusting her apron. Haneul practically launched herself from the car the moment her seatbelt was unbuckled.  

"Be good for Halmeoni!" Hanbin called after her retreating back.  

His father appeared in the doorway, shaking his head fondly as Haneul immediately began recounting her cookie plans at top volume. "She gets more like you every day," he told Hanbin. "Same energy".Hanbin pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I was never that loud."  "Worse," his dad deadpanned. "You were sneaky about your chaos."  

—---------------------------

The comfortable silence that settled between them in the car was broken only by the soft hum of Hao's playlist. He watched the city blur past his window, his fingers absently tracing circles on his stomach. The clinic's waiting room was exactly as he remembered - the same muted pastel walls, the same faint antiseptic smell barely masked by floral air freshener, the same aquarium bubbling quietly in the corner. Hao had just settled into his chair when a voice broke through from across the room.

"First time?" asked a man about their age, his hand resting on the noticeable curve of his stomach. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, but he offered a tentative smile.

Hao shook his head, instinctively covering his own abdomen. "Second, actually. We have a two-year-old daughter already."

The man - Junseo, as Hao would soon learn - let out a hollow laugh. "Lucky you. I'm... well, let's just say I'm doing this solo." His fingers tapped nervously against his chart. "One-night stand who ghosted me the moment the test turned positive." Hao's heart clenched. Before he could stop himself, he was crossing the space between them. "I'm so sorry," he said softly, taking the empty seat beside Junseo. "That's rough. How far along are you?"

"Twenty-four weeks tomorrow," Junseo admitted, his voice dropping. "I didn't even realize until I was nearly four months in. Thought the nausea was just stress from work."Hanbin, who had been quietly observing, leaned forward. "Have you told your family yet?"

Junseo shook his head violently. "God, no. My parents still think I'm focusing on my career. And my friends..." He trailed off, swallowing hard. "They keep asking why I'm not drinking and going out as much. How am I supposed to explain this?" Hao reached out without thinking, placing a hand on Junseo's arm. "Listen, I was terrified my first time too. Couldn't even look at baby clothes without panicking." He glanced at Hanbin, who gave an encouraging nod. "But you'd be surprised how people come through when it matters."

Junseo's eyes shone with unshed tears. "But what if I'm terrible at this? I don't know the first thing about babies. I can barely keep my cactus alive." That drew a laugh from Hao. "Neither could I. But you learn." He counted off on his fingers. "Dr. Kang is wonderful with carrier pregnancies, so you're in good hands. Stock up on easy meals for the first month. And for god's sake, buy the expensive diapers. The cheap ones leak horribly at 3 AM and cause itching and skin bumps."

Hanbin chimed in, "And join the carrier parents group at the community center. We still go sometimes - they have the best advice and free childcare twice a month." Junseo blinked rapidly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You're... you're really okay? Like, parenting hasn't completely destroyed you?"

"Oh it destroys you," Hao said cheerfully. "But in the best possible way." He pulled out his phone. "Here, let me give you my number. Text me anytime - about cravings, or panic attacks, or when you inevitably call your pediatrician because your baby sneezed funny at 2 AM."

As Junseo inputted the number, his hands shook less than before. "Thank you," he whispered. "I didn't realize how much I needed to talk to someone who gets it." Hao squeezed his hand. "We, more than anyone have to stick together. And hey," he added with a grin, "once your little one arrives, they'll have a built-in friend in our Haneul." The nurse called their name then, but not before Junseo pulled Hao into a quick, fierce hug. "You've given me hope," he murmured against Hao's shoulder.

When Hao stood to leave, Hanbin caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "That was really kind of you," he whispered. Hao shrugged, though his eyes were suspiciously bright. "Just paying it forward. Remember how lost we were at first?"

Hanbin's answering smile was soft around the edges as they followed the nurse down the hall, leaving Junseo sitting a little taller in his chair, already typing something into his phone with renewed determination.

The examination room was also exactly as Hao remembered - anatomical posters on the walls, same slightly-too-cold temperature that always made him shiver. He changed into the paper gown with practiced ease, the crinkling material familiar against his skin.

"You okay?" Hanbin asked, his fingers brushing against Hao's bare shoulder as he helped tie the gown. Hao turned to face him, taking in the concern etched into Hanbin's handsome features. "Better than okay," he admitted, reaching up to smooth a wrinkle from Hanbin's shirt collar. "I'm... happy. Really happy." Hanbin's answering smile was so bright it made Hao's chest ache. Before he could respond, the door swung open to reveal Dr. Kang, her white coat crisp and her dark eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Zhang Hao," she announced, shaking her head. "When my receptionist told me you'd booked an appointment, I thought she was joking." Hao rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress his smile. "Nice to see you too, Doctor."

"So," Dr. Kang said as she washed her hands at the small sink, the water running loudly in the quiet room. "Planned pregnancy this time?" She turned off the tap with an efficient twist and reached for a paper towel. Hanbin cleared his throat. "Not exactly," he admitted, his thumb rubbing absent circles against Hao's knuckles.

Dr. Kang's eyebrows shot up as she tossed the towel in the bin. "Ah, so you two just couldn't be bothered with protection, hmm?" Her dark eyes sparkled with amusement as she snapped on a pair of gloves. "I suppose when you've got someone as pretty as your wife here, restraint goes out the window." Hao felt heat rush to his cheeks as Hanbin spluttered beside him. "Doctor!" Hanbin protested, though he was grinning. "That's—we were careful! Most of the time."

"Most of the time being the operative phrase," Dr. Kang chuckled, rolling her stool closer to the exam table. She tapped Hao's knee. "Lie back for me, let's take a look at what your lack of restraint has produced." Hao huffed but complied, settling back against the stiff paper as Hanbin helped adjust the gown. The cold air of the room raised goosebumps along his exposed skin. "You're enjoying this too much," he muttered to Dr. Kang.

"After all the times you cried in my office last pregnancy? Absolutely," she shot back cheerfully as she prepared the ultrasound machine. "Now, any symptoms so far? Nausea? Fatigue?"

Hao nodded, shifting uncomfortably as the cold gel was squirted onto his abdomen. "Both, but not as bad as last time, they were worse at the start but better now." He sucked in a sharp breath, "Still too cold." Referring to the gel. Dr. Kang rolled her eyes but smiled as she picked up the transducer. "You'd think after doing this before, you'd be used to it by now.”

As Dr. Kang adjusted the transducer, the grainy image on the screen slowly coming into focus. "Ah, there we go," Dr. Kang murmured, tilting the screen slightly so they could see better. "Measuring right at… twelve weeks—about the size of a lime now." She pointed to the flickering rhythm on the monitor. "Strong heartbeat at 155 beats per minute, which is perfect for this stage."  

Hao exhaled shakily, his fingers tightening around Hanbin's. "Twelve weeks," he repeated, voice thick. "That means we're already through the first trimester." Dr. Kang nodded, zooming in slightly. "The implantation looks excellent—posterior wall again, just like with Haneul. That's the best possible position for minimal complications." She traced a small shape on the screen. "See that little curve? That's the head. And those tiny nubs are the beginning of arms and legs."  

Hanbin made a choked noise, his free hand coming up to cover his mouth. "Oh my god," he whispered. "It actually looks like a tiny human now." Hao laughed wetly, blinking back tears. "Last time, at twelve weeks, it still looked like a little bean."  

"Every pregnancy develops differently," Dr. Kang said with a smile. "But this one's growing right on track—crown-to-rump length is about 5.4 centimeters." She moved the transducer slightly. "And see that little flutter? That's movement. Baby's already wiggling around in there." Hao's breath caught. "Already? I didn't feel anything yet."  

"You will soon," Dr. Kang assured him. "Probably in the next few weeks, especially since this is your second pregnancy—you'll recognize the sensations earlier." Hanbin leaned down, pressing his forehead against Hao's temple. "Haneul was kicking up a storm by sixteen weeks," he murmured. "This one's probably going to be just as active."  

Dr. Kang chuckled, wiping the gel off Hao's stomach before handing him a tissue. "Everything looks perfect. Placenta's positioned well, amniotic fluid levels are normal, and no signs of any complications." She peeled off her gloves. "Since you're officially out of the first trimester, we can start discussing the next steps—anomaly scan at twenty weeks, glucose screening, all that fun stuff." Hao sat up slowly, still staring at the ultrasound images in his hands. "It's really happening," he whispered.  

Hanbin's arms wrapped around him from behind, his chin resting on Hao's shoulder as he looked at the pictures too. "Yeah," he breathed. "It really is."  

Dr. Kang smiled as she made her notes. "You two take your time. I'll give you a moment."  

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving them in quiet stillness, the rapid thump of their baby's heartbeat still echoing in Hao's ears. Hanbin turned Hao gently in his arms, pressing their foreheads together. "We're having another baby," he said, voice rough with emotion. Hao laughed, tears spilling over. "Yeah," he whispered. "We are.”

—---------------------------

The car ride to Hanbin's parents' house wrapped them in comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of Hao adjusting his seat, looking at the ultrasound picture. Outside, late afternoon sunlight painted the streets gold, while inside the car, warmth settled between them like a shared secret. 

Hanbin's fingers drummed a rhythm on the steering wheel before he suddenly asked, "What do you think we're having this time?" 

Hao turned from the window, one eyebrow arched. "Gender, you mean?" 

"Obviously," Hanbin grinned. "Unless you’ve got a future career path predicted too. Lawyer? Doctor? Violinist? Keeping the legacy of their mama?" 

Hao rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress his smile. "A boy," he declared. "Because... the ultrasound photo looks exactly like the ones I saw on pregnancy forums, when they were having a boy." 

Hanbin burst out laughing. "That's your scientific reasoning?" 

"It's called intuition, mother’s intuition," Hao sniffed.

"You're ridiculous," Hanbin said, shaking his head. But his expression softened as he added, "It's a girl. I just... know." 

Hao turned fully toward him now. "Oh? And what's your brilliant reasoning, Dr. Hanbin?" 

"No reason," Hanbin shrugged, but his cheeks pinked slightly. "Just a feeling. And... well..." He glanced at Hao shyly. "I always dreamed of having three little girls. Two down, one to go?" 

Hao's hand flew out to slap Hanbin's arm. "Yah! Next time you're carrying the baby if you've got such specific plans!" 

Hanbin yelped dramatically but was grinning. "I would if I could! But since I can't..." He reached over to squeeze Hao's hand. "A week of diaper changes says it's a girl." 

"You're on," Hao countered immediately. "And when you lose, you're also doing all the midnight feedings." 

"Deal." Hanbin lifted their joined hands to kiss Hao's knuckles. "But just think - if it is a girl, we could name her after that flower you love. The orange one that was on that restaurant's table." 

Hao's expression softened despite himself. "We're not naming our child after a weed, Bin." 

"It's not a weed! It's—" 

"Focus on the road," Hao interrupted, but he didn't let go of Hanbin's hand. A quiet moment passed before he added, almost shyly, "...Though Haneul would love having a little sister." 

Hanbin's answering smile could have powered the car. As they pulled into the familiar driveway, they could already hear Haneul's excited squeals from inside the house.

Hanbin's mother opened the door before they even reached it, flour dusting her apron and a smile lighting up her face. "There you are! Someone's been asking when her Appa and Mama would come back every five minutes."

Haneul came barreling toward them, her bob bouncing with each step. "Mama! Appa!" she shouted, crashing into Hao's legs. "I make cookies! With sprinkles! And Halmeoni help too!"

Hao scooped her up, pressing kisses to her flour-dusted cheeks. "Did you save any for us, sweetie?"

"Uh-huh!" Haneul nodded vigorously, then leaned in to whisper loudly, "I eat two! Shhh… no tell Halmeoni! ."

Hanbin's father chuckled from the doorway. "She's got your sweet tooth, Hao."

Hao smiled, bouncing Haneul on his hip. "Eomma, are you and Abeoji free next weekend? Maybe Saturday? We'd love to have you over for dinner." He glanced at Hanbin, who went inside the house and was helping gather Haneul's scattered toys. "Areum too, if she can make it."

Hanbin's mother wiped her hands on her apron, eyes narrowing playfully. "What's the occasion?"

"Just because," Hao said, trying to keep his voice casual as Haneul squirmed in his arms. "We haven't had a proper family dinner in a while."

She studied him for a moment before a small smile tugged at her lips. "That sounds lovely. Yes, we’re free next Saturday." She turned back toward the counter, picking up her phone. "I’ll talk to Areum and see if she can make it too."

Hao let out a breath, relieved. "Great.” 

Haneul tugged at Hao's collar. "Mama, I draw picture! Dragon! With sparkles!"

"That sounds amazing," Hao said, adjusting his grip as she nearly wriggled out of his arms. "We'll put it on the fridge when we get home."

Hanbin finally wrestled Haneul's backpack closed and slung it over his shoulder, coming out of the living room. "She didn't give you too much trouble, did she?"

"Never," Hanbin's father said, ruffling Haneul's hair. "Though she did try to convince us that three cookies count as 'just one' if you eat them all at the same time."

As they said their goodbyes, Haneul waved enthusiastically from Hao's arms. "Bye-bye Halmeoni! Bye-bye Harabeoji! See you... see you..." She paused, tiny brows furrowing. "When you come my house!"

Back in the car, Hao carefully buckled Haneul into her car seat as she chattered nonstop. "And then Halmeoni let me put ALL the sprinkles!" flings arms wide "And Harabeoji read me dragon book TWO times! Not one times, TWO!" holds up three fingers accidentally "And I not even cry at nappy! I big kid now!" nods emphatically, then immediately yawns!

"That's my big girl," Hao said, kissing her forehead before closing the door.

He slid into the passenger seat with a quiet sigh. "I invited your parents for dinner next Saturday," he told Hanbin as they pulled out of the driveway. "To tell them the news." Hanbin reached across the console to squeeze his hand. "Good idea. Areum should be back from her trip by then too." From the backseat, Haneul kicked her feet. "Mama! Appa! Look! A birdie!" She pointed excitedly out the window. "It fly! Like dragon! But small. And and no fire."

Hanbin chuckled, meeting Hao's eyes in the rearview mirror. "No fire, huh?"

"Uh-uh," Haneul said seriously. "Dragon goes WHOOSH with fire. Birdie just goes... goes..." She flapped her arms wildly. "Like this!" Hao turned in his seat to watch her, his heart impossibly full. "You're absolutely right, baby. Just like that."

On the way home, Haneul's cheerful commentary filled the car - about the clouds shaped like bunnies, about the red car that went "super fast!", about how she was definitely big enough to have two cookies after dinner. And when her chatter gradually slowed, replaced by soft snores, Hao reached back to gently adjust her blanket. Hanbin kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting on Hao's thigh, his thumb rubbing absent circles through the fabric of his pants. The ultrasound photos crinkled slightly in Hao's bag, a secret soon to be shared, but for now, just theirs - like the quiet joy humming between them in the golden afternoon light.

—---------------------------

The next morning, after Hanbin left for work, golden sunlight filled the living room where Hao sat cross-legged with Haneul. A spread of colorful flashcards lay between them, today's lesson focused on transportation.  

“Okay, baby, look,” Hao said, holding up a card with a bright red train. “This is a train. Choo-choo! What is it?”  

“Train!” Haneul clapped her hands, rocking excitedly on her knees.  

“Good job.” Hao smiled. “And this one?” He lifted a new card.  She squinted at the picture. “Uh… bus?”  

“That’s right! Where do buses go?”  

Haneul’s tiny hands flailed as she thought. Then she nodded confidently. “Everywhere!”  

Hao chuckled. “You’re not wrong.” He reached for the next card, but before he could grab it, Haneul suddenly shuffled through her old animal flashcards instead, picking out a few carefully. Then, with the seriousness of a teacher, she held one up toward his stomach.  

“Now I teach baby.” Hao blinked, caught off guard. “Baby?” He tilted his head. “What baby?” Haneul gave him an exasperated look like he was being silly. She placed both small hands on his stomach and said matter-of-factly, “In here.”  

Hao’s breath caught. His hands instinctively covered hers. “Baby… in here?” She nodded, completely sure of herself. “I hear you and Appa talk. And baby grow in belly.” She nodded again. “Like cartoon.”Hao let out a breathless laugh, amazed. “You’re too smart, my love.” He brushed a stray curl from her face. “Yes, you’re right. You’re going to have a little sister or brother.”  

Haneul gasped, her eyes widening like the sun had just risen. “Really?”  

“Really.”  

A delighted squeal escaped her as she bounced excitedly on her knees. “I big sister!” Hao grinned, pulling her close. “That’s right. And that means you have a very important job now.” Haneul gasped again, even louder. “Job like Appa?”  

“Not like Appa,” Hao chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “But you have to help take care of the baby. You’ll be their first friend, just like Appa is best friends with Auntie Areum. And Mama might feel tired and sick sometimes, so I need my best helper. Can you do that?”  

Haneul nodded so hard her bob bounced. “I help!” She threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug. But then, she pulled back, looking uncertain. Her tiny fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt. “Mama… you forget me?” Hao’s heart ached at the worry in her voice. He cupped her cheeks gently, making sure she was looking at him. “Oh, my sweet girl. Never.” He kissed her forehead, holding her close. “You are our miracle, Haneul.”  

She frowned a little. “What is miracle?”  

“A miracle is something so special, so wonderful, that it makes the whole world better just by being here.” Hao smiled, stroking her hair. “And that’s you.”  

Haneul blinked. “Me?”  

“You.” Hao nodded. “When you were in my belly, the doctors weren’t sure if you’d be okay. But you were so strong, so perfect. And now you’re my big, beautiful girl.” He tapped her nose. “And you will always be my first baby.”  

She studied his face, as if trying to understand something big. Then suddenly, she gasped. “Oh! The baby need learn too!” Before Hao could respond, she scrambled for her flashcards and held one against his stomach. “Baby, this elephant. It big but nice. And this bird, it go fast like airplane.” Hao’s vision blurred with happy tears as he watched her chatter away, explaining each card with all the love in her tiny heart. She pressed her hands gently against his belly, whispering, “I learn you everything. I share all my toys… not Mr. Bun. But you have other toys.”  

Hao let out a teary laugh, kissing the top of her head. “You’re going to be the best big sister ever.” Haneul looked up at him, suddenly serious. “Mama… baby love me?”  

“Oh, baby,” Hao whispered, pulling her into a hug. “So, so much.” He squeezed her close. “And so do I.” Haneul giggled, snuggling into his chest. Then she turned back to the cards, tapping them importantly. “Okay, baby, listen. Car go vroom-vroom, but train go choo-choo…”  

Hao had planned to tell Haneul over dinner this Saturday, when Hanbin’s family would be home, so they could share the moment together. But of course, his baby was too smart—just like him. She had figured it out on her own.  

As she pressed another flashcard against his stomach, chattering away about elephants and birds, she suddenly paused, her brows knitting together. She looked up at him with the same serious expression she always had when she was about to ask a Very Important Question.  

“Mama… where baby come from?”  

Hao blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Oh.” He cleared his throat, smoothing her hair back. “Well… when two people love each other very much, sometimes they decide to have a baby.” Haneul considered this, tilting her head. “Like you and Appa?” Hao smiled, nodding. “Exactly. We love you so much, and we wanted you more than anything. And now, we love you so much that our hearts are growing again to have another baby.”  

She seemed to accept this, nodding like it made perfect sense. Then she patted his stomach again. “Okay. I tell baby about planes now.” Hao let out a breathless laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. As she continued her lesson for the baby, carefully explaining the difference between a bus and a plane, Hao knew this was just the beginning of something truly beautiful.

The rest of the day passed in the usual rhythm of a housewife and a two-year-old. Hao folded laundry while Haneul unfolded it beside him, giggling each time he sighed dramatically. He cooked while she sat on the counter, handing him ingredients—sometimes helpful, sometimes entirely random. In the afternoon, they colored together on the living room floor, Haneul presenting each scribbled masterpiece as if it were the most valuable art in the world. And, of course, there were flashcards—Haneul’s favorite part of the day, where she proudly taught her “baby” everything she knew.  

The sound of the front door unlocking made her head snap up. "Appa!" Haneul immediately abandoned her toys, running straight into Hanbin’s arms as he stepped inside.  

"Ah, my little star," Hanbin murmured, lifting her easily. "Did you behave for Mama today?"  

"Yes!" she declared proudly, before adding, "Very good." Hao laughed, walking over. "She was."  

Hanbin leaned in, resting their foreheads together for a brief moment before pressing a soft kiss to Hao’s temple. "I was thinking," he murmured, "let’s have dinner out tonight. Just the three of us."  

Hao raised an eyebrow, amused. "What’s the occasion?" Hanbin shrugged, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. "I just want to." Hao pretended to think about it before nodding. "Alright. Give me a few minutes to get ready."  

He disappeared into the bedroom, choosing something delicate but effortlessly stylish—a soft, cream-colored blouse with loose, flowing sleeves, the neckline dipping low against his collarbone, paired with wide-legged pants that draped elegantly over his frame.  

Meanwhile, Hanbin attempted to dress Haneul, but as expected, he soon appeared in the doorway, looking mildly distressed. "What should I put her in?"  

Hao, adjusting his hair in the mirror, didn’t even turn around. "The yellow dress with the white flowers." Hanbin blinked. "You knew I’d ask, didn’t you?" Hao smirked. "I always do."  

Soon, they were out the door, Haneul’s little dress swaying as she swung between them, holding both their hands. They arrived at a cozy Thai restaurant, Hao’s favorite, filled with the warm scent of lemongrass and coconut milk. The lighting was soft, the atmosphere peaceful.  

As they waited for their food, Haneul suddenly sat up straight, looking serious. "Appa." Hanbin, in the middle of pouring her a drink, looked up. "Hmm?"  

"I am best sister," she declared proudly. Hanbin blinked. "...What?" His eyes flickered to Hao.  

Hao chuckled, sipping his tea. "She figured it out on her own." Hanbin exhaled, then smiled as he reached out to gently ruffle her hair. "My smart girl."  

Haneul giggled, but then tilted her head, thinking. "Mama say when people love, they have baby."  Hanbin nodded. "That’s true."  

"Then I and Appa baby ?" she asked innocently.  

Hao nearly choked on his tea, while Hanbin chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah, not like that, sweetheart. You’re too young. When you’re much, much older and meet a boy or a girl you love, then maybe you can have a baby. But for now, you’re our baby."  

Haneul considered this, then nodded. "Okay. But I still be best sister."  

"You will," Hao assured, kissing her chubby cheek. "The best."  

The dinner continued with soft laughter and easy conversation, Haneul excitedly listing all the things she wanted to teach her future sibling. Hanbin listened, watching the two of them with quiet love in his eyes. This—this little family—was everything.

Chapter Text

Week 14

The week passed in a blur, and Saturday arrived quicker than Hao expected. The day had barely begun, and yet here he was, pacing around the apartment, his mind running through a mental checklist as he scrubbed, straightened, and fussed over every little detail.  

“Baby, slow down,” Hanbin called from the kitchen, where he was stirring a pot of bubbling stew. “You’re going to wear yourself out before dinner even starts.”  

“I’m fine,” Hao muttered, even as he wiped the counter for the third time in the past ten minutes. Hanbin sighed, turning to their daughter, who was sitting on the floor, playing with a toy spatula and a bowl filled with flour. “Haneul, tell Mama to breathe.”  

Haneul looked up, her cheeks dusted with white. “Breathe, Mama.” Hao huffed, shaking his head. “I am breathing,” Hanbin smirked. “Then why do you look like you’re about to pass out?”  

Hao shot him a look before moving toward the stove. “Focus on the food.” Hanbin chuckled but didn’t push him further. Instead, he reached for a ladle and gestured for Haneul to come closer. “Come here, sweetie. You wanna help Appa stir?” Haneul gasped excitedly and scrambled to her feet, rushing over. Hanbin carefully lifted her, guiding her little hands to hold the wooden spoon as he moved it in slow circles through the rich, simmering broth.  

“Look at you,” he murmured. “A natural chef.” Haneul beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “I cook!” Hao, despite his stress, softened at the sight. His little girl, standing on the counter, her tiny hands covered in flour, her eyes wide with wonder as she helped her father. It was moments like this that reminded him—no matter how overwhelming things felt, this was his happiness.  

But dinner wasn’t going to cook itself.  

He turned back to his own task, carefully plating the side dishes. “Hanbin, check the japchae—don’t let it stick.”  

“Yes, chef.”  

Haneul giggled. “Chef Mama!” 

Hao rolled his eyes but smiled. “That’s right, baby. I’m the chef today”  

—---------------------------

As the hours passed, the apartment filled with the rich aroma of home-cooked dishes—savory stews, fragrant rice, crisp vegetables, and perfectly seasoned proteins. Hao had prepared a traditional Korean spread with a few Chinese dishes, a nod to both their cultures. Just as he was about to move on to final preparations, Hanbin wiped his hands on a towel and stepped behind him, resting his chin on Hao’s shoulder. “Go get ready, love. I’ll take it from here.”  

Hao turned to protest, but Hanbin raised an eyebrow. “I mean it. I’ll handle the rest.” Hao hesitated for a moment, but then sighed, relenting. “Fine. Don’t burn anything.”  

“I would never.” Hao rolled his eyes but left the kitchen, heading to the bedroom. He rifled through his closet and found the perfect dress for the occasion. As he ran his fingers over the fabric of his sundress, the light material flowed like water between his fingertips. It was a soft, muted periwinkle, a color that complemented his fair skin, with delicate embroidery of tiny white flowers along the hem. The dress cinched just under his chest, the fabric cascading down in gentle waves. It was effortless, something that felt both like himself and not—like he was stepping into a slightly different version of his own body.  

And speaking of his body—  

He turned slightly in the mirror, pressing his palm against his stomach.  

Just a week ago, his belly had been a subtle bump, only a hint of change noticeable if he looked. But now? Now it was rounder, undeniably fuller. Not large by any means, but enough that he could see the difference, feel it in the way the dress hugged his waist just a bit tighter. His chest too—his collarbones still sharp, but the shape of his body shifting, softening, his breasts fuller in a way they hadn’t been before.  

He blinked at his reflection, confused.  

What the hell? How did that happen so fast?  

He hadn’t expected to change this much this quickly. It was like his body had just suddenly decided it was time to look pregnant, and now here he was, his belly rounding out overnight like some cruel joke. Before he could dwell on it longer, the sound of a sharp, high-pitched cry made him freeze.  

Haneul.  

Hao’s head snapped toward the door. His daughter rarely cried that loud—she was a quiet, observant child, stubborn but not the type to throw tantrums. His heart kicked up as he quickly clipped in his last earring and rushed down the hall. When he stepped into the bedroom, he found Haneul sitting on the floor, tears streaking down her chubby cheeks, her tiny fists rubbing at her eyes as she sobbed.  

Hanbin was crouched beside her, holding both her hanbok and the light dress she had originally been wearing. His expression was patient but firm.  

“What’s going on?” Hao asked, voice gentle but concerned.  

At the sound of his voice, Haneul turned, her face crumpling even more as she scrambled forward on her knees, grabbing onto his legs. “Mamaaaa!” she wailed, squeezing tight. “Appa mean!”  

Hao crouched down, stroking her dark, wispy hair. “What happened, baby?” Haneul sniffled, looking up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “Appa no let me wear my hanbok.”  

Hao glanced at Hanbin, who let out a small sigh. “I told her it’s not that special of an occasion, and she might be more comfortable in a dress.”  

“But Harabeoji and Halmeoni coming!” Haneul insisted, her little fists tightening against Hao’s dress. “ Today special! Please please please!”  

Hao exhaled, smoothing a hand over her head. She was so stubborn—just like him. And he knew that if he didn’t let her wear it, the whole night would be ruined. 

He met Hanbin’s gaze,  “Just let her wear it.”  

Hanbin gave him a look, like he was hoping for backup, but Hao just shrugged.  

“Fine,” Hanbin muttered, shaking his head. “You win.”  

Haneul’s face lit up instantly, her tears forgotten as she beamed at her father. “Yay!”  

Hao sighed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Go get dressed, troublemaker.”  

And just like that, she was off, running to the mirror with her hanbok in her arms, her earlier meltdown already a distant memory.  

Hao stood up from where he'd been folding Haneul's tiny sweater she threw just then, rubbing his belly absentmindedly as he stretched his back. Hanbin, who was across the room holding up the dress Haneul didn't want to wear and frowning at a suspicious stain, glanced over at the movement. His gaze dropped to Hao's stomach before flicking up to his face, one eyebrow raised in that particular way that always made Hao want to both kiss and pinch him.

"What?" Hao muttered, suddenly self-conscious under the scrutiny.

"You, uh..." Hanbin gestured vaguely with the dress still in his hand before abandoning it on the changing table. "Look different today."

Hao scowled, looking down at himself. "I know I'm showing faster this time, you don't have to—"

Then it happened.

A tiny, unmistakable flutter low in his abdomen. Like the lightest brush of butterfly wings from the inside.

"Bin!" Hao gasped, freezing mid-sentence. Both hands flew to his stomach, fingers pressing lightly against the spot.

Hanbin was across the room in an instant, the forgotten dress fluttering to the floor. "What? Are you okay? Is something wrong?" His hands hovered anxiously near Hao's shoulders, eyes scanning his face for any sign of distress.

"I felt it," Hao whispered, eyes wide with wonder. He grabbed one of Hanbin's wrists and pressed it against his stomach. "The baby—I felt them move. Just now."

Hanbin's face went through an entire journey—concern melting into disbelief, then softening into awe. He held perfectly still, his warm palm pressed against the fabric of Hao's shirt. They stood there in Haneul's colorful bedroom surrounded by scattered toys and tiny clothes, barely breathing.

After a long moment, Hanbin's hopeful expression faltered. "...I don't feel anything," he admitted, sounding so genuinely disappointed that Hao's heart squeezed.

"Of course you don't," Hao said, though he kept Hanbin's hand right where it was. "It's too early for you to feel from the outside."

"Then how did you feel it?" Hanbin asked, his thumb making absent, gentle circles against Hao's stomach. "I thought first movements happened way later."

Hao rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress his smile. "First of all, this isn't my first time. And second, I read that experienced mothers can feel quickening as early as thirteen weeks. I'm fourteen weeks now, so—"

"Wait wait wait," Hanbin interrupted, grinning now. "Since when do you research fetal development? You mocked me relentlessly for reading pregnancy books last time."

Hao felt his ears grow warm. "Since someone left that 'What to Expect' page open on my tablet," he muttered. "And maybe I got curious. Don't make it weird."

Hanbin's free hand came up to cradle Hao's face, his expression unbearably fond. "It's not weird. It's adorable." He leaned in to press a soft kiss to Hao's forehead. "What did it feel like?"

Hao exhaled, his own hands covering Hanbin's where it still rested on his stomach. "Like... like when you pour soda and the bubbles first start rising. Or like..." He frowned, searching for the right comparison. "Like when Haneul would wiggle her fingers against my palm when she was a newborn. That tiny, perfect movement."

Hanbin's eyes got suspiciously shiny. He ducked his head to hide it, pressing his forehead against Hao's shoulder. "I hate that I missed it," he mumbled into Hao's shirt.

"You'll feel them soon enough," Hao promised, carding his fingers through Hanbin's hair. "And then you'll complain endlessly when they start kicking your ribs every time we cuddle.

Lifting his head, Hanbin shot him a watery grin. "Worth it." His hands slid around to cradle Hao from behind, chin hooking over his shoulder as they both looked down at where their second child was quietly making their presence known. "Our little goldfish."

Hao elbowed him lightly. "Don't call them that. What if they come out actually looking like a fish?"

"Then we'll love our beautiful fish-baby," Hanbin said solemnly, before yelping when Hao pinched his arm. "Okay, okay! No fish nicknames. Maybe we can share the news with my family tonight, tell them the baby kicked for the first time.”

Hao turned in Hanbin's arms, cupping his face with his hands, "We're not telling anyone until you can feel it too," he said firmly. Then, softer: "I want you to have that moment." 

The way Hanbin looked at him then—like Hao had hung the moon and every single star—made something warm and bright settle in his chest. Hanbin pressed a lingering kiss to his temple, his fingers trailing down Hao's arm as they finally parted, the ghost of that touch still tingling on Hao's skin as he turned toward the dining room. 

—---------------------------

The table waited, half-set from their earlier preparations. Hao's hands moved automatically now—aligning plates, straightening silverware—each motion carrying the quiet comfort of ritual. His fingers paused on a spoon–

Haneul pouted, looking at him trying to change its placement. “But I like spoon here.”  

Hao sighed, kissing the top of her head. “Okay, fine. Just this time.”  

She grinned in triumph and went back to placing the napkins in her own little way, occasionally pausing to hum a song to herself.  

Meanwhile, Hanbin had disappeared into the bedroom to change. When he emerged, he was wearing a fitted dark blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, paired with black slacks. His hair was neatly styled, and the scent of his cologne followed as he approached Hao.  

"You look nice," Hao said, stealing a glance at him.  

Hanbin smirked. "I know. So do you." 

Hanbin hummed, tilting his head as he glanced between them. “You know… we kinda match.” Hao blinked, looking down at his dress and then at Hanbin’s outfit. A small laugh bubbled out of him. “I guess we do.” 

Hanbin moved closer, tugging at the sleeve of Hao’s dress lightly, brushing his fingers over the fabric.

 “You sure you’re comfortable?”  

Hao scoffed. “If I wasn’t, I would’ve changed.”  

“Fair enough,” Hanbin said, leaning in to press a brief kiss to his temple before stepping back to check the table.  

—---------------------------

Everything was in place, the house was spotless, the food smelled amazing—and just as Hao was taking one last scan of the room, a knock echoed through the apartment.  

Hao took a deep breath and walked over to the door, smoothing down his dress before opening it.  

Hanbin’s parents stood there, smiling warmly, his mother holding a bouquet of white daisies and yellow daffodils.  

“Oh, you didn’t need to—” His mother waved him off. “Nonsense, dear. It’s a little something for you.”  

Hao hesitated before accepting the flowers, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”  

Before he could step aside, Areum peeked out from behind their parents, grinning. “I made it too!”  

“Of course you did,” Hao chuckled, stepping aside to let them in.  

The moment they entered, Haneul came running toward them, her little arms outstretched. “Halmeoni! Harabeoji!”  

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Hanbin’s mother cooed, scooping Haneul up into a warm hug, her husband following her next.

Areum crouched down to Haneul’s level and held out a small box. “I got you something from my trip,” she said, opening it to reveal a tiny beaded bracelet. “I saw it and thought of you.”  

Haneul gasped dramatically before delicately taking the bracelet. “For me?”  

“All for you.”  

With a wide grin, Haneul let Areum slip it onto her wrist before throwing her arms around her aunt. “Thank you, Aunty!”  

“You’re very welcome, little star,” Areum said, ruffling her hair.  

Once they removed their shoes and started heading inside, Hanbin’s mother gave Haneul a once-over before tilting her head in amusement. “And why are we wearing a hanbok tonight, hm?”  

Before Hao could answer, Haneul put her hands on her hips and huffed. “Today special!”  

Hao sighed, shaking his head. “She threw a tantrum, so we compromised.”  

“I win,” Haneul corrected proudly.  

Hanbin chose that moment to step onto the doorstep, his hands slipping into his pockets as he approached his family. “Eomma, Appa.” He greeted them with a warm smile before wrapping his arms around them in a tight hug. “Glad you made it.”   

“Of course,” his father said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”  

As everyone settled at the table, Hanbin’s father looked over the impressive spread, his brows raising slightly in amusement.  

“Hao, this is a lot of food,” he said, glancing at the variety of dishes. “You really shouldn’t have gone through so much trouble.”  

Hao opened his mouth to respond, but Hanbin beat him to it. “Yeah, really, we cooked for hours,” he said, leaning back slightly, looking like he ran a marathon.  

Hao, without missing a beat, reached under the table and pinched Hanbin’s thigh, making him jolt slightly in his seat.  

Hanbin shot him a look, lips twitching, while Hao smiled sweetly at his in-laws. “Nothing I can do for you is ever too much.”  

Hanbin’s mother laughed softly. “You’re too thoughtful, dear.”  

“I just want you to feel welcome,” Hao said, smoothing the napkin on his lap as if he hadn’t just physically reprimanded his husband under the table.  

Hanbin exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly before reaching under the table and giving Hao’s thigh a light squeeze to pay him back—though this time, it was more affectionate than anything.  

Hao bit back a smile, letting himself lean into the warmth of it. The conversation naturally flowed, with Areum talking about her latest trip and showing pictures on her phone. At one point, Hao turned to Hanbin. “Hopefully, we can go on a trip soon too,” he mused.  

Hanbin hummed in agreement, fingers idly tracing small circles on Hao’s thigh. “We should start planning one.”  

Haneul became all excited as soon as she heard of the trip. “Disneyland!” she announced suddenly, making everyone turn to her.  

Hanbin chuckled. “Disneyland?”  

She nodded enthusiastically. “For trip! Mama, Appa, me, and baby go!”  

Areum smirked. “Someone is too excited already.”  

Hao smiled, smoothing down Haneul’s hair. “We’ll see, sweetheart.”  

But Haneul wasn’t done yet. She clapped her hands together as if she had another grand revelation. “And I wear hanbok there!”  

Hanbin’s mother let out a small laugh. “Everywhere?”  

Haneul nodded, completely serious. “Yes. All trips. Hanbok is pretty. I wear it always.”  

At that, the table erupted into soft chuckles, and Haneul’s little brows furrowed. She pouted, looking at them accusingly. “Why laugh?”  

Hao smiled, cupping her cheek. “We’re not laughing at you, sweetheart.”  

Hanbin leaned forward, booping her nose. “It’s just cute.”  

Still, Haneul sulked, looking down at her lap. “So I not pretty?” she mumbled, lips wobbling slightly.  

Hao’s heart clenched, and he immediately pulled her into his lap. “Of course, you’re pretty, baby.”  

Hanbin’s mother reached over, gently patting her hand. “You’re the most beautiful little girl.”  

Areum nodded. “Seriously, you could be a princess.”  

Haneul perked up a little at that. “Really?”  

Hanbin grinned. “Really. But—” He poked her forehead. “Even princesses don’t wear hanbok all the time.”  

She gasped. “They don’t?”  

Hao chuckled. “Nope. Sometimes they wear different dresses.”  

Haneul considered that for a moment before nodding, seemingly coming to terms with it. “Okay… but for Disneyland, I wear hanbok.”  

Areum smiled. “Well, that’s settled then.”  

Hanbin’s father, who had been quietly enjoying his meal, suddenly paused and glanced between Hanbin and Hao with a slight furrow in his brow. He set his chopsticks down and cleared his throat.  

“Baby?” he asked, his deep voice calm yet questioning.  

Hanbin froze mid-bite, his eyes widening slightly before shifting toward Hao. Across the table, Areum raised an eyebrow, looking between them as if she just caught onto something.  

Hao, on the other hand, blinked in surprise before exhaling softly. He gave Hanbin a small, amused glance before turning back to his father-in-law with a sheepish smile. “Surprise?” he said lightly, rubbing a hand over his belly.  

For a moment, there was silence. Hanbin’s mother’s chopsticks hovered in the air as her eyes widened, and Areum nearly choked on her drink before setting it down with an audible clink.  

Haneul, still happily swinging her legs in her Mama's lap, looked around, confused at why everyone had suddenly gone quiet.  

Hanbin sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Toddlers have no filter.”  

His mother was the first to recover, her lips parting in realization before she reached out, gently grasping Hao’s hand. “Oh my goodness,” she murmured, her eyes warm. “You’re pregnant?”  

Hao nodded, still feeling a little shy under all the attention. “Fourteen weeks.”  

Hanbin’s father let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. “Another one, huh?”  

Areum leaned back, smirking. “You two really don’t waste time.”  

Hanbin let out a small cough, reaching for his water. “I mean… it wasn’t exactly planned, but—”  

“But it’s happening,” Hao finished, his hand still resting on his belly.  

Hanbin’s mother finally let out a soft laugh, squeezing Hao’s hand. “I had a feeling when I first saw you.”    

Hanbin’s father nodded approvingly. “Congratulations, we’re happy for you both.”  

Areum, of course, couldn’t resist teasing. “And here I thought Haneul was supposed to be the only one.”  

Before Hanbin or Hao could respond, Haneul perked up again. “Mama and Appa love each other! When people love, they have baby.” She nodded firmly as if stating the most obvious truth in the world.  

The adults chuckled, and Hanbin's mother reached over to ruffle her hair. “That’s… very true.”  

“Smart girl,” his father agreed.  

Hao hid his face in his hands for a second before peeking through his fingers. “I really wasn’t planning on telling you like this.”  

Hanbin grinned, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his temple. “But our daughter is just too smart.”  

Haneul nodded proudly. “Like Mama!”  

—---------------------------

As the dinner carried on, Hanbin’s mother placed her chopsticks down and looked at Hao with a warm but curious expression.  

“Hao, you said you’re fourteen weeks along?” she asked gently.  

Hao nodded, sipping his tea. “Yes, just entered the second trimester.”  

She smiled knowingly. “That explains it. I knew something was different about you when we walked in—you’re seriously glowing, you look radiant.”  

Hao blinked, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “I don’t know about glowing,” he muttered, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear.  

Hanbin smirked, resting his arm behind Hao’s chair. “He is,” he confirmed, looking at his mother. “It’s a little annoying. He doesn’t even try.”  

Hao shot him a look. “I’d rather glow than look like a tired raccoon like when I was pregnant with Haneul.”  

Areum laughed at that, while Hanbin’s father chuckled. “So, have you been feeling okay? Any sickness?” his mother asked.

Hao exhaled, shifting slightly in his seat. “It’s not this bad this time, it was worse in the beginning, but it’s easing up now. I mostly just feel tired all the time.”  

Hanbin’s hand found his thigh again, squeezing gently. “You’ve been pushing yourself too much,” he said, his voice softer now.  

“I’m fine,” Hao reassured him, though he leaned into his touch slightly. “It’s just different this time. My belly grew so fast—I swear I woke up today and it was just there.” He motioned vaguely to himself.  

Hanbin chuckled, glancing at Hao’s belly. “I did think you looked a little different this morning, but I wasn’t sure if I should say anything.”  

Hao shot him a flat look. “Clever choice.”  

“Maybe it’s twins,” Areum teased, grinning as she sipped her drink. Hao huffed, shaking his head. “No way. The doctor didn’t say anything about twins, so it’s most probably just one baby.” He sighed, rubbing his belly absentmindedly.

Areum smirked. “Well, you never know. Maybe the baby just likes being dramatic.”  

“Wonder where they get that from,” Hanbin muttered under his breath.  

Hao elbowed him lightly, making him laugh. “Their father of course.”  

Haneul, who had been swinging her legs and listening intently, gasped. “Baby big! Baby come tomorrow?”  

Areum burst out laughing. “Not that fast, little one.”  

Haneul frowned in deep concentration before dramatically sighing. “Okay! I wait.”  

Hao smiled, brushing a hand over her hair. Then he turned to Hanbin’s parents, eyes twinkling with curiosity. “What was Hanbin like when Areum was born? Was he really all proud and protective?”  

Hanbin groaned. “Oh no.”  

His mother immediately brightened, her eyes filled with fondness. “Oh, he was so serious about it,” she said, turning to Hao. “The moment we told him he was going to be a big brother, he took it like a mission. He’d follow me around, asking how big the baby was every day, and he wouldn’t let anyone touch my belly without his permission.”  

Areum snickered. “He thought he was in charge of me before I was even born.”  

Hanbin crossed his arms. “Well, someone had to be.”  

His father laughed. “When she was a newborn, Hanbin wouldn’t let anyone hold her unless he approved first. Even his grandparents. He used to stand there with his arms crossed, watching everyone like a little bodyguard.”  

Hao turned to Hanbin with amusement. “Really?”  

Hanbin sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I was five. I thought she was fragile and that people weren’t careful enough.”  

Areum grinned. “He even tried to stop Mom from picking me up once.”  

His mother chuckled. “Oh, he did. Stood right in front of me and said, Eomma, be careful. She’s very small.’”  

Hao laughed, eyes sparkling. “You were that protective?”  

Hanbin shrugged. “She was my little sister. It just made sense.”  

Areum rolled her eyes playfully. “And then, as soon as I got older and started annoying you, you changed your mind.”  

Hanbin smirked. “Exactly.”  

Haneul, wide-eyed, turned to Hanbin. “Appa big brother too?”  

Hanbin smiled at her. “I am.”  

Haneul gasped, turning to Areum. “Aunty, Appa take care of you?”  

Areum laughed. “For a while, yeah. But then I got big, and I started annoying him.”  

Haneul clapped her hands. “Me too! I annoy Appa!”  

Hanbin sighed, rubbing his temples, and everyone burst into laughter.  

Hao reached for Hanbin’s hand under the table, squeezing it. “Well,” he murmured softly, “if Haneul is anything like you were, I think our next one is in good hands.”  

Hanbin turned to him, his gaze warm. “You’re in good hands too,” he said just as quietly.  

Hao smiled, and for a moment, the conversation melted away into a quiet, shared understanding between them.  

—---------------------------

When dinner wrapped up and their guests left, Haneul was already nodding off, rubbing at her eyes sleepily. Her energy had finally run out after an entire evening of excitement.  

“I’ll put her to bed,” Hao murmured, brushing her hair back as she leaned against him, completely pliant. “Can you clean up?”  

Hanbin, who was already stacking plates, looked up and gave him a soft smile. “Of course, Baobei.”  

Hao carried Haneul to her bed, carefully tucking her in. The second her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light. He chuckled, smoothing his fingers over her forehead before pressing a soft kiss there. “Goodnight, baby,” he whispered.  

When he returned to the living room, Hanbin was still cleaning up, moving swiftly and efficiently.  

“Go rest, love,” Hanbin said, glancing over his shoulder. “You’ve done enough for today.”  

Hao didn’t argue—his feet were aching from running around all day, and he wasn’t about to turn down rest. He sighed in relief as he sank onto the sofa, stretching his legs out. His fingers pressed into the slight swelling of his feet, massaging them absentmindedly.  

But soon enough, his gaze drifted back to Hanbin, watching the way his husband moved. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong, veined forearms, his muscles flexing with every motion as he wiped down the counters. His jaw was set in quiet concentration, his dark eyes sharp as he worked.  

God. Scrumptious.  

Hao swallowed, suddenly aware of the heat pooling in his stomach. Was it the pregnancy hormones? Maybe. But then again, he was always horny for his husband.  

By the time Hanbin finished cleaning, Hao was still watching him like a cat ready to pounce.  

Hanbin smirked when he noticed, wiping his hands dry. “What?”  

Hao just shook his head, lips curling in amusement.  

Without another word, Hanbin pulled him up from the sofa, wrapping his arms around Hao’s waist as they walked to their bedroom together.  

Hanbin changed first—very, very sadly—into a loose pair of sweatpants before climbing into bed. Hao took his time, removing his earrings, his bracelets, and the delicate rings on his fingers. He caught Hanbin watching him through the mirror, eyes dark and heavy with something tender.  

“You looked so beautiful tonight,” Hanbin murmured.  

Hao glanced at his reflection, meeting Hanbin’s gaze through the glass before turning to face him. Instead of responding, he stepped to the center of the room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting warm shadows on his skin.  

Hanbin’s eyes tracked his every movement as Hao twirled in the middle of the room, letting the fabric of his sundress float around him. He giggled, exaggerating the spin just a little, the hem brushing his thighs as he came to a stop.  

Hanbin, still lying in bed, propped himself up on one elbow, watching him with a slow, lazy smile. His gaze swept over Hao’s body, from his flushed cheeks to the way the dress clung to his slightly fuller frame.  

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Hanbin asked, amusement lacing his voice.  

Hao tilted his head, hands playing with the hem of his dress. “What if I am?”  

Hanbin chuckled. “Then I’d say you’re doing a great job.”  

Hao hummed, swaying slightly on his feet. “Hmm, I don’t know, though. Do you really think I’m pretty?”  

Hanbin’s brow lifted. “Is that even a question?”  

Hao stepped closer to the bed, resting his hands on his hips. “Tell me, then.”  

Hanbin smirked, dragging his gaze up and down his wife's frame before extending his hand. “Come here, baobei.”  

Hao was about to climb into bed, but just as he took a step, he suddenly lifted his foot off the ground, pointing his toes in an exaggerated pose. “What about now? Am I even more beautiful?”  

Hanbin laughed, shaking his head. “Ridiculous.”  

Hao gasped, pretending to be offended. “Ridiculous?!”  

Hanbin reached for him again, but Hao took a playful step back, raising an eyebrow. “You have to work for it, love.”  

Hanbin groaned, sitting up fully. “Baobei, you’re going to kill me.”  

Hao only grinned, spinning one last time before finally crawling onto the bed. As soon as he was within reach, Hanbin grabbed his waist, pulling him into his lap.  

“Having fun?” Hanbin murmured, hands sliding beneath the fabric of Hao’s dress, his thumbs stroking his warm skin.  

Hao wrapped his arms around Hanbin’s neck, leaning in to nuzzle against his jaw. “Mm. I like teasing you.”  

Hanbin chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Hao’s neck. “Evil.”  

“Yours,” Hao corrected, grinning against his skin.  

Hanbin hummed, resting his forehead against Hao’s shoulder. “That you are.”  

They stayed like that for a moment, just wrapped up in each other’s warmth, before Hao finally pulled away, sighing. “I should change.”  

Hanbin loosened his hold just enough to let him go. “Hurry back.”  

Hao slid off the bed and changed into something much smaller—tiny shorts that barely covered anything and a soft, lacy bralette that clung to his slightly fuller chest. As he ran his hands over his arms, he frowned. Why was he so warm all of a sudden?  

Maybe it was the pregnancy. Or maybe—he glanced at Hanbin, who was waiting in bed, bare-chested, his toned arms resting behind his head—it was something else entirely.  

Either way, if he got cold in the middle of the night, at least Hanbin was there to warm him up.  

With that thought, he climbed onto the bed, and Hanbin, already knowing exactly what he needed, pulled him close. His arms wrapped around Hao’s waist, one hand splayed over his belly, the other resting on his back.  

“Better?” Hanbin asked, voice low and fond.  

Hao hummed, pressing a sleepy kiss to Hanbin’s collarbone. “Perfect.”  

Hanbin’s fingers moved in slow, steady circles against Hao’s back, his touch grounding. “Did you have a good day?” he asked, voice quiet, like he was coaxing a secret out of him.  

Hao hummed, pressing a soft kiss to Hanbin’s collarbone. “I did. I love having the family over. And Haneul—” He smiled against Hanbin’s skin. “She was so happy today. It makes me happy too.”  

Hanbin chuckled. “She really thought tonight was a whole festival with that hanbok.”  

Hao exhaled a small laugh. “She’s so crazy.”  

“Says you.” Hanbin’s fingers trailed lazily up and down Hao’s spine. “She gets it from somewhere.”  

Hao rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. For a while, they just lay there, quiet and content, the weight of the day settling around them. Then, after a moment, Hao spoke again.  

“I’ve been thinking,” he murmured, shifting slightly. “We should start looking for a new place.”  

Hanbin’s hand stilled for just a second before resuming its slow motion. “I already started.”  

Hao lifted his head. “And?”  

Hanbin hesitated.  

That silence was enough of an answer.  

“Oh,” Hao said softly, lowering his gaze. His fingers traced idle patterns on Hanbin’s chest. “It’s too expensive, isn’t it?”  

Hanbin exhaled through his nose. “The prices are insane right now. It’s not easy finding something bigger within budget.”  

Hao nodded, chewing on his lip. He didn’t need Hanbin to say more. He already knew the stress of it all weighed heavier on him than he let on.  

“I’m scared,” Hao admitted after a moment. His voice was quiet, like if he said it too loudly, the fear would settle deeper into his bones.  

Hanbin’s grip on him tightened. “Of what?”  

“What if we can’t afford everything? What if it gets too hard?” Hao’s voice wavered, something raw threading through the words.  

Hanbin sighed, pressing a firm kiss to the top of his head. “Baobei, listen to me.”  

Hao stayed quiet, but his fingers curled just slightly against Hanbin’s skin, like he was holding on.  

“It’s my job to make sure we’re okay,” Hanbin said, his voice steady. “To make sure we’re living well. And I will. No matter what.”  

Hao closed his eyes. “I don’t want you to run yourself into the ground for it.”  

Hanbin smiled, the kind of soft, weary smile that comes with love too deep to put into words. “I wouldn’t mind. If it’s for you, for Haneul, for this baby—I’d work until I can't stand.”  

“That’s exactly what I don’t want,” Hao murmured, pulling back just enough to look at him.  

Hanbin sighed, brushing his knuckles along Hao’s cheek. “Alright. I won’t.”  

Hao narrowed his eyes. “Promise?”  

Hanbin chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “I promise.”  

He shifted, tucking Hao closer, his palm resting over the swell of his belly. “I’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “So don’t worry, okay? Just trust me.”  

Hao inhaled deeply, letting the warmth of Hanbin’s touch, the certainty in his voice, settle over him like a blanket.  

“Okay,” he whispered.  

Hanbin kissed his temple. “Good. Now sleep.”  

Hao let out a soft breath, finally letting himself relax. “It was a good day.”  

Hanbin smiled. “It was.”  

Hao curled into him just a little more. “Let’s end it on a good note.”  

Hanbin chuckled, smoothing his palm over Hao’s back in slow, soothing strokes. “We already are.”  

And just like that, with Hanbin’s steady presence wrapped around him, Hao let himself drift into sleep.

Chapter Text

Week 18

Hao’s pregnancy was progressing beautifully. Every test, every scan, every doctor’s visit—they were all perfect. The baby was growing well, and so was Hao. He had a soft glow about him, a kind of serene beauty that made Hanbin fall in love all over again every time he looked at him.  

And the changes? Oh, they were wonderful.  

Hao had always been stunning, but pregnancy had given him this new kind of charm that made Hanbin absolutely weak. His belly was growing more noticeable now, curving gently under the flowy fabrics he had started wearing. Hao had swapped out his usual fitted clothes for soft, comfortable pieces—loose blouses that fluttered when he moved, flowy pants tied gently around his waist, and pastel-colored nightdresses that made him look like a dream. He moved differently now, a little slower, a little more deliberate, like he was always aware of the little life growing inside him.  

Hanbin adored him.  

He adored the way Hao absentmindedly rested a hand on his belly whenever he was reading. He adored the way he hummed softly when cooking, one hand on the counter for balance. He adored how, when Hanbin kissed his forehead, Hao would lean into him with a sigh, his entire body melting into Hanbin’s arms.  

Yes, everything was going smoothly.  

Except for two things.  

The cravings and the hormones. A lethal combination.

At first, they were manageable. A bit of fruit here, a sudden need for ice cream at midnight—nothing Hanbin couldn’t handle. But lately, things had escalated. Hao’s cravings had become unpredictable, wild, and—on some nights—downright dangerous to Hanbin’s sanity.  

Tonight was one of those nights.  

—---------------------------

The apartment was hushed in the deep quiet of the night, the only light coming from the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Hanbin lay stretched across the couch, his fingers gently carding through Hao's hair as his wife nestled against him, wrapped in the comforting embrace of Hanbin's oversized hoodie. Despite the growing swell of his belly, Hao looked almost delicate curled against Hanbin's side, his head resting heavily on his shoulder in perfect contentment.

The peace was shattered by a sigh - the kind that carried the weight of unspoken demands.

Hanbin's fingers stilled. "What is it, Baobei?" he asked softly.

Hao turned his face into Hanbin's neck, lips brushing against warm skin as he murmured, "I want durian."

A beat of silence.

Hanbin exhaled slowly. "My love...it's one in the morning. Can it wait until tomorrow?"

Hao's body tensed against him. "No," he said, voice already taking on that dangerous wobble. "It can't."

"Baobei," Hanbin tried gently, "there's nowhere open that would have fresh durian right now. Let me get it for you first thing in the-"

"You're not listening!" Hao suddenly pulled away, eyes glistening in the dim light. "Our baby is hungry right now," A tear escaped, trailing down his flushed cheek. "I’m literally growing your child, ruining my body for us, and you can’t even do this one tiny thing for me?"

"Hey, hey," Hanbin immediately gathered him close, wiping the tear with his thumb. "Don't cry, please. I didn't mean-"

Hao sniffled, pressing Hanbin's hand against his belly. "It’s literally 1 a.m., and I’m craving durian. Do you think I want to crave durian at 1 a.m.? No! It’s the baby, Hanbin. Your baby wants it.” His voice broke on another sob.

Hanbin's resolve crumbled instantly. He pressed desperate kisses to Hao's damp cheeks, his forehead, anywhere he could reach. "Shh, it's okay. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Of course, I'll go." He cupped Hao's face gently. "I'll find it, I promise. Just please don't cry."

Hao's breath hitched as he buried his face in Hanbin's chest. "I can't help it," he mumbled wetly. "The baby makes me so emotional..."

"I know, I know," Hanbin murmured, rocking them slightly. "My brave, beautiful Hao. Carrying our little one so perfectly." He kissed the crown of Hao's head. "Let me take care of you both, okay?"

When Hao finally nodded against his chest, Hanbin carefully extracted himself, immediately missing the warmth. He dressed quickly, pausing to kiss Hao's puffy eyes before heading to the door.

"Wait!" Hao suddenly called, waddling over with surprising speed. He pressed a thermos into Hanbin's hands - warm tea he must have prepared while Hanbin was getting dressed. "For the road," he whispered, eyes still red-rimmed but smiling softly now.

Hanbin's heart clenched. He pulled Hao close one last time, whispering against his lips, "I love you. Both of you." The thermos burned against his palm as he stepped into the night, its warmth lingering like Hao's touch long after the apartment door clicked shut behind him. 

—---------------------------

Outside, the city had turned hollow. Streets that normally pulsed with life now stretched empty before him, the occasional flicker of a dying streetlight his only company. His breath formed little clouds in the chilly air as he checked yet another shuttered market, the metal gates locked tight against the night. The tea in his thermos had gone cold.

Hopeless.

Every shop was closed. Every supermarket's durian section sat empty. He'd even wandered down that sketchy alley behind the bus terminal where a lone fruit cart sometimes operated after hours - only to find it abandoned, the scent of overripe mangoes hanging heavy in the air.  

The convenience store's fluorescent lights buzzed like angry hornets as Hanbin stared at the sad selection of durian-flavored snacks. His shadow stretched long across the aisle as he surveyed the options - mochi with suspiciously bright yellow filling, freezer-burned ice cream, chips that promised "authentic taste!" in garish packaging that made his empty stomach turn. 

With trembling hands, he gathered what little there was, the plastic bags crinkling like mocking laughter. It wasn't enough. Would never be enough. But the digital clock above the register blinked 3:47 AM in cruel red numbers, and this was all the night would offer him. 

—---------------------------

The way back home tasted like exhaustion. Each step echoed too loud in the sleeping city, the durian snacks heavy in their flimsy bag - a pathetic peace offering for cravings he couldn't properly satisfy. When he finally shouldered open their apartment door, the silence wrapped around him like a second skin. Only the living room lamp still fought against the darkness, casting honeyed light over the scene: Hao curled like a comma on the couch, swallowed whole by Hanbin's hoodie, one hand resting possessively over the gentle curve of their child. The sight punched through Hanbin's ribs straight to his heart.

"Baobei?" Hanbin called softly, toeing off his shoes.  

Hao stirred, blinking sleepily as he sat up. "You're back?" His voice was thick with sleep, hair mussed from the cushions.  

Hanbin knelt before him, brushing a stray lock of hair from Hao's face before pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I brought you something," he murmured, presenting the bag.  

Hao's sleepy excitement made Hanbin's chest ache. He dug through the bag eagerly - then froze.  

"...Mochi?"  

Hanbin swallowed. "Durian flavored. And ice cream. And-"  

"Fake durian." Hao's voice was small, his fingers tightening around the packaging. His bottom lip trembled dangerously.  

"Baobei, I tried everywhere. All the shops were-"  

A single tear rolled down Hao's cheek for the second time that night. Then another.  

Hanbin's world stopped.  

"I just-" Hao's voice cracked as he wiped furiously at his face. "I wanted it so bad. I thought maybe..." A sob cut him off.  

Hanbin gathered him up instantly, cradling Hao against his chest as his wife cried into his shirt. He rocked them gently, murmuring nonsense into Hao's hair.  

"My sweet Hao," he whispered, kissing the crown of his head. "I'm so sorry baby"  

Hao clutched at him, his tears dampening Hanbin's collar. "It's not your fault," he hiccuped. "I'm just...the baby...and..."  

"Shhh," Hanbin soothed, wiping his cheeks with careful thumbs. "Tomorrow morning, I'll go to the market before it opens. I'll buy their entire durian stock. You'll have so much you'll get sick of it."  

Hao sniffled, his pout still firmly in place. "Impossible."  

Hanbin smiled, pressing their foreheads together. "Then I'll keep buying it until our entire apartment smells like durian. Haneul will disown us. The neighbors will file complaints."  

A wet giggle escaped Hao's lips. "You're ridiculous."  

"Only for you." Hanbin kissed him softly. "Now...would my beautiful wife like me to feed him durian ice cream?"  

Hao pretended to consider, his eyelashes still damp. "...Only if you promise to cuddle me after."  

Hanbin's heart swelled. He reached for the ice cream, scooping a small spoonful. "Anything for you," he murmured, holding it to Hao's lips.  

The way Hao's entire face illuminated as he tasted the ice cream - eyes crinkling shut in bliss, a muffled hum of pleasure vibrating against the spoon - etched itself into Hanbin's memory. This. This made every 3 AM convenience store run, every sleep-deprived morning worth enduring.

—---------------------------

When the alarm buzzed at 5:30, Hanbin's hand shot out to silence it before the sound could fully penetrate the quiet bedroom. He held his breath, turning slowly to check on Hao - still deeply asleep, curled on his side with one hand resting protectively over his belly. The morning light filtering through the curtains painted golden streaks across his peaceful face, his lips slightly parted as he breathed evenly.  

Hanbin exhaled in relief. Moving with precision, Hanbin slid out from under the covers. He paused halfway, one leg still on the bed, when Hao made a small noise and shifted. Frozen, Hanbin watched as his husband nuzzled deeper into the pillow, sighing contentedly before settling again. Close call. Dressed in record time, Hanbin paused by the bedroom door for one last look. 

The morning market welcomed him with its familiar chaos at precisely 6:03 AM., the air thick with the scent of fresh herbs, sizzling street food, and the earthy aroma of just-delivered produce. Vendors called out their daily specials as early shoppers navigated the narrow aisles with practiced ease.  

Hanbin moved with single-minded determination, his eyes scanning every fruit stall with increasing desperation. Apples. Bananas. Dragonfruit. No durian. His heart rate spiked with each passing minute. What if they were sold out? What if Hao woke up before he got back? What if-  

Then he saw it. At the very end of the row, an elderly Ajumma was carefully arranging spiky durian husks on a bed of crushed ice. Hanbin nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to reach her.  

"Ajumma!" he gasped, slightly out of breath. "Your durians - are they ripe? Sweet? My wife is pregnant and he's been craving-"  

The woman looked up, her wrinkled face breaking into a knowing smile before he could finish. "Ah, pregnancy cravings." She chuckled, adjusting her sunhat. "My youngest daughter made her poor wife drive two hours for pickled radishes at midnight."  

She picked up a durian, giving it an expert tap with her knuckle before pressing her nose to a small crack in the husk. "This one," she declared, setting it aside. "Perfectly ripe, creamy texture." She selected two more with the same careful inspection.  

As she packed them into an insulated bag, she eyed Hanbin's rumpled clothes and dark circles. "You look like you haven't slept properly in weeks."  

Hanbin laughed weakly, rubbing his neck. "He's been waking up at 2 a.m. for the most random cravings. Last week it was tteokbokki with extra fish cakes, but only from that one stand near our old university."  

The Ajumma tsked sympathetically as she tied the bag. "The things we do for love, hm?" She patted his cheek with a work-roughened hand. "Take these home before your pretty wife wakes up and cries again."  

Hanbin's eyes widened. "How did you know he-?"  

"Pregnant men are all the same," she interrupted with a wave of her hand. "My sister's boy cried for three days because they were out of mango bingsu at his favorite cafe."  

Grinning, Hanbin bowed deeply. "Thank you, Ajumma. You're saving my marriage."  

"Go, go!" she shooed him away, already turning to her next customer. "And feed that wife of yours before he gets grumpy!"  

Clutching his precious durian bounty to his chest, Hanbin took off through the streets like a man possessed. His sneakers slapped against the pavement in time with his racing heartbeat - left right left right, just eight more blocks, just seven, just six - each step carrying him closer to Hao's waiting smile. 

—---------------------------

He burst through their apartment door breathlessly and beaming, the words "I got it!" already dancing on his tongue. Hanbin expected to be met with excitement—maybe even those adorable little squeals Hao made whenever he got what he wanted. After all, he had gone through hell and back to find the damn durian. But instead of happiness, instead of open arms and joyful kisses, he was met with… silence.  

And an unimpressed, extremely grumpy wife sitting by the front door.  

Hao’s arms were crossed over his belly, lips pressed in a thin line, his long lashes casting shadows over his slightly swollen cheeks. He wasn’t just unimpressed—he looked downright displeased.  

“Where were you?" Hao's voice was dangerously calm, his foot tapping an impatient rhythm against the floorboards.

Hanbin blinked, holding up the bag. "I went to get you durian like you wanted?"

Hao stood abruptly, the hoodie swaying around his thighs. "Are you cheating on me?"

The bag nearly slipped from Hanbin's fingers. "What?” His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No words came out - just a strangled noise of pure disbelief.

"Don't lie to me," Hao snapped, tears welling up, the third time in less than 12 hours.

"The signs are all there," Hao continued, pacing now. "You've been taking extra days off work. Coming home smelling like strange perfumes. Staying out late." His voice cracked. "I'm not stupid, Hanbin."

Hanbin's brain short-circuited. "Perfumes?!" was all he managed to choke out.

"Don't play dumb!" Hao snapped. "That musky cologne you've been wearing - it's not yours! And last Tuesday when you said you had a work dinner but came home smelling like jasmine and sandalwood-"

"That was the massage oil!" Hanbin finally found his voice. "From your prenatal spa day! The one I booked for you but you made me goinstead because you were too tired!"

Hao froze mid-step. His angry expression faltered for just a second before hardening again. "And the extra days off? You've taken three this month alone!"

"To go to the doctor's appointments!" Hanbin's voice rose an octave. "The ones where you literally hold my hand through every ultrasound!"

Hao's lower lip trembled. "Then explain why..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Why you've been...distant."

Hanbin's knees nearly gave out. "Distant? Hao, I rub your feet every night! I learned to make those disgusting seaweed smoothies you crave! I-" He ran a hand through his hair, utterly bewildered. "I just spent two hours hunting down durian at dawn!”

A tear slipped down Hao's cheek. “Forty percent," He interrupted, voice cracking.  

Hanbin stared. "...What?"  

"Men are 40% more likely to cheat when their partners are pregnant. Forty percent, Hanbin," Hao whispered, his eyes full of tears now. 

Hanbin set the durian down carefully, his heart pounding. "Baby, listen to me-"

"And don't say it's just hormones!" Hao continued, voice breaking. "I saw the Reddit threads. The stories. Wives who thought their marriages were perfect until-" His breath hitched. "Until they found the texts. The receipts. The-” His hands curled protectively over his belly. "Just tell me the truth. Is it...is it because I'm getting bigger?"  

Hanbin's heart stopped.  

Hao's lower lip trembled. "You always said you liked it when I gained weight. That made me softer. Prettier." Another tear slipped down his cheek. "But now that it's real—now that I'm actually—"  

Hanbin crossed the space between them in two strides, cradling Hao's face in his hands. "Look at me," he demanded, thumbs brushing away tears. "Do you really think I could ever do that to you? To us?"

Hao's lower lip trembled. "The statistics say-"

"I don't care what the statistics say!" Hanbin's voice cracked with emotion. "There's no number, no study, no damn blog post that could ever explain what you mean to me." He pressed their foreheads together. "You're carrying our child. You're my whole world."

Hao sniffled, hands coming up to grip Hanbin's wrists. "But why were you gone so long? The market's only fifteen minutes away and you were gone for-"

"Because I went to three different markets!" Hanbin interrupted. "The first two didn't have ripe durian, and I knew you'd be able to tell if it wasn't perfect. The Ajumma at the third place helped me pick the sweetest ones, and then I had to stop at the convenience store because I remembered we were out of those seaweed snacks you've been craving too and-"

Hao's angry expression faltered. "You...you got seaweed snacks too?"

Hanbin exhaled shakily, reaching into his pocket to produce the small package. "Of course I did. I notice everything about you, Baobei. Every craving, every mood swing, every time you rub your lower back when it hurts." He pressed a kiss to Hao's temple. "There's no part of you I don't love - especially not like this, carrying our baby."

A tear slipped down Hao's cheek as he stared at the snacks in Hanbin's hand. "I...I had this awful dream you were with someone else, and then I woke up alone, and all those articles I'd read just..." His voice trailed off as fresh tears fell.

Hanbin pulled him close, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other resting protectively over his belly. "No more internet searches about cheating spouses, okay?" he murmured into Hao's hair. "Just look at me. Just trust me. That's all I need."

Hao melted into the embrace, his earlier tension dissolving into quiet sobs. "I'm sorry," he whispered against Hanbin's chest. "I know you wouldn't...it's just...everything feels so big right now."

"I know, darling," Hanbin soothed, rocking them gently. "But I'm here. However big it feels, we'll handle it together." He kissed the top of Hao's head. 

"Now, should we try this durian before Haneul wakes up and kills us because of the smell?" Hanbin whispered, nudging the container toward Hao with his elbow. 

Hao pulled back just enough to glare, but his lips were already twitching with suppressed laughter. "You're very very funny," he murmured.

"And you're stuck with me," Hanbin grinned, sealing the declaration with a kiss. When he finally pulled away, he kept their foreheads touching. "Forever," he breathed, watching how the morning light caught the gold flecks in Hao's sleep-soft eyes. 

"Even when our entire apartment smells like a fruit stand's dumpster." Hao's quiet laugh was the best sound Hanbin had heard all morning. "Just open the container already," he said, but his fingers were still tangled in Hanbin's shirt, pulling him closer.

Hanbin made a mental note to have a serious talk about limiting pregnancy forums later. And if he may have accidentally uninstalled Reddit from Hao's phone that night while he slept, well, some protective measures were simply spousal duties.

Week 19

The past seven days had wrung Hao dry—he'd cried more in it than during their entire pregnancy journey combined. Between hormonal surges and the exhaustion that came with the start of the summer heat, every little thing set him off: a sentimental commercial, a dropped spoon, a too-tight shirt, even the way Haneul’s stuffed bunny "looked sad.” By Friday night, when Hao burst into tears because their takeout forgot his extra kimchi, Hanbin decided enough was enough.  

The weather seemed to agree. Golden sunlight spilled through the curtains—not yet hot, just warm enough to promise a perfect day. Hanbin stirred at 7:30 AM, too early for a weekend, careful not to wake Hao as he slipped out of bed.  

He was quietly gathering their picnic blanket when—

Pat-pat. Thud!  

Tiny, off-rhythm footsteps barreled down the hallway. Before Hanbin could turn, two small hands clamped around his calf.  

"Appa! Up! Up!" Haneul demanded, jittering with an urgency. Her hair formed a wild halo around her head, one rosy cheek still bearing the creases of her pillow. 

Hanbin swooped her up in one motion, bringing his free finger to his lips. "Shh, baby. Mama is still sleeping." 

Haneul's eyes went round as saucers. Thoughtfully, she pressed her own pudgy finger against her mouth. "Mama... shhhh ," she breathed, the whisper coming out louder than her normal voice. Her sticky hand found Hanbin's cheek with a wet smack—when had she even had time to get into something sticky?

Then her entire body stiffened with sudden revelation. "Appa!" She gasped, twisting in his arms to point at the window. " Sun up! " The morning light gilded her outstretched finger as if confirming her scientific observation. 

Hanbin caught her wiggling body more securely against his hip, smoothing down her sleep-tousled hair with his free hand. "I know, bug(?). But Mama needs extra sleepy time today." Her little legs started pumping excitedly the moment he shifted her weight. "Want to help Appa first? Then we can wake Mama..." he paused dramatically, "... so gentle ." 

Haneul nodded with grave seriousness, her hair bouncing wildly. "'Gentle," she parroted, the word thick on her tongue. For exactly two seconds, she maintained this solemn vow—before transforming into a tiny, squirming monkey trying to scale his shoulder. "Go! Go go go !" she chanted, tiny fists full of his shirt as she attempted to steer him like he was her own toy car.

—---------------------------

By 8:30 AM, the basket was packed to bursting—cold noodles, fresh fruit, little rice ball sandwiches cut into animal shapes—and Hanbin tiptoed back into the bedroom.  

There, curled into a perfect comma beneath the sheets, was Hao. One arm pillowed his head, his lips slightly parted, his dark hair fanned across the pillow like spilled ink. The rise and fall of his breathing was slow, peaceful. The very picture of a hibernating red panda.  

Hanbin’s heart squeezed. He knelt by the bed, brushing Hao’s bangs aside. “Hao,” he murmured.  

No response. He tried again, a little louder. “Baby.”  

A grunt. A twitch of the nose. Hanbin grinned. “The weather’s perfect today. We should go on a picnic, it's been a while, what do you think?.”  

Hao’s face scrunched up. He burrowed deeper into the sheets. “...No.”  

“Come on,” Hanbin coaxed, rubbing his shoulder. “It’ll be fun. Fresh air. Good food. Haneul’s already dressed and—”  

“Sleeping,” Hao mumbled, voice thick and gravelly.  

Hanbin leaned in, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I already packed everything. Your favorite cold noodles, watermelon—”  

Hao’s nose twitched. “...Spicy fried chicken?” It had become his wife’s latest breakfast obsession. Their fridge was living proof—five half-empty containers, each from a different restaurant, each with a different level of heat that Hao had spent the week dutifully taste-testing.

“Done.”  

“...Those fish-shaped pancakes from the market?”  

“Already in the basket.”  

“...Iced coffee?”  

Hanbin laughed. “Two cups.”  

A long, dramatic pause. Then, with the air of a man being led to his execution, Hao cracked one bleary eye open. "...Fine. But I'm not happy about—"  

"MAMA! UP! UP!"  

Haneul came barreling into the room like a tiny, sock-footed hurricane, launching herself onto the bed before Hao could react. She landed squarely on his stomach, her bumblebee dress a blur of yellow and black.  

"Oof—!" Hao wheezed, instinctively, his hands flew to his belly even as he caught Haneul by the waist. "No-no, sweetie," he said, voice still sleep-rough but firm as he sat her upright beside him. "Baby's sleeping right here." He guided her small hand to press gently against the curve. "Soft touches, okay?"

Haneul's eyes went round. She patted Hao's belly with exaggerated care, then immediately ruined the moment by hopping on her knees. "Baby wake up now?" she demanded, poking where she'd just been told to be gentle.

"Baby wakes up when they want to," he said, tapping her nose.

Haneul giggled, already forgetting what they were talking about. "Mama! Sun up! Go! Go park!".

Hao groaned, dragging himself out of bed with Haneul clinging to his toe. He shuffled toward the bathroom at the speed of a sleep-deprived sloth— 

—only for Haneul to suddenly spring back to life, watching him with wide, fascinated eyes. She tilted her head, then took two exaggerated, wobbly steps, mirroring his sluggish pace. 

"Mama... walk... so... slow," she announced, puffing her cheeks out. "Like... like... grandpa turtle!" 

Hao froze mid-shuffle and stared down at his tiny critic. "Did my own baby just call me old?" 

"Slow turtle!" Haneul confirmed with a proud nod before dissolving into giggles. For added effect, she plopped onto her padded bottom and began crawling in slow motion, peeking up at him with sparkling mischief. "See? Like Mama!" 

Hanbin appeared just in time to witness Hao’s betrayed expression. "Oh no, is someone being the speed police today?" he teased, scooping up their giggling menace. Haneul pressed her face close to Hanbin’s, their noses touching. "Mama... zzzzz," she declared, puffing exaggerated sleepy breaths before suddenly bouncing back. "Appa fast! Zoom zoom!" 

Hanbin, barely containing his laughter, intercepted her before she could launch another attack on Hao. He caught her mid-wiggle and blew a loud raspberry on her tummy, sending her into another fit of shrieking laughter. "Alright, bug," he chuckled, adjusting her in his arms as she squirmed. "Enough terrorizing Mama. Let him wake up in peace." 

Hao finally escaped into the bathroom, and when he emerged, he looked significantly more alive—and radiant. The soft yellow sundress he wore, which normally would’ve skimmed above his knees, now, rode up to mid-thigh thanks to the gentle swell of his belly.He looked like sunshine personified.  

Hanbin stared.  

Hao raised an eyebrow. “What?”  

“Nothing,” Hanbin said, grinning. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”  

Hao rolled his eyes, but his cheeks pinked. “Dress up,” he ordered, pointing at Hanbin’s current outfit—a ratty old t-shirt and sweatpants. “You’re not going like that.”  

Hanbin saluted. “Yes, sir.”  

He turned toward the closet, ready to grab the first decent shirt he saw, when Hao suddenly hmphed behind him.  

“No,” Hao said, crossing his arms. “The black one.”  

Hanbin blinked. “Which black one?”  

“The nice black one,” Hao insisted, as if that clarified anything.  

“Hao, I have like twelve black shirts.”  

Hao’s lower lip jutted out. “The one with the little white stripes. The one you wore to the park last month. The one that—”  

“Baby,” Hanbin sighed, amused, “a shirt is a shirt.”  

Hao’s eyes narrowed. Then, after a weighted pause, he stepped close, until he stood directly before Hanbin placing both hands on his chest. His voice dropped to something soft, almost shy.  

“I want us to match,” he murmured. “So when we take pictures today, everyone can see how perfect we look together.”  

Hanbin’s heart melted.  

“Oh,” he said weakly.  

Hao blinked up at him, all big eyes and pouting lips, and Hanbin was done for.  

“Okay,” Hanbin breathed, pressing a quick kiss to Hao’s forehead before turning back to the closet with renewed determination. “Black shirt. White stripes. Got it.”  

Hao smirked, victorious. Haneul, who had been watching this entire exchange with the solemn focus of a tiny judge, nodded approvingly. “Appa. Mama win.”  

Hanbin sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Always.”  

—---------------------------

The moment they arrived at the park, Hao practically ran out of the car, the golden sunlight catching in his hair as he spun around with his arms outstretched. "It’s perfect!" he declared, grinning at the wide, grassy field dotted with cherry blossom trees. The petals drifted lazily in the breeze, and the air smelled like fresh grass—summer’s warm embrace wrapping around them.  

Hanbin watched, heart impossibly full, as Hao flitted between spreading their picnic blanket under the generous shade of an old oak, and chasing after Haneul, who had immediately taken off toward a flock of pigeons like a tiny, determined general. "Haneul, slow down!" Hao called, but he was laughing, his voice light in a way Hanbin hadn’t heard in weeks.  

"Careful, it's slippery here," Hanbin warned, steadying Hao with a hand at the small of his back as they navigated the slight slope. The earth still held the morning's moisture, releasing the rich, damp scent of summer soil with every step.

Hao sighed contentedly as he settled onto the blanket, stretching his legs out with a small groan. "I swear this baby gets heavier every day," he mused, rubbing absent circles over his rounded belly. The dress he wore fluttered slightly in the warm breeze, sticking occasionally to his skin with the summer humidity.

Hanbin knelt beside him, already unpacking their basket with practiced efficiency. "Not much left to go," he reminded Hao, pressing a quick kiss to his temple. "Then you'll miss having them so close all the time."

Hao made a noncommittal noise, but his expression softened as he watched Hanbin arrange their brunch. A sudden shriek of laughter drew their attention to where Haneul was attempting to chase fireflies, her sundress fluttering around her like butterfly wings. "Appa! Look! Sparkle bugs!" she called, pointing excitedly at what was undoubtedly just a particularly shiny beetle.

Hanbin chuckled, calling back, "Very pretty, baby! But come eat before the watermelon gets warm!"

As Haneul came barreling toward them, grass stains already decorating her knees, Hao leaned back on his elbows, tipping his face up to the sky. "God, I feel like I haven’t seen the sun in years," he murmured. The warmth painted his skin gold, highlighting the freckles he drew on.

"That’s because you’ve been hibernating," Hanbin teased, popping a strawberry into Hao’s open mouth before he could protest.  

Hao chewed, then stuck his tongue out. "Rude. I was busy growing a whole human." He patted his belly for emphasis.  

Haneul, crawled into Hao’s lap, her tiny hands immediately reaching for the pancakes. "Mama, num-num?"  

"Yes, baby, num-num," Hao cooed, breaking off a piece for her. She took it with both hands, nibbling carefully before deciding it was acceptable and shoving the rest into her mouth. 

—---------------------------

When the sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting everything in that golden, honeyed light that made even ordinary moments feel like memories. Hao sat up abruptly from where he’d been lounging against Hanbin’s shoulder, his eyes suddenly alight with purpose.  

"We need to take the picture," he announced.  

Hanbin, mid-bite into a slice of watermelon, blinked. "What picture?"  

"The one I’ve been planning all day," Hao said, as if this were obvious. He dug through his bag with single-minded determination before pulling out a sleek professional camera—one Hanbin definitely hadn’t seen him pack.  

"Since when do you—? Wait, when did you even put that in there?" Hanbin sputtered.  

Hao waved him off. "While you were obsessing over the picnic basket. I have priorities." He shook the camera for emphasis. "And my priority today is a perfect summer picture. One we can hang up. Put right on the mantel where everyone can see it."  

Hanbin opened his mouth—probably to tease him for being secretly sentimental—but the look on Hao’s face stopped him. There was something fiercely soft in his expression, a quiet insistence that this mattered.  

"Okay," Hanbin said, smiling. "Let’s do it."  

Hao scanned the park, then zeroed in on a young couple nearby taking turns posing dramatically under a tree, their laughter carrying on the warm breeze. "Them," he decided. "They look like they know how to work a camera."  

"Because they’re doing peace signs in every photo?" Hanbin deadpanned.  

"Exactly," Hao said, already marching over, Haneul toddling after him with her usual gravitational pull toward chaos.  

The couple—a pair of college-aged girls with matching sunflower pins in their hair—beamed when Hao asked if they’d mind snapping a quick photo. "Of course!" one said, accepting the camera with reverence. "We’ll make you look pretty."  

Hao herded Hanbin and Haneul into position beneath the grand old oak tree, its branches heavy with summer leaves. "Here," he directed, adjusting Hanbin’s grip on Haneul’s waist. "Hold her like—yes, just like that. And turn a little—no, the other way—"  

"Bossy," Hanbin muttered, but he was grinning as Haneul giggled and kicked her feet.

Hao stepped in close, his hand finding Hanbin’s free one, lacing their fingers together. "Ready?" he murmured.  

The photographer counted down—"Three, two—"  

And then, right on cue, Haneul spotted a squirrel.  

"PUPPY!" she shrieked, twisting violently in Hanbin’s arms to point at the very confused rodent. Hanbin barely caught her before she face-planted into the grass, his grip slipping as Hao burst out laughing, his head thrown back, the sound bright and unguarded.  

The camera clicked.  

"Oh my god," Hanbin groaned, imagining the blurry disaster. "We have to retake—"  

"No," the photographer interrupted, grinning as she handed over the camera. "Trust me. This is the one."  

And there it was: Hanbin mid-laugh, his arms wrapped tight around their wiggling daughter, Hao radiant with joy, the sunlight catching the edges of them like a halo.

Hao’s breath hitched. "We’re framing this," he said, his voice rough.  

Hanbin kissed his cheek, then Haneul’s. "Yeah," he agreed, his chest tight. "I love it."  

After carefully tucking the camera into his bag, Hao let out a contented sigh and flopped backward onto the blanket, his head landing squarely in Hanbin's lap. 

"Mission accomplished," He declared, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied grin. Above them, cherry blossom petals spiraled lazily through the air, catching in Hanbin’s hair as he carefully wove together a flower crown from the wildflowers he’d plucked nearby.  

"You’re going to poke my eye out," Hao mused, watching Hanbin’s fingers work with sleepy amusement.  

Hanbin scoffed, flicking a daisy at him. "I’ve made these for you a hundred times, and you’ve never lost an eye."  

"Yet," Hao countered, but he was smiling as Hanbin gently placed the finished crown atop his head, adjusting it with exaggerated care.  

"There," Hanbin murmured, brushing a thumb over Hao’s cheek. "My princess."  

Hao’s nose scrunched, but his eyes sparkled. "Ew."  

"You love it."  

Hao didn’t deny it. Instead, he sighed, tilting his face up toward the sky. "I wish I could play outside again," he said softly. "Just… set up on a street corner with my violin like I used to. This weather—it’s perfect for it."  

Hanbin’s fingers stilled in his hair. It had been a while—years, really. Between parenthood and the chaos of life, Hao’s violin had stayed tucked away more often than not.  

"Play for us when we get home," Hanbin said. "Just me and Haneul. And then…" He grinned. "Maybe we sneak you out to busk again. For old times’ sake."  

Hao laughed, bright and surprised. "You’d stand there and pretend to be my adoring audience?"  

"I am your adoring audience," Hanbin corrected, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. "I’ll even put money in your case."  

"Wow, big spender," Hao teased, but his voice was warm.  

Nearby, Haneul let out a triumphant shriek as she finally managed to corral a duck toward them but the duck waddled away immediately. She flopped onto the blanket beside them, her cheeks pink from running. "Mama! Duck no listen!"  

Hao sat up just enough to scoop her into his arms, flower crown askew. "Ducks are notoriously bad listeners, my love," he informed her gravely.  

"Like Mama,” Hanbin added.  

Hao gasped. "Lies."  

"Mama zzzzz," Haneul interrupted, mimicking Hao’s earlier snoring with impressive accuracy before dissolving into giggles.  

Hanbin burst out laughing as Hao groaned, flopping back into his lap onto the blanket in defeat. "I’ve created a monster."  

And as the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in pastels, they stayed like that—tangled together on the blanket, talking about nothing and everything. About how Haneul was growing too fast. About the bakery they should visit next weekend. About how Hao would play his violin again, and Hanbin would cheer too loudly, and maybe, just maybe, life didn’t have to be so different now than it was before.  

"We should do this every weekend," Hao murmured again, later, as Hanbin packed up the basket and Haneul dozed against his shoulder.  

Hanbin smiled. "We will."  

Chapter Text

Week 20

The afternoon sun filtered through the cafe windows as Hao accepted the paper bag from Mrs. Lee, their favorite barista. The elderly woman's eyes crinkled as she slipped an extra pain au chocolat into his order. "For the baby," she whispered, patting his hand. "You're carrying so beautifully, dear." Heat rushed to Hao's cheeks, painting them the same delicate pink.

Hao had never felt more alive. At twenty weeks pregnant, his body thrummed with energy - his skin glowing, his features softening with that impossible radiance everyone kept sighing over. His appetite had Hanbin cooking double portions every night. Physically, mentally, emotionally - he was thriving. Sure, his mind raced with a thousand what-ifs and scenarios, but beneath it pulsed a steady, singing joy.

No one admired this transformation more than Hanbin. Just last Thursday, Hao had caught him frozen in their doorway, two mugs of tea forgotten in his hands, gaze dark as it tracked the strip of exposed skin where Hao's, originally Hanbin's, t-shirt rode up during his prenatal yoga.

"You," Hanbin had said, voice rough as he set the mugs down with deliberate care, "are playing dirty."

Hao had only laughed, stretching deliberately further just to watch Hanbin's pupils blow wide.

Now, as he crossed the sun-dappled plaza toward Hanbin's workplace, pastry bag in hand and ultrasound photos from each appointment safely tucked in his wallet, Hao couldn't stop smiling. Today will be a good day.

The universe, it seemed, had other plans.

—---------------------------

Hao had dressed carefully, knowing full well the effect it would have. The buttery-soft leggings clung to his thighs like a second skin, the subtle sheen drawing attention to the new fullness of his hips. Hanbin’s favorite thin sweater—the dove gray one that smelled like his cologne—slouched off one shoulder, the neckline stretched just enough to expose the delicate dip of his collarbone. A warm breeze teased the sweater’s hem as he walked, revealing flashes of his rounded belly beneath. Not enough to be indecent. Just enough to make Hanbin’s breath catch when he noticed. Which he always did.

He'd forgone shoes entirely, opting instead for simple black slides that showed off his freshly painted toenails - a deep, glossy red that made his skin look even paler in contrast.The memory alone was enough to make heat curl low in Hao's stomach. That had been an interesting discovery. Hanbin had painted them for him the night before, kneeling between his spread thighs with that focused intensity he usually reserved for work. Hao had never pegged Hanbin as someone with a thing for feet, but then again, they'd always been an experimental couple.. well…let's just say the pedicure hadn't been the only thing that ended up messy. Hao made a mental note to revisit that particular kink later

The moment Hao stepped into the dance studio's lobby, the usual cacophony of music and chatter stuttered to an awkward halt.  

Jungwoo - one of Hanbin's coworkers who had never quite mastered the concept of boundaries - was the first to react. His gaze dragged up Hao's body with a slow, appreciative leer that made Hao's skin crawl.  

"Damn, Hao," Jungwoo whistled, leaning against the reception desk with a smirk. "If I'd known pregnancy looked this good on you, I would've put a baby in you myself."  

The room went dead silent.  

Hao barely had time to process the comment before Hanbin was there, moving with a predator's grace that sent several students scrambling out of his way. He didn't raise his voice - that was somehow worse. When Hanbin got truly angry, his voice dropped to something low and dangerous.  

"What did you just say to my wife?"  

Jungwoo’s bravado cracked. "Jesus, it was just a joke—"  

"Then laugh." Hanbin stepped closer, the tendons in his neck standing rigid. "Let’s hear how funny it is, say it again to my face.”   

Hao stepped forward then, sliding his hand into Hanbin's back pocket in that way he knew always grounded him. "Baby," he murmured, pressing close enough that Hanbin could feel the curve of his belly against his hip. "We have an appointment, remember?" he murmured, lips brushing Hanbin’s jaw.

A sharp exhale through his nose. Hanbin's fingers tightened around Hao's waist like a vise, steering them both toward the exit without another word to Jungwoo. The automatic doors hissed open to reveal the parking lot.

Hao stumbled slightly on the uneven pavement, his shoes offering no traction. Hanbin's grip didn't loosen, even as Hao tried to shrug him off.  

"Slow down—" 

"Not here." Hanbin's voice was steel wrapped in velvet as he clicked the car unlock button. The headlights flashed once, illuminating the determined set of his shoulders.  

The car door slammed shut with finality. Hanbin started the engine with a sharp twist of the keys, the mechanical growl cutting through the thick silence between them. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Hao turned his face to the window, watching the studio's bright neon lights give way to the blurred streaks of city storefronts.

Silence. 

Then—  

"You knew." Hanbin's voice was low, dangerous in the confined space.  

Hao kept his face turned toward the passenger window, watching the studio's neon sign flicker through the glass. "Knew what?"

"Don't play stupid with me." Hanbin's grip tightened until the leather creaked. "You knew Jungwoo's been obsessed with you since day one. The way he lingers when he 'accidentally' brushes against you. How he always finds excuses to touch you—fixing your hair, adjusting your clothes." His voice dropped to a growl. "That comment today wasn't some offhand joke. It's been building for months, and you've never shut him down. Not once."  

Hao finally turned, eyes flashing. "Oh, so now I'm responsible for his pathetic crush?"  

"You're responsible for setting boundaries!" Hanbin's voice cracked like a whip. "Every time he crosses a line, you laugh it off and every time you let him touch you like he has some right—"  

"I don't let him do anything!" Hao's hands flew up. "Should I start screaming every time someone looks at me wrong? Would that satisfy your fucking ego?"  

Hanbin slammed his palm against the steering wheel. "This isn't about ego! He looks at you like he wants to devour you, and you—" His voice broke. "You dressed like that today knowing full well he'd be there. That sweater barely stays on your shoulders, and those leggings—"  

"Ah, there it is." Hao's laugh was razor-sharp. "If you don't like how I dress, maybe you shouldn't have married someone who enjoys being looked at."  

The words landed like a physical blow. Hanbin recoiled. "That's not—"  

"Or is the real problem that you don't trust me?" Hao leaned in, voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Afraid I might actually enjoy the attention? That I might—"  

"Stop." Hanbin's voice was raw. "Just fucking stop."  

The words hung suspended in the air between them, sharp as shattered glass.  

A heavy silence descended, broken only by the rhythmic click of the turn signal as Hanbin pulled into the clinic parking lot. The building loomed before them - all sterile white walls and gleaming windows, their reflection warped in the glass as the car rolled to a stop.  

The engine idled. Neither moved.    

Hao finally spoke, icy calm. "You don't get to police my clothes or my smiles or how I handle men who mean nothing. Either you trust me, or you don't."  

Hanbin's hands tightened on the wheel until his knuckles turned white. "It's not that simple," he ground out. "This isn't just about trust, Hao. You practically humiliated both of us back there."  

Hao scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh please, stop being dramatic. Jungwoo's an idiot who runs his mouth. Since when do we care what he thinks?"  

"Since he made it public!" Hanbin snapped, finally turning to face him, his dark eyes burning. "He disrespected you—disrespected us—in front of everyone, and you just stood there and let him. If you can't see why that's a problem, then that's the real issue here."  

Hao crossed his arms, leaning back against the car door. "You're overreacting. You just woke up on the wrong side of the pillow today."  

Hanbin let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "Stop dismissing me like I'm some moody child. This isn't about me being in a bad mood, Hao. This is about basic respect."  

"Respect?" Hao shot back, his voice rising. "You don't get to demand respect from me when you're acting like a possessive jerk!"  

"Possessive?" Hanbin's voice dropped dangerously low. "I'm not the one parading around in clothes that—"  

"Oh, here we go again!" Hao threw his hands up. "You're obsessed with what I'm wearing. Maybe you're the one with the problem, not me."  

Hanbin's jaw clenched. "You're twisting my words. This isn't about the clothes, Hao. It's about the way you let him talk to you like that. Like you were—"  

"Like I was what, Hanbin?" Hao's voice was sharp, cutting. "Like I was asking for it? Like I wanted it?"  

Hanbin exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "That's not what I'm saying."  

"Then what are you saying?" Hao challenged, his eyes flashing. "Because right now, all I'm hearing is that you don't trust me to handle myself."  

"I don't trust him!" Hanbin nearly shouted, slamming his palm against the steering wheel again. "And I don't understand why you're so hell-bent on defending him instead of us!"  

Hao's nostrils flared, his patience snapping. "I'm not defending him! I'm defending my right to exist without you dictating how I should react to every idiot who looks at me!"  

Hanbin shook his head, his voice dropping to a bitter whisper. "You didn't even flinch, Hao. Not even a little. That's what kills me."  

Hao stared at him for a long moment before unbuckling his seatbelt with a sharp click. "You know what? We're done here. I'm not doing this with you right now."  

Hanbin's voice was rough. "Of course you're not. Because when things get hard, you just walk away."  

Hao froze, his hand on the door handle. Slowly, he turned back, his expression cold. "No, Hanbin. I'm walking away because you're looking for a fight where there isn't one. And I don't have the energy for your insecurities today."  

He yanked the door open with enough force to make the hinges groan, stepping out into the humid afternoon air. The car rocked slightly as he slammed the door shut behind him, the impact echoing across the nearly empty parking lot. 

Hao didn't wait, striding toward the clinic entrance with sharp, measured steps. Behind him, he heard Hanbin's car door close with more controlled force, followed by quick footsteps catching up but maintaining careful distance.

The automatic doors parted with a mechanical sigh, blasting them with refrigerated air that smelled of antiseptic and artificial lemon. The sudden temperature change raised goosebumps on Hao's arms as they crossed the threshold. Hao strode straight to the reception desk without glancing back, his shoulders rigid. Hanbin followed a few paces behind, hands shoved deep in his pockets, jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth.

"Zhang Hao," Hao announced to the nurse, his voice clipped. "We have a 5:15 appointment."

The nurse blinked at their stormcloud expressions but typed efficiently. "Ah yes, Dr. Kang's next. If you'll just—"

"Can we go straight in?" Hao interrupted. "We're already late."

To her credit, the nurse took one look at Hao's white-knuckled grip on his bag and Hanbin's thunderous silence and nodded. "Of course. Right this way."

—---------------------------

The exam room was cold. Hao changed into the paper gown with sharp, jerky movements, the crinkling fabric the only sound. Hanbin didn't offer to help tie the back like he usually did—just slumped in the plastic chair, scrolling mindlessly through his phone, the blue light casting harsh shadows under his eyes.

Dr. Kang entered with her usual warm smile that faltered instantly. "Well! You two look... ready to meet this baby," she tried, glancing between them as she washed her hands.

"Mm," Hao said at the same time Hanbin grunted, "Sure.”

Dr. Kang adjusted her stool as the ultrasound hummed to life. "Alright, let's get started with our routine check. First, I'll measure the baby's growth and check all the major organs." The wand glided over Hao's belly as black-and-white images flickered across the screen. "There's the four-chamber heart... good blood flow through the umbilical cord... kidneys look perfect..."

Hanbin stood rigidly near the door, arms crossed. Hao stared resolutely at the ceiling, the paper gown crinkling with every tense breath.

"Baby's measuring right on schedule at 20 weeks 3 days," Dr. Kang continued cheerfully, though her eyes kept darting between them. "Have you been keeping up with light exercise, Hao?"

"Yoga. Daily." Hao's clipped answer hung in the air.

"That's excellent for pelvic flexibility," Dr. Kang nodded, tapping measurements into the computer. "Any swelling in your hands or feet? Unusual headaches?"

"Nothing unusual." 

She turned the screen slightly. "See these little white spots? That's baby's spine developing beautifully. And here—" she pointed to a blinking rhythm, "—that strong 145 BPM heartbeat is textbook perfect."

Hanbin's posture softened for just a second before hardening again.

Dr. Kang zoomed in between the legs. "Well! This is one cooperative baby. The gender is very clear if you'd like to—"

"No." Hanbin's voice cracked like a whip.

Hao's head snapped up. "Yes. Tell us."

Dr. Kang's grip tightened on the wand. "Perhaps we should—"

"I said tell us," Hao nearly screamed out, nails digging into the exam table paper.

The doctor exhaled sharply, then turned off the monitor with a decisive click. "I'll write it down for you. But this is usually a joyous moment, and I won’t be the one to let your fight ruin it." She scribbled the gender on a slip of paper, then stood. "I’ll give you a moment while I print today’s ultrasound."  

The door shut behind her with a soft click.  

The moment Dr. Kang left, the room became a warzone.  

Hanbin stepped in front of Hao, blocking his path to the clothes. "We had a deal." His voice was low, shaking with barely leashed fury. "No finding out. Not until the birth."  

Hao yanked that damned sweater over his head, the fabric catching on his ear in his haste. "Deals change."  

"Not unilateral ones." Hanbin snatched the paper gown from Hao’s hands before he could ball it up. "This was our decision. Not just yours."  

"Funny how it’s our decision when you want control," Hao spat, shoving past him to grab his pants, but my body when it’s convenient."  

Hanbin’s laugh was bitter. "That’s what you think this is about? Control?"  

"Isn’t it?" Hao whirled on him, leggings half pulled up. "First my clothes, now this—"  

"It’s about respect!" Hanbin’s fist slammed against the supply cabinet, sending a tray of gauze rattling. "Respect for our plans! For each other! Or did you forget there’s two of us in this marriage?"  

Hao froze. "Oh, I haven’t forgotten." His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "But maybe you forgot which one of us is growing a human inside their body right now."  

A knock. Dr. Kang hovered in the doorway, ultrasound photos in hand. The tension was so thick she physically recoiled.  

"I’ll just—" She set the images on the counter and backed out. "Front desk has your paperwork."  

The second the door closed, Hao snatched the envelope. Hanbin stepped into his space, close enough that Hao could feel the tremor in his hands where they hovered, not touching. "Open that envelope," he said, voice deathly calm, "and I walk out of this clinic. Out of this room. Try me."  

Hao’s fingers tightened around the ultrasound photos, the paper crinkling in his grip. "You don’t get to make ultimatums."  

"I just did." Hanbin’s breath hitched, ragged. "This was the one thing I asked for. One. Were you ever going to keep a single promise to me, or was that just for show?"  

Hao flinched—finally, a crack—but his voice was steel. "You don’t get to play victim when you’ve been treating me like a fucking problem all day."  

Hanbin laughed, sharp and hollow. "You are being one. Because you’d rather win than be my partner."  

The words landed like a gut punch.  

Hao recoiled, the envelope slipping from his fingers to the floor between them. "Then why the hell did you marry me?"  

Silence.  

He turned on his heel and left—no slammed door, no dramatic exit. Just the quiet click of the latch.

—---------------------------

The car ride was suffocating.  

No yelling, no accusations—just the hum of the engine and the occasional sniff from Hao, who had turned his face toward the window the moment they got in. Hanbin kept his grip tight on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched so hard it ached.  

At a red light, the car rolled to a stop. The sudden stillness made the tension even more unbearable.  

Hao cleared his throat. "We're out of milk." His voice sounded foreign even to himself - flat and drained.  

Hanbin's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror instead of looking at him. "What?"  

"Milk," Hao repeated, swallowing around the thickness in his throat. "Haneul needs it for breakfast tomorrow."  

A muscle jumped in Hanbin's jaw. "Fine."  

The light turned green. The car jerked forward a little too abruptly, the sudden motion making Hao's stomach lurch. He pressed a hand to his belly instinctively, feeling the faint flutter of their baby's kicks beneath his palm - a cruel reminder of why they'd gone to the clinic in the first place.  

Thirty silent minutes later, they pulled up to the familiar brick facade of Hanbin's parents' home. The walk from the car to the front door felt endless, their footsteps out of sync on the paved path.    

The warmth of Hanbin's parents' home wrapped around them as soon as the door opened, the comforting scents of ginger tea and homemade dumplings a stark contrast to the chill between them.  

"Mama! Appa!" Haneul came barreling toward them, her usual exuberant greeting faltering mid-step as she took in their expressions. She clutched her well-loved bunny tighter to her chest, her bright eyes - so much like Hao's - darting nervously between them.  

Hao forced his lips into something resembling a smile as he crouched down. "Did you have fun today, baobei?"  

She nodded slowly, her small fingers plucking at his collar. "Halemoni read me...the dragon story," she murmured, her voice losing its usual animated lilt. After a hesitant pause, she added in a whisper, "You...you mad?"  

Behind them, Hanbin's posture went rigid near the doorway.  

Hao gathered her close, pressing a kiss to her hair that lingered a second too long. "No, my love. Mama and Appa are just...very tired tonight."  

Haneul didn't look convinced, but she buried her face in his neck anyway, her small body unusually still as they said their goodbyes.  

In the car, she climbed into her car seat without her usual protests about buckling up. She held her bunny in a death grip, watching them with wary eyes through the rearview mirror.  

"Appa?" Her small voice broke the silence after several minutes. "Mama...okay?"  

Hanbin's grip on the wheel tightened momentarily before he forced it to relax. "We're all fine, sweetheart," he said, the nickname slipping out automatically even as his voice sounded strained.  

Hao stared resolutely out his window, offering no reassurance.  

The remaining drive passed in stifling stillness, broken only by the occasional sniffle from the backseat as Haneul, sensing the unnatural tension, quietly cried herself to sleep.  

—---------------------------

When Hanbin finally eased the car into their driveway, the tires crunched over gravel with startling loudness. The house stood dark and silent as they pulled into the driveway, the only illumination coming from the neighbor's flickering porch light across the street. 

Hao was out of the car before Hanbin could even remove the keys, moving with stiff efficiency as he grabbed his bag from the backseat - careful not to disturb their sleeping daughter. Hanbin watched through the windshield as his wife disappeared into the house, the sharp click of the car door echoing in the quiet night.  

With a slow exhale, Hanbin unbuckled and moved to Haneul's side. She was curled awkwardly in her car seat, her favorite stuffed bunny clutched in a death grip, her cheeks still damp from earlier tears. Normally she'd be whining about being carried inside at her age, demanding to walk by herself like a "big kid." Tonight, she didn't stir as he carefully unbuckled her, her limbs limp with exhaustion.  

As he lifted her, she instinctively nuzzled into his chest with a quiet sigh that made his heart clench. The walk to the front door felt impossibly long, Haneul's warmth seeping through his jacket as he fumbled with the keys one-handed.  

The moment he stepped inside, he heard it - the low murmur of Hao's voice speaking rapid Chinese from behind their closed bedroom door. Even from this distance, Hanbin could pick out the occasional phrase through the walls:  

I don't know what he wants from me anymore...  

A pause, then a wet sniffle that made Hanbin's stomach twist.  

No, I didn't look ...  

Another pause, longer this time. Then, so quiet Hanbin almost missed it:  

He wouldn't even look at me the whole drive home .  

Haneul shifted in his arms, her sleepy mumble of "Appa?" pulling him back to the present. He carried her to her room on autopilot, moving through the familiar bedtime routine with mechanical efficiency - pajamas, teeth brushing, one last sip of water. She was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow, her bunny tucked securely under her arm.  

Hanbin stood in the doorway of her room for a long moment, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. Down the hall, Hao's voice had faded into silence, leaving the house feeling hollow.  

Hanbin hesitated outside their bedroom door, his knuckles hovering just before the wood. He could hear the faint rustling of fabric inside—Hao moving around, the quiet tap of his phone being set down.  

He knocked once, softly, before pushing the door open.  

Hao was perched on the vanity stool, still in his clothes from earlier, his phone clutched loosely in his hand. His eyes flicked up when Hanbin entered, dark and unreadable, before immediately looking away.  

Hanbin didn’t speak. Just crossed the room to their dresser, grabbing his sleep clothes and a towel before disappearing into the bathroom.  

—---------------------------

The shower was scalding, the water pounding against his shoulders as he braced his hands against the tiles. He didn’t know what he was doing. Didn’t know how to fix this. All he knew was that Hao hadn’t eaten since lunch, and even if they weren’t speaking, he couldn’t let him go to bed hungry.  

By the time he emerged, skin flushed and hair damp, Hao had immediately followed after him to shower.

Hanbin didn’t linger. Just padded silently to the kitchen, pulling out bread and cold cuts with mechanical movements. He made the sandwich exactly how Hao liked it—extra pickles, a thin smear of mustard, the crusts cut off because Hao always complained they were too dry. He set it on a plate, left it on the table with a glass of water. A peace offering.  

When he returned to the bedroom, Hao was already under the covers, his back turned to the door. Hanbin had barely stepped inside before a pillow and a bundled-up blanket were shoved unceremoniously into his chest.  

He blinked down at them, then at Hao, who hadn’t even turned around.  

"…What’s this?" Hanbin asked, though he already knew.  

Hao’s voice was flat. "You’re sleeping on the couch."  

Hanbin’s grip tightened on the blanket. "It’s not necessary."  

"Well, we’re not sharing a bed tonight," Hao snapped, finally twisting to glare at him. "Unless you want your pregnant wife to sleep on the couch instead?"  

The words hung between them, sharp as a blade.  

Hanbin opened his mouth, then closed it. There was nothing to say. Nothing that wouldn’t make this worse.  

So he just turned, pillow and blanket in hand, and shut the door quietly behind him.  

The couch was too short for him, the cushions unfamiliar. He stared at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of movement from their bedroom—the creak of the bed, the sigh of fabric.  

—---------------------------

By 2 AM, Hanbin had given up on sleep.

The couch was too stiff, the silence too loud, and the empty space beside him a gnawing reminder of the fight that had driven them apart tonight. In five years together, they'd only gone to bed angry once—after that disastrous argument when Hao had secretly maxed out his and Hanbin's credit cards to buy an antique violin he swore was a "once-in-a-lifetime investment."

But this? This was different. This fight had left something raw and aching inside him. 

Hanbin padded barefoot to their bedroom, hesitating only for a moment before pushing the door open. Moonlight spilled across the bed, illuminating Hao curled on his side—facing the door, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy, tear tracks glistening on his cheeks. The sight twisted something deep in Hanbin's chest.

He crossed the room silently, sinking onto the mattress beside him. Calloused fingers brushed through Hao's mussed hair, tucking a stray strand behind his ear.

"I'm sorry," Hanbin murmured, voice rough with exhaustion and regret. "I didn't mean to raise my voice. Didn't mean to hurt you with my words."

Hao opened his mouth, but Hanbin pressed a gentle finger to his lips.

"Let me finish," he whispered. "You're already going through so much—the hormones, the back pain, carrying our baby. Instead of being understanding, I threw accusations at you." His thumb swiped under Hao's damp lashes. "I'm the proudest husband in the world to have you. And yes, I get jealous. Possessive. I'm working on it. But I love you—everything about you. Please forgive me."

Hao made a broken noise deep in his throat before launching forward, burying his face in Hanbin's neck. "No, baobei, I'm the one who should apologize," he hiccupped, fingers clutching Hanbin's shirt like a lifeline. "I understand why you reacted like that. I just—I froze when he said it. I didn't react because I was processing how disgusting it was. I don't want anyone's attention but yours. And I'm so sorry I almost broke our deal. I've never done that before—I wouldn't—please don't be mad at me—"

Hanbin sighed, his grip tightening around Hao. "It’s not you I was mad at." He exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead against Hao’s. "I just—I hate him, Hao. I hate Jungwoo. You don’t see the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention, the way he throws remarks at me when you’re not there. And tonight—tonight was the worst. The way he spoke, the way he smirked like he was waiting for me to snap—I lost it. And then the thought of him thinking he could put his hands on you, on my wife —I couldn’t stand it."

Hao pulled back just enough to see Hanbin’s face, his own expression crumpling with guilt. "I should have shut it down faster. I should have—"

Hanbin shook his head, cutting him off with a thumb brushing over his cheek. "You shouldn’t have to. It’s not your fault. I just—" He swallowed hard. "I couldn't handle the thought of anyone ever thinking they had a claim to you. You’re mine. And I know, I know how that sounds, but I love you so much it makes me crazy sometimes."

Hao melted against him again, his breath warm against Hanbin’s throat. "I love you too. And I promise, next time, I’ll shut it down immediately. I just—I hate conflict, and I froze, and I never meant to hurt you."

Hanbin let out a shuddering breath, pressing soft kisses to Hao's temple, then his cheek, then the corner of his lips. "Sometimes, I wish I could keep you inside forever. Lock you away where no one else can see you. Just—just me and you and our babies. No Jungwoo, no prying eyes, no one thinking they have a right to even look at you."

Hao shuddered, a deep, involuntary tremor. His fingers tightened in Hanbin’s shirt. His voice, when he finally spoke, was barely more than a whisper. "Like an attic wife?"

Hanbin’s breath hitched. He pulled back just enough to search Hao’s face, to see the flush rising high on his cheekbones, the way his lips parted slightly.

"You like that idea?" Hanbin murmured, testing.

Hao swallowed, a spark of something dark and thrilling passing between them. His breath came unsteadily, fingers still gripping at Hanbin’s shirt like he was holding himself together. He exhaled, eyes flickering with something raw. "It’s—intense. But maybe... a part of me does. And that’s terrifying."

A slow, knowing smile curled at the edges of Hanbin’s lips, but he didn’t push—just let his fingers trail lightly down Hao’s spine, keeping him close. "Then it’s something we can talk about. If you want to."

Hao buried his face in Hanbin’s shoulder again, letting out a small, shaky laugh. "I married a lunatic."

"You love this lunatic," Hanbin countered, warmth threading through his voice.

"Unfortunately."

Hanbin chuckled, kissing his hair. "You didn't eat," he murmured. "I made you a sandwich. Extra pickles, no crusts."

Hao sniffled, nuzzling closer. "I don't deserve you."

"You deserve everything."

Hanbin fetched the sandwich, watching with a fond smile as Hao devoured it happily, crumbs scattering on the sheets. When they finally settled under the covers, Hao’s back curled into Hanbin’s chest, their baby fluttering between them like a second heartbeat. Hanbin’s palm found its familiar place on the swell of Hao’s stomach, fingers tracing idle patterns.  

Then—thud. A sharp little kick, stronger than he expected.  

Hao let out a soft oh and stilled. “Did you—?”  

“Yeah,” Hanbin chuckled, pressing his hand more firmly where the movement had been. Another swift nudge answered him, and he shook his head in amusement. “This one’s already troublemaking. Haneul was never this active.”  

Hao laughed, covering Hanbin’s hand with his own. “Haneul just lulled us into a false sense of security. This one’s making up for it.”  

As if to prove the point, another series of kicks fluttered under their palms—quick, insistent. Hanbin grinned, remembering how Haneul would only stir lazily, as if too comfortable to bother. But this baby? They were already demanding attention.  

“Definitely your energy,” Hanbin murmured, kissing the curve of Hao’s shoulder.  

Hao elbowed him lightly. “Or yours. Remember how you used to pace for hours when Haneul wouldn’t settle?”  

Hanbin didn’t argue, just nuzzled closer, his palm still warm against Hao’s skin. The kicks had slowed now.

Hao sighed contentedly. “It’s a boy,” he whispered into the dark.  

Hanbin scoffed. “No, it’s a girl.”  

Hao turned his head just enough to glare. “It’s a boy.”  

“It’s a girl.”  

“Boy.”  

“Girl.”  

Their bickering melted into tired laughter, limbs tangled, whispers fading into drowsy murmurs.

Chapter Text

Week 23

After their ‘ small’ fight, Hao and Hanbin had settled back into their usual, disgustingly affectionate rhythm—so in love it made their people groan in protest. Now at 24 weeks, Hao’s pregnancy was still progressing beautifully, every need anticipated before he could even voice it. Hanbin had become a man possessed—stocking the fridge with Hao’s latest cravings before they even hit, massaging his swollen feet at night, and pressing endless kisses to the growing curve of his belly like it was his personal religion.  

Haneul, ever the observant little guardian, had taken to standing sentry whenever they went out. The moment someone so much as glanced at Hao for too long, her tiny hands planted firmly on her hips, her brow furrowed in a perfect imitation of Hanbin’s don’t-test-me glare. "My mama!" she would announce loudly, much to Hao’s embarrassment. "No touch! No look! Only Appa!"  

But for all the doting and devotion, pregnancy still came with its own little rebellions—stubborn stretch marks like battle scars, sleepless nights spent chasing comfortable positions, and the daily frustration of opening his closet only to remember nothing fit quite right anymore. Not his favorite jeans, not his go-to skirts, and certainly not—

Hao sighed deeply as he shifted on the couch, wincing when the hem of his once-loose shirt rolled up to expose the rounded swell of his belly. The fabric—soft and worn from years of wear—now pulled taut across his stomach, the seams straining like they might burst at any moment. Even his favorite sweatpants - Hanbin's technically, stolen years ago during that cold winter and never returned - had turned traitor, their waistband digging angry red trenches into his hips that still throbbed hours after he peeled them off.

"Uh-oh," came a tiny voice from the floor where Haneul was coloring. She crawled over on her knees, patting Hao's swollen ankles with sticky hands. "Mama owie?"

"Just a little, baby," Hao smiled, scooping her up. Her tiny fingers immediately went to poke his protruding belly button. "Baby getting too big for Mama's clothes."

Haneul's eyes went wide. "New clothes! Go shopping!" She wriggled out of his lap, running to fetch their shoes - one of Hao's slides and her tiny sandal clutched to her chest. "Now now!"

Hao chuckled as he heaved himself up, one hand supporting his aching back. "Alright, let me just tell Appa first." He pulled out his phone, texting Hanbin: 

"Taking Haneul to the mall for some maternity clothes. Might look at baby things too. Don't wait up for dinner"

The reply came quickly: 

" Take it easy and let me know if you need anything. I'll grab dinner on my way home. Love you both."

Hao smiled at the message, tucking his phone away with a quiet sigh. It still pinched sometimes - the realization that he no longer had his own income like he used to before becoming a housewife. Back when he'd had his own career, his own paychecks to spend or save as he pleased. Now their household ran on Hanbin's salary alone, though his husband never let him feel the weight of that imbalance.

Hanbin had been quietly setting aside money each month, transferring generous portions of his paycheck into their joint savings without fail. "For whatever you need," he'd say whenever Hao hesitated at the ATM, pressing a kiss to his temple. "It's our money, not just mine." He'd even set up automatic transfers after noticing Hao sometimes put off asking for funds when Hanbin was busy.

Just last week, Hao had found a sticky note on their bathroom mirror in Hanbin's messy scrawl: "Transferred 600$ - buy that prenatal massage you've been eyeing. You're working harder than I am, growing our baby. I love you."

—---------------------------

Hao's heart swelled with warmth at the memory as he carefully adjusted Haneul's sunhat, tucking a stray curl behind her ear before they stepped through the glass doors of the upscale maternity boutique. The air inside carried the subtle scent of lavender fabric softener mingled with the crisp newness of freshly unpacked garments. His fingers trailed absently over the neatly folded stacks of clothing as they entered, each touch revealing fabrics softer than the last - whisper-thin cottons, buttery-soft knits, and flowing linens that promised comfort for his ever-changing body.

Haneul immediately darted toward a display of flowing summer dresses, her tiny hands petting the pastel fabrics with reverence. "Mama, feel!" she demanded, grabbing his wrist to drag his fingers across an airy chiffon skirt in the palest peach. The fabric cascaded like water through his fingers, the delicate ruching along the sides designed to accommodate his growing bump without clinging. He could already imagine how it would flutter around his thighs on warm afternoons, how the waist would skim comfortably over his belly rather than dig in like his current clothes.

"These are perfect for Mama's tummy," he murmured, selecting several in soft hues - a dove gray, a blush pink, and one in cornflower blue that made Haneul clap her hands in delight. The little girl immediately began piling more items into their cart with the single-minded determination of a personal stylist, including a sleeveless linen wrap dress in cream that tied just below the bust. "Pretty Mama!" she declared, patting the fabric proudly.

As they moved through the store, Hao found himself drawn to the racks of specialized maternity wear. His fingers lingered on a pair of black leggings with a wide, ultra-soft waistband that promised not to roll down no matter how much his belly grew. The fabric stretched effortlessly between his fingers, and he could already imagine the relief of wearing something that didn't constrict his swelling hips. Nearby, a selection of tailored blouses caught his eye - one in particular, a silky ivory button-up with hidden side panels that allowed for expansion, seemed perfect for the occasions he needed to look polished.

Haneul, meanwhile, had discovered a display of cozy knitwear and was attempting to drag an oversized cardigan in the softest shade of lavender toward their growing pile. "Mama cold sometimes!" she explained seriously, her little brow furrowed with concern. Hao's heart melted as he added it to their collection, along with a few basic tank tops in breathable cotton and a lightweight duster jacket in khaki that could be layered over anything.

Their next stop was the intimate apparel section, where Hao hesitated before selecting a few essential items. The wireless nursing bras in nude and black promised comfort with their seamless construction and wide, supportive bands. He added a pack of stretchy sleep bras as well, his chest already tender and sensitive in his twenty-second week. But then his gaze caught on something else entirely - a display of lingerie that made his cheeks flush warm.

Tucked between sensible cotton briefs and supportive shapewear hung a cherry red babydoll set that stole his breath. The delicate lace bodice plunged daringly at the neckline, with thin satin straps that would barely cover his shoulders. The matching panties featured the same sheer lace with a satin bow at the front, the high-cut legs designed to accentuate his curves rather than conceal them. Even now, with his belly gently rounded and his hips fuller than before pregnancy, Hao could imagine how the scarlet fabric would contrast beautifully against his skin, how Hanbin's eyes would darken at the sight. Before he could second-guess himself, he added it to their pile, tucking it discreetly beneath a stack of more practical items.

"Mama, what's that?" Haneul's curious voice piped up immediately, her tiny finger pointing at the flash of red lace peeking out from under a folded sweater.

Hao felt heat creep up his neck. "Just... special pajamas for Mama," he hedged, quickly covering the lingerie with a receiving blanket from the baby section.

Haneul nodded sagely. "For Appa?" she asked with the devastating perceptiveness only a child could possess.

Hao nearly choked on his own saliva. "Something like that," he managed weakly, steering their cart swiftly toward the checkout before she could ask more questions. As they waited in line, Haneul entertained herself by carefully arranging and rearranging their items in the cart, her little tongue poking out in concentration as she tried to fold a receiving blanket just like she'd seen Hao do.

The cashier's cheerful voice broke through his thoughts. "That'll be 3,150$ please."

The number hit Hao like a physical blow. His fingers tightened around the cart handle as his brain struggled to process the amount. Three thousand? How had it added up so quickly? His eyes darted over their haul - the dresses, the leggings, the jackets, the bras, and yes, that damn lingerie set that suddenly seemed like the most frivolous purchase imaginable. His stomach twisted with guilt as he thought of Hanbin working late nights to build their savings, of the careful budget they tried to maintain.

He should put things back. The jacket. The extra dresses. Definitely the lingerie. But when he glanced behind him, the line stretched halfway across the store, filled with impatient-looking shoppers checking watches and sighing loudly. The thought of unpacking their carefully selected items under their judgmental stares made his skin prickle with humiliation.

With trembling fingers, Hao pulled out his phone and transferred the money from their joint savings, the one Hanbin had been diligently contributing to every pay period. The payment was processed with a cheerful beep that felt like condemnation.

"Would you like your items bagged separately?" the cashier asked brightly, already folding the red lace set with terrifying efficiency.

"No, just - all together is fine," Hao mumbled.

Hao barely had time to process the weight of the shopping bags in his hands before Haneul was tugging at his sleeve, her tiny fingers insistent. "Mama, you promise!" she whined, pointing excitedly to the brightly lit baby boutique right next door. The storefront was adorned with pastel-colored onesies displayed in miniature clotheslines, tiny socks no bigger than Hao's palm strung up like festive banners. "Baby clothes now! You said!"  

Hao sighed, forcing a smile. "Alright, baby, but just for a little bit, okay?"  

The moment they stepped inside, Haneul took off like a rocket, her sandals slapping against the polished floor as she beelined for a display of animal-themed onesies. Hao followed at a slower pace, his earlier guilt still gnawing at him as he glanced around. The store was packed—new parents and grandparents browsing through racks of impossibly small outfits, their carts already overflowing with pastel blankets, plush toys, and diaper bags that cost more than some of Hao’s own purses.  

Haneul reappeared moments later, clutching a tiny white onesie covered in embroidered yellow ducks, its little hood lined with soft faux feathers to mimic duckling fluff. She shoved it into Hao’s hands with the gravity of a royal decree. "For baby! Look, Mama, ducky feet!" She pinched the little attached footies between her fingers, eyes sparkling.  

Hao couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. "You’re right, it’s perfect," he murmured, running his thumb over the delicate stitching. It was adorable—the kind of thing Hanbin would coo over before immediately demanding they buy it in every color.  

Hao's fingers trembled slightly as he turned over the price tag on the duck onesie. 130$. His breath caught in his throat. Hundred and Thirty dollars for a single outfit their baby might wear just a handful of times? He blinked hard, wondering if he'd misread the tag, but no - the sleek black font clearly displayed the staggering amount.

As Haneul happily babbled about how soft the fabric was, Hao's eyes darted to other items nearby, his heart sinking further with each discovery:

A simple three-pack of organic cotton bodysuits: 350$. A premium bamboo swaddle blanket: 420$. Tiny leather-soled booties that would fit for maybe a month: 220$. 

Even the most basic necessities had prices that made his stomach churn. A package of 30 premium diapers? 99$. The same brand they'd used for Haneul three years ago had been half that price. When had everything become so unreasonably expensive?

Hao's mind raced with calculations. The three thousand he'd just spent on himself could have bought all the essentials for their coming baby. That cherry red lingerie set alone had cost 550$ - enough for nearly two months’ worth of diapers. The beautiful linen maternity dresses he'd purchased at 220$ each suddenly felt like unforgivable indulgences.

"Mama, look!" Haneul's voice pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. She held up a ridiculously tiny sunhat with a price tag of 55$. "For baby's head!"

Hao forced a smile, gently placing it back on the shelf. "Let's... let's just get the duck outfit today, okay? We'll come back with Baba later." His voice sounded strained even to his own ears.

At the register, the cashier scanned their single item. "That will be 130$. Would you like to join our membership program? For just 370$ annually, you get 10% off all purchases."

Hao nearly choked. Three hundred just for the privilege of slightly less outrageous prices? He shook his head mutely, swiping his card with numb fingers. The cheerful beep of approval felt like a personal failure. Again. 

As they walked back to the car, the weight of the bags in his hand felt disproportionately heavy. Haneul skipped ahead, completely unaware of her mother's turmoil, happily swinging her own small bag and chattering about how excited she was to meet her baby sibling.

Hao's mind whirled with regret and anxiety. He needed to sit down with Hanbin tonight and properly budget. Maybe return some of those maternity clothes. Definitely return that lingerie - what had he been thinking? His fingers tightened around the strap of his purse as a wave of shame washed over him. He was supposed to be the responsible one at home, the careful planner. How had he let things get so out of hand?

The parking lot seemed to stretch endlessly before them, each step amplifying Hao's growing sense of guilt. By the time they reached the car, his eyes burned with unshed tears. He strapped Haneul into her car seat with mechanical movements, his mind still reeling from the financial reality of preparing for another child in this impossibly expensive world.

—---------------------------

The moment they stepped inside their house, Haneul kicked off her sandals with a dramatic flourish, the duck onesie still clutched in her hands like a trophy. "Appa! Appa, look for baby!" she shrieked, her little feet pattering down the hallway toward the sound of the shower running.  

Hao followed, his arms weighed down by shopping bags that suddenly felt heavier than before. The familiar scent of their home—linen and the faint trace of takeout —usually comforted him, but tonight, it did nothing to ease the knot of guilt in his stomach.  

By the time he'd set the bags down and changed into comfortable clothes, Hanbin emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp, dressed in loose joggers and an old t-shirt.  

"Appa!" Haneul launched herself at him, the onesie now slightly crumpled from her enthusiastic handling.  

Hanbin caught her with a grin, examining the tiny outfit. "Wow, is this for the baby?" He held it up, his fingers gentle on the fabric. "You picked this all by yourself?"  

Haneul nodded so hard her curls bounced. "Mama say yes! I eat ice cream too!"  

Hao busied himself with unpacking the takeout containers Hanbin had brought home—jjajangmyeon from their favorite spot, the noodles still steaming when he lifted the lid.  

"You two went all out, huh?" Hanbin said, nodding toward the shopping bags as he settled at the table with Haneul in his lap.  

Hao kept his eyes on the food. "Some of it didn’t fit right. I’ll return those things."  

Hanbin hummed, but before he could respond, Haneul was already wriggling out of his hold. "Mama buy special clothes too!" she announced, making a beeline for the bags.  

Hao’s chopsticks froze mid-air as Haneul began her grand unveiling—the flowy dresses first, then the soft leggings, the wireless bras. Hanbin made approving noises at each item, his fingers skimming over the fabrics.  

Then Haneul struck gold.  

"This!" she crowed, holding up the cherry-red lingerie by one satin strap. "Mama say for Appa!!"  

The room went quiet.  

Hao stared resolutely at his noodles. "It's getting returned," he said flatly. "Wrong size."  

Hanbin’s throat worked as he carefully took the lingerie from Haneul’s grip. "This… doesn’t fit?" he asked, voice oddly strained.  

"Mm. Not at all." Hao shoved a bite of food into his mouth.  

Hanbin’s eyes flicked from the lingerie to Hao’s stubborn expression. Then, with careful precision, he folded it and set it aside. "Okay," he said mildly. "We’ll return it."  

Haneul, oblivious, was already chattering about the ice cream flavors they’d tried as Hao focused very hard on not spontaneously combusting.  

—---------------------------

The familiar routine of bedtime helped settle some of the tension. As Hao smoothed the covers over Haneul while she negotiated the terms of their promised shopping trip. Her sleepy kiss goodnight left a smudge of strawberry toothpaste on his cheek that he didn't bother wiping away.

Now, standing at the bathroom sink, Hao methodically worked through his nightly skincare routine - the familiar motions of cleansing and moisturizing helping him. The house was quiet except for the soft splash of water and the creak of floorboards as Hanbin appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with that quiet intensity that always made Hao's skin prickle with awareness, even after all these years.

"You know," he said conversationally, "that set looked like it would fit you perfectly."  

Hao didn't look up from patting in his serum. "It won't."  

"Too small in the chest? Or—"  

"I'm returning it," Hao cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument.  

Hanbin pushed off the doorframe and came up behind him, his hands settling on Hao's hips. "Try it on first," he murmured against Hao's neck. "For research purposes."  

Hao elbowed him lightly. "No."  

Hanbin exhaled through his nose. "Hao."  

Hao set down his serum with a quiet click. "I was looking at baby clothes today," he said abruptly. "Do you know how much a single onesie costs now? One Thirty Dollars. One Thirty. For something the baby will wear for maybe two months." His fingers curled against the counter. "And then I went and spent three thousand on maternity clothes and—and ridiculous lingerie like money isn’t even a thing we have to think about."  

Hanbin was quiet for a beat. Then he stepped forward, turning Hao to face him. "Okay," he said evenly. "Let’s talk about it."  

Hao blinked. He’d expected Hanbin to dismiss his concerns, to tell him not to worry. But the steadiness in Hanbin’s voice grounded him.  

Hanbin guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. "First," he said, "tell me what’s really bothering you. Is it just the baby clothes? Or is it everything?"  

Hao swallowed. "Everything," he admitted. "The house hunt. The prices of everything going up. The fact that I don’t bring in money anymore, and yet I just—" He gestured vaguely toward the shopping bags. "I spent three thousand in one afternoon like it was nothing."  

Hanbin listened, his expression thoughtful. "Okay," he said again. "So let’s break it down. The maternity clothes—were any of them unnecessary?"  

Hao hesitated. "I could’ve gotten by with less."  

"Could you have?" Hanbin pressed. "Or would you have been miserable in clothes that didn’t fit for the next months?"  

Hao looked away.  

Hanbin’s thumb brushed over his knuckles. "You’re allowed to buy things that make you comfortable, Hao. That’s not frivolous. That’s basic."  

Hao exhaled shakily. "But the baby stuff—"  

"We’ll figure it out," Hanbin said firmly. "We have savings. We have time. And we don’t need to buy everything brand new."  

Hao bit his lip. "It’s not just that. It’s… I feel guilty. You work all day, and I’m here spending money like—"  

"Like it’s our money?" Hanbin finished, raising an eyebrow. "Because it is. Ours. Not just mine."  

Hao fell silent.  

Hanbin squeezed his hand. "Listen. If you’re worried about finances, we’ll sit down tomorrow and go over everything—budget, savings, all of it. But I don’t want you walking around feeling like you have to justify every dollar you spend. Especially not right now."  

Hao’s throat tightened. "It’s not that simple."  

"It can be," Hanbin said softly. "If you let it."  

Hao stared at their joined hands. The weight of the day, of the guilt, pressed down on him—but Hanbin’s grip was steady.  

After a long moment, Hao sighed. "I still think we should return the lingerie."  

Hanbin grinned. "Absolutely not."  

Hao groaned, shoving at him halfheartedly. "It was an impulse buy."  

"Best impulse buy of your life," Hanbin countered, pulling him closer. "And for the record? I don’t care what it cost. If it makes you feel good, it’s worth it."  

Hao wanted to argue, but the words died in his throat when Hanbin kissed him—slow and steady, leaving no room for doubt.  Hanbin’s lips curved into a wicked smile as he pulled back just enough to murmur, “Go try it on for me. Pretty please?” His voice was velvet-dark, fingers trailing down Hao’s arm in a way that left goosebumps in their wake.

Hao rolled his eyes, but his pulse jumped anyway—because the truth was, he’d been dying to slip into that cherry-red set since the moment he saw it. The delicate lace, the sinful plunge of the neckline, the way it would hug every curve of his changed body… He bit his lip, then shoved lightly at Hanbin’s chest. “Wait in the bedroom. And don’t peek.”

Hanbin’s eyes gleamed, but he obeyed, leaving Hao alone in the bathroom with nothing but the whisper of the shopping bag and the rapid beat of his own heart.

The first touch of the lace against his skin was electric. The bodice cupped his chest perfectly, the thin satin straps framing his shoulders like jewelry. His breasts—fuller now, softer—filled out the plunging neckline in a way that made his breath hitch. The lace stretched taut over the swell of them, the deep red making his skin glow like honey under the bathroom lights. He ran his fingers over the delicate embroidery, tracing the way it dipped just low enough to tease.

The panties were even more daring—sheer lace with a satin bow at the front, the high-cut legs making his hips look even more sinful. He turned in the mirror, admiring how the fabric hugged the gentle curve of his belly, the roundness that hadn’t been there before. It didn’t hide his body; it worshiped it. Every inch of him looked expensive, like something to be savored.

Hanbin is going to love this.

With one last glance in the mirror—cheeks flushed, lips parted—he stepped out of the bathroom, pausing just outside the bedroom door. He could hear Hanbin shifting inside, the faint rustle of fabric as he adjusted himself.

Good.

Hao smirked, then reached for the light switch, flicking off the overhead lights, leaving only the dim, golden glow of the bedside lamps. He pulled up his phone, selecting a playlist he knew would drive Hanbin wild—pulsing beats, the kind that curled under the skin and made hips move on instinct.

Then, with the first sultry notes filling the air, he stepped into the doorway.

Hanbin’s breath stopped.

Hao let his hips sway as he moved, the lace whispering against his skin with every step. His breasts bounced just slightly with the rhythm, the red fabric making them look even more tempting, the deep neckline threatening to spill if he moved too fast. He didn’t. He took his time, rolling his shoulders, arching his back just enough to make the lace strain.

Hanbin’s knuckles were white where they gripped the sheets.

“Like what you see?” Hao purred, spinning leisurely, letting the light catch the satin.

Hanbin’s voice was rough, wrecked. “Fuck, Hao.”

Hao grinned, then let his hands trail up his own body—over his waist, his ribs, finally cupping the weight of his own chest, thumbs brushing over where the lace met skin. He tipped his head back, lips parting on a soft sigh, just to watch Hanbin’s jaw clench.

“Dance for me,” Hanbin demanded, voice thick.

And Hao did.

He rolled his hips in measured circles, the music guiding him, his body moving like liquid. He turned, giving Hanbin a view of the way the panties clung to his ass, the sheer lace leaving just enough to the imagination. When he glanced over his shoulder, Hanbin’s gaze was burning.

"Come here," Hanbin growled, his voice thick with need, fingers flexing like he was already imagining them digging into Hao's hips.

Hao just smirked, rolling his shoulders back so the flimsy straps of the babydoll slipped even further down his arms. "Make me," he taunted, swaying his hips in a sensual, hypnotic rhythm—just enough to make Hanbin’s breath hitch, but not enough to give him what he wanted.

He turned his back to Hanbin, bending over just enough to let the lace-clad curve of his ass tease before he dropped to his knees beside the bed. "Ah, what do we have here?" he mused, voice dripping with false innocence as he dragged a locked box from underneath the bed.

Hanbin made a strangled noise. "Fuck—when did you—?"

Hao shot him a look over his shoulder, arching his back to present himself as he popped the box open. "Did you really think I wouldn’t come prepared?" Inside, nestled in black velvet, were all of their favorite toys.

He plucked out a pair of sleek metal handcuffs, dangling them from one finger with a wicked grin. "Arms up, baobei."

Hanbin’s pupils were blown wide, his chest rising and falling fast, but he obeyed, lifting his wrists without protest. Hao climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap, and made a show of securing the cuffs around Hanbin’s wrists before attaching them to the headboard.

"There," Hao purred, trailing a finger down Hanbin’s chest. "Now you’re all set."

Hanbin tested the restraints instinctively, the metal clinking softly, and the way his throat bobbed at the realization that he couldn’t touch sent a thrill through Hao.

"Good boy," Hao murmured, leaning down to nip at Hanbin’s lower lip before pulling away just as quickly. He reached back into what he threw earlier into the mattress, pulling out a vibrator—sleek, black, and powerful.

Hao leaned back just enough to smirk down at Hanbin’s expression—lips parted, eyes blown dark, his entire body strung tight beneath Hao’s weight. “You want this?” he teased, dragging the toy down Hanbin’s chest, then over the desperate tent in his pants. “Hm? You want me to take care of you?”

Hanbin’s breath was ragged, his thighs tensing under Hao’s weight. “Please—”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Hao purred, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Hanbin’s pants. He took his time, peeling them down torturous inch by inch, letting his nails scrape lightly over Hanbin’s hips just to hear him whimper. The fabric pooled at his knees, leaving him in nothing but his straining boxers—the damp patch at the front proof of just how much he was aching.

Hao hummed as he reached for the vibrator that's sitting next to Hanbin's thighs again, turning it on with a soft buzz that made Hanbin’s cock twitch beneath his boxers. “My husband is such a sight,” Hao murmured, “Already shaking and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Hanbin’s breath hitched, his fingers gripping the headboard like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His boxers were damp with pre-come, the fabric tented obscenely, and Hao licked his lips at the sight.

“Hands stay there, if you move too much you'll make noise and we don't want to wake Haneul up,” Hao ordered, pressing the vibrator against Hanbin’s inner thigh, just close enough to make him jerk. “If you move them, I stop. And trust me, baobei, you don’t want that.”

Hanbin whined, his hips lifting instinctively, but Hao just tsked and pressed him back down with a firm hand on his stomach. “Ah-ah. No moving.”

Then, without warning, Hao dragged the vibrator up the length of Hanbin’s cock over the fabric, the lace of his own panties brushing Hanbin’s hip as he leaned in. The second the vibrations hit, Hanbin arched, a broken moan tearing from his throat.

“Fuck—Hao—!”

Hao grinned, circling the head of Hanbin’s cock with teasing movements, watching the wet spot on his boxers grow. “You sound so pretty like this,” he cooed, pressing harder, reveling in the way Hanbin’s thighs trembled. “All desperate and needy for me.”

He could feel Hanbin getting closer—his breath coming in ragged gasps, his hips twitching uncontrollably. Just as Hanbin’s back started to bow, his abs tightening in that telltale way, Hao yanked the vibrator away.

Hanbin cried, his cock jerking, his whole body seizing with the abrupt denial. “No—fuck, please—!”

Hao laughed, low and cruel, trailing the toy down to Hanbin’s balls instead, pressing lightly. “Did I say you could come?” he murmured, watching Hanbin’s face twist in agony. “You don’t get to until I let you.”

Hanbin’s hands clenched on the headboard, his knuckles white, tears welling in his eyes. “Baby, please—”

“Please what?” Hao tilted his head, dragging the vibrator back up, agonizing and unrelenting. “Use your words.”

Hanbin choked on a moan, his cock dripping now. “Please—let me come, I can’t—fuck—”

Hao hummed, considering, then pressed the vibrator firmly against the head of Hanbin’s cock again, upping the speed. “Okay,” he whispered. “I give you permission.”

Hanbin’s moans grew louder, wrecked and shameless, his hips jerking up into the toy and Hao’s teasing grind. “Yes—yes—right there, please—” His voice cracked, nails digging into his palms to the point of drawing blood. “Thank you, baby, thank you—”

Hao hummed, considering, “So polite,” he murmured. “But do you really deserve it?”

Hanbin whined, thighs trembling, sweat-slick and desperate. “Please—please, I’ll be good, I’ll—fuck—”

Hao smirked, speed set to the max.

Hanbin shrieked, back bowing off the mattress, his cock twitching violently as the vibrations tore through him. Hao leaned down, biting his earlobe. “Fine,” he whispered. “Come for me.”

The second Hanbin’s orgasm hit, his back arching, his mouth falling open in a silent scream—Hao squeezed the base of his cock hard, his other hand gripping Hanbin’s balls just enough to hurt.

Hanbin shrieked, his body convulsing as his orgasm was ruined, his cock pulsing weakly, spilling just a pathetic trickle instead of the full release he needed. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he gasped, his hips jerking helplessly, his hands slamming against the headboard. Soon after, Hao brought the vibrator back.

“Fuck! Hao—stop, it’s too much—!”

Hao didn’t stop. He instead kept the toy pressed to Hanbin’s oversensitive cock, watching him writhe, his own arousal throbbing at the sight. “Look at you,” he breathed, dragging his free hand through Hanbin’s sweat-damp hair with force, enough to push his head back all the way down, throat on display. “Ruined. And it’s all because of me.”

Hanbin sobbed, his body twitching with every buzz, his cock got trapped again in Hao’s merciless grip. Hanbin felt like he was on the verge of passing out, and Hao noticed that of course. He pulled away just enough to toss the toy carelessly aside with a clatter, removing his hands as well. He gave Hanbin some time to compose himself.

"Hyung," Hao cooed sweetly, tilting his head as his fingers trailed down Hanbin’s chest, nails scraping lightly over his stomach before wrapping around his cock again in a loose, teasing grip. Hanbin jerked under him, a broken sound escaping his throat, but Hao just smirked. "So desperate. So messy."

He pressed his palm flat against the leaking head, rubbing in slow, torturous circles—just enough pressure to make Hanbin’s hips stutter, never enough to give him relief. "You’d come just like this, wouldn’t you?" Hao murmured, leaning down to nip at Hanbin’s jaw. "If I let you?"

Hanbin’s breath came in ragged gasps, his fingers digging into the headboard like he was clinging to the last shred of his self-control. "Yes, Hao, please let me, please"

"Ah-ah," Hao tutted, tightening his grip just slightly, thumb swiping over the tip to smear the wetness there. "No begging yet. Not until I want to hear it."

He dragged his hand up and down in one filthy stroke, watching Hanbin’s abs clench, his thighs trembling beneath him. "You’re mine like this," Hao whispered, speeding up just a fraction. "No one gets to play you like me."

Hanbin’s head fell back, a strangled moan tearing from his lips as his hips bucked helplessly into Hao’s touch.

"You know baby, I would love to keep my hands wrapped around you," Hao purred, lifting himself off Hanbin’s lap just enough to make him whine. "But you told me to dance, right?" He dragged a teasing fingertip down Hanbin’s nipple, flicking it and rubbing it, watching his pecs jump under the touch. "And your wife is nothing if not an obeying one."

Then, with a wicked smirk, he started moving again—slow, deliberate rolls of his hips, the lace of his panties dragging against Hanbin’s straining cock through his boxers, the dampness easing his movements. The friction was delicious, and Hao let out a breathy moan.

"Hyung," Hao taunted, grinding down, his own cock aching where it pressed against Hanbin’s. "So fucking desperate for me. Can’t even think straight, can you?" He arched his back, letting his tits bounce slightly, the cherry-red lace barely containing them. His belly—soft, round, perfectly his—brushed against Hanbin’s abs as he leaned forward, his breath hot against Hanbin’s ear. "Your poor balls must be blue by now."

Hanbin choked out a groan, his hips jerking up for the nth time, but Hao just laughed and pulled back, denying him the friction he craved. "Ah-ah, baobei," he scolded, rolling his hips in gradual undulations. "You don’t get to fuck up into me."

He could feel Hanbin throbbing beneath him, the heat of him searing even through the layers of fabric. The power was intoxicating—Hao loved this, loved reducing Hanbin to a trembling, panting mess beneath him. He dragged his hand down his own body, squeezing his tits through the lace, pinching his nipples just to hear Hanbin’s breath stutter.

"You wanna touch me so bad, don’t you?" Hao murmured, grinding down harder, the delicious pressure making his own cock twitch. "Wanna rip this pretty little set-off and fuck me stupid?" He leaned in, biting Hanbin’s lower lip. "Too bad. Tonight, you watch."

Hanbin’s hips bucked again and again, and Hao rewarded him with a sharp, punishing roll of his hips— enough to make him see stars. Hanbin’s breath came in ragged gasps, his thighs trembling under Hao’s weight, his cock aching with every sinful grind. "Hao—"

"Beg," Hao demanded, slowing his movements to a tormenting crawl. "Go on. Let me hear how much you need it.”

“Gege—fuck—please,” he obeyed, his hips jerking up uselessly, desperate for more friction. “Move—harder—I can’t—ah—!”

Hao smirked, rolling his hips in circles, the heat of Hanbin’s cock trapped between them, throbbing against his lace-covered ass. “Poor baby,” he cooed, dragging his nails down Hanbin’s chest. “You look so pathetic like this. All worked up and still begging for more.”

Hanbin’s eyes were glazed, pupils blown wide, his lips parted in ragged gasps. He looked ruined—chest heaving, sweat-slicked, his entire body trembling under Hao’s weight. But his gaze never left him, dark and possessive, even as tears welled at the corners of his eyes.

Hao leaned forward, pressing his swollen belly against Hanbin’s chest, grinding down harder just to hear him choke. “You love this, don’t you?” he purred, pinching his own sore nipples through the lace, arching with a moan. “Love watching me have my fun with you.”

Hanbin’s breath hitched, his cock twitching beneath him, his hips stuttering up in weak little thrusts. “H-Hao—”

“Shhh,” Hao hushed, bouncing lightly in his lap now, the wet fabric of Hanbin’s boxers sticking to his skin. “Just take it.”

And Hanbin did. His body locked up, his back bowing off the bed as he came with a broken sob, his release soaking through his boxers, his thighs shaking violently. His head lolled to the side, tears streaking down his cheeks, his chest rising and falling in uneven bursts. But his eyes—still locked on Hao, still watching, even as he whimpered from overstimulation.

Hao didn’t stop.

He kept grinding and bouncing, chasing his own orgasm, the lace of his panties soaked with Hanbin’s mess, the slide filthy and perfect. “Baobei,” he panted, riding Hanbin’s oversensitive cock, his own arousal dripping down his thighs. “Mine. All mine.”

Hanbin whined, his body twitching, his hands falling weakly in the handcuffs. But he let Hao use him, let him take what he needed.

And when Hao finally came, it was with a sharp cry, his body clenching, his fingers tangled in Hanbin’s hair very hard as he ground down one last time, milking every last shudder from them both.

For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing.

Hao leaned down, licking a stripe up Hanbin’s tear-streaked cheek. “Good boy.”  

Hanbin’s breath stuttered, his eyes fluttering shut—completely wrecked.  

With gentle hands, Hao unbuckled the cuffs, freeing Hanbin’s wrists from the headboard, pressing soothing kisses to the faint red marks left behind. He carefully stored the restraints and the vibrator back in their box, sliding it under the bed with a quiet click of the lock.  

When he turned back, Hanbin was still sprawled across the sheets, limbs loose, chest rising and falling in exhausted breaths. His skin was flushed, his lips kiss-swollen, his hair a mess—beautiful.  

Hao crawled back to him, peppering soft kisses over his shoulders, his collarbones, the curve of his jaw. “I love you,” he murmured between each one. “My perfect boy. My best husband.” He nuzzled into Hanbin’s neck, breathing him in. “Sorry if I was a little mean.”  

Hanbin made a weak, contented noise, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for Hao but couldn’t quite muster the strength.  

Smiling, Hao fetched a warm cloth, cleaning them both with tender strokes—wiping away the sweat, the slick, the evidence of their pleasure. Hanbin sighed under his touch, pliant and boneless, his eyelids heavy.  

When Hao moved to take off the babydoll, Hanbin’s hand finally lifted, catching his wrist with a weak but insistent grip. “Keep it on,” he mumbled, voice rough. “Come to bed.”  

Hao laughed softly but obeyed, crawling under the covers beside him. Hanbin immediately curled into him, burying his face in the crook of Hao’s neck, one arm slung possessively over his waist. The lace of the babydoll pressed between them, soft against Hanbin’s bare skin.  

“Told you,” Hanbin murmured, half-asleep already, “you don’t need to return it, worth every penny.”  

Hao snorted, tangling their legs together. “Shut up.”  

Hanbin grinned against his skin, tilting his head up for one last, lazy kiss—slow and sweet, nothing like the heat from before. Just them.  

And when they finally drifted off, it was to the steady rhythm of each other’s breaths, tangled together in the dim glow of the lamplight.

Chapter Text

Week 25

Hao finally found a quiet moment to sit down and review their finances. He set a cup of oolong tea on the table and cracked open an old college notebook, his fingers automatically tracing the worn edges of staff paper where he’d once transcribed particularly difficult passages. 

Between pages of music theory—the edges softened by years of use—he found something unexpected: Hanbin’s handwriting, that messy mix of print and cursive he’d know anywhere. The ink had faded slightly with time, but the words still made his pulse skip:

" Your pencil tapping—it’s in 5/8, right? The same rhythm as the second movement of your Shostakovich piece. You always do this when you’re stressed. (Also you bite your bottom lip. It’s cute. Also also, stop .)"(there’s two alsos)

Hao’s breath caught. He could see it—Hanbin sprawled across the library table, chin propped on one hand, watching Hao’s restless fingers with that infuriatingly fond smirk. How had he even known? The Shostakovich was something Hao only practiced alone, late at night when the practice rooms were quiet. His reply, written days later in ink smudged by a hasty sleeve, betrayed his shock:

" Since when do you recognize compound time signatures?? And how did you know it was Shostakovich? I’ve never played that for you. (Also ‘cute’?? You’re banned from commentary.)"

The next page revealed Hanbin’s response, the letters slightly uneven like he’d been laughing as he wrote:

"You left your practice notes open last week. I saw those four letters—D, S, C, H—and remembered you mentioning how composers hide signatures in their music. So with...the help of Google and Wikipedia, I figured it out. Don’t be so surprised—I pay attention when you talk about things you love."

A dried flower petal—a pansy, purple edges gone brittle—fluttered out as Hao turned the page. He remembered that afternoon: Hanbin appeared out of nowhere to tuck it behind his ear with a " This matches your sulking face, " before dancing away. 

A few pages later, wedged between a grocery list ("eggs, rosin, coffee—the bitter kind Hanbin likes") and a reminder to "return library books (or suffer the wrath of Ms. Kim AGAIN)", Hanbin had scrawled:

" You left your scarf at my place AGAIN. It smells like your stupid fancy shampoo. I’m keeping it hostage until you admit you do this on purpose. (It’s very soft. I’ve been sleeping with it. No, I’m not ashamed.)"

Hao’s lips quirked. Beneath it, he’d written in his neatest sarcastic script:

" Then I’m stealing your favorite sweatpants. The gray ones with the hole near the pocket. You’ll never see them again. (I know they’re your ‘lucky performance’ ones. Suffer.)"

Hanbin’s retort took up the entire margin in bright red ink:

"JOKE’S ON YOU. I WEAR THEM COMMANDO. ENJOY MY ESSENCE, COWARD."

He flipped more pages. There, tucked underneath a coffee-stained analysis of Bach partitas, Hao found a note that made his hands still:

"Wear that white blouse to your recital next Thursday. You look like moonlight in it. (I’ll be in the front row. Try not to get distracted by my devastatingly  handsome face.)"

Hao’s chest tightened. He remembered that day with startling clarity—how he’d rolled his eyes at the note but had worn the blouse anyway. How his bow had hovered a second too long over the strings when he spotted Hanbin in the front row, clutching a bouquet of daisies so large it nearly obscured his face. 

After the performance, Hanbin had shoved them into his arms with a grin. "You’re like these—all serious and elegant from far away, but up close? Just a little guy who needs sunlight and bad jokes to survive." The memory was so vivid Hao could still smell the daisies’ peppery freshness, still feel Hanbin’s fingers brushing his as he took the bouquet.

On the next page, Hanbin had written:  

"Okay, I asked THREE MUSIC MAJORS and they all said daisies are ‘basic’ for a recital bouquet. Joke’s on them—you literally sneezed on the lilies your stand partner got you. Daisies are practical. (Also yes, I’m keeping track of your allergies.)"

Hao had replied:  

"They’re ‘basic’ because normal people don’t research flower etiquette for student recitals. (…Thank you.)"  

The ink was blotted there as if he’d written in a hurry. Or maybe—as Hanbin would’ve teased—as if he’d been emotional.

The next note was accompanied by a transcription of Clair de Lune, Hanbin’s handwriting unusually small:  

"You played the Debussy encore piece. The one you said was ‘too sentimental’ to perform. Was that… for me? (If not, lie to me.)"  

Hao had never answered. But now, years later, his fingers traced the words while the unspoken truth hummed in his ribs: Of course it was .

It also held a Polaroid—Hanbin mid-laugh, wearing Hao’s scarf as a blindfold, captioned "Proof you ‘forget’ things at my place " in glitter pen. 

And then, on a page otherwise filled with Hao’s meticulous bullet points on ‘Protest Music’ for his music and politics elective, Hanbin’s handwriting suddenly turned careful, the letters pressed deep into the paper:

"You think I don’t notice, but I do. Every time. The way your breathing syncs with the phrase structure. How you hum in Dorian mode when you’re thinking. The exact moment your fingers start aching during long practice sessions. I notice all of it. (Even the stuff you wish I didn’t. Especially that.)"

The notebook slipped from Hao’s hands. This wasn’t just observation—it was a love letter written in the margins of his life. The financial papers lay forgotten as Hao reached for his phone, suddenly needing to hear the voice of the man who had learned to speak his soul’s native tongue. 

Hanbin answered on the third ring, voice warm with amusement. "To what do I owe this midday—"

"I love you so much," Hao blurted out, tears already streaking down his face. "I'm so—so grateful you married me, you have no idea—"

A beat of confused silence. Then, cautiously: "...Did you finally listen to that voicemail I left you when I thought we were gonna break up 3 years ago?"

"No!" Hao sniffled, pressing the notebook tighter to his chest.

"Did you find Haneul's missing sock that's been haunting our laundry?"

"Hanbin, I'm being serious—"

"Is this about the time I used your rosin for my dance shoes? Because I maintain that was a valid experiment—"

"I found our old college notes," Hao interrupted, voice cracking. "The ones where you pretended to understand classical music just to flirt with me."

The line went quiet. Hao could practically see Hanbin's expression—that soft, startled look he got whenever Hao caught him off guard with affection. " Oh ." A rustle of fabric. "So... not a life emergency then."

"No," Hao laughed wetly, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"And you're sure you don't need me to rush home with emergency dumplings?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay." Hanbin exhaled, his smile audible. "I might be late tonight—we added an extra rehearsal—"

"I'll be waiting," Hao said softly, fingers tracing the worn pages.

"I'll be home soon.”

The call ended, leaving Hao surrounded by the quiet hum of their apartment. He stared at the notebook and smiled. They’d really come so far, hadn’t they?  

From library notes passed under music stands to shared grocery lists on their fridge— Hao, stop buying the expensive yogurt scribbled in Hanbin’s handwriting, followed by his own retaliatory Hanbin, stop hiding my yogurt from me —from recital bouquets to this quiet, ordinary life they’d built together.  

With a deep breath, he turned back to the task at hand.  

He already knew the facts. They were doing okay with just Hanbin’s paycheck. Their expenses were covered, and they even managed to save a little each month. But ever since his pregnancy started, things had shifted. Medical checkups, ultrasounds, vitamins, and all the little extra costs had them dipping into those savings more often.  

And then there was the shopping spree.  

His fingers tightened around the pen. The receipts from his last shopping spree still sat in the drawer—soft sweaters and loose-fitting pants he’d convinced himself were necessary when his changing body made him feel like a stranger in his skin. A fleeting comfort, now tinged with guilt he stared at the numbers on the page. Their savings had dipped much lower than he’d realized. 

No more impulsive spending, he told himself. If they were going to stretch their budget further, it had to be for things that mattered.  

That’s why he turned to a fresh page, pen hovering over the blank space. Essentials only, he wrote at the top, underlining it twice.

First, there was the nursery. They needed a crib, a firm mattress, and a changing table. A dresser to store tiny clothes, swaddle blankets, and sleep sacks to keep the baby warm. A baby monitor—Hanbin might insist on one with a camera so he could check in while at work. Blackout curtains might help with naps, and a white noise machine could make sleeping easier.

Then came the daily essentials. Diapers—an endless supply of them, wipes, and diaper rash cream. A diaper bag for when they went out. A baby bathtub, soft towels, gentle baby shampoo, and lotion. A thermometer, nail clippers, and a nasal aspirator. Pacifiers and teething toys, because he knew the baby would need soothing.

For feeding, even though he planned to breastfeed, he would still need bottles, a sterilizer, and a breast pump. Nursing pads, because his chest was already sore, and nipple cream for when it got worse. Burp cloths, because babies spat up all the time, and bibs for when they started eating solid foods.

Transportation was another big thing. A sturdy car seat and a stroller—something lightweight but strong enough to last. A baby carrier for when he wanted to keep the baby close while still having his hands free.

And, of course, clothes. Tiny onesies, soft socks, mittens, warm layers for winter. Hats to keep their little head warm. Sleepers with zippers because no one wants to deal with buttons at 2 a.m.

The list grew longer, and Hao felt his chest tighten as he looked at it. It wasn’t just a list—it was their baby’s whole world, and it was all on him and Hanbin to provide it. He let out a breath, smoothing his hand over his belly.  

"We'll make it work, baobei," he whispered into the quiet room, one hand resting absently on his stomach. "Appa and I will take care of everything."

He reached for his notebook again when a small shuffling sound made him pause. On the couch, Haneul was blinking awake, her favorite rabbit plush slipping from her lap as she sat up. The glow from her afternoon cartoon played across her sleepy face.

"Mama do what?" she mumbled, rubbing one eye with a tiny fist. Her pajama shirt was crooked, and her hair stuck up in soft tufts that caught the lamplight.

All the tension left Hao's shoulders at once. He set the pen down and opened his arms. "Come here, my little star," he said, voice warm.

He reached out, pulling her into his lap, “Just making a list, baby.” Haneul settled against his chest, peering curiously at the notebook.  

“List?”  

Hao kissed the top of her head. “For your little sibling. We have to get a lot of things before they come.”  

Haneul scrunched up her nose. “Baby need list?”  

Hao huffed a laugh. “Yes, baby needs a lot of things.”  

She studied the scribbles on the page as if she could read them, then pointed to a random spot with a chubby finger. “What is this?”  

Hao glanced at where she was pointing. “That says ‘diapers’ The baby’s gonna need lots and lots of them.”  

Haneul gasped dramatically. “A lot?”  

Hao nodded. “So many.”  

Haneul giggled. “More than me?”  

“More than you, even.” Hao chuckled, tapping her nose.  

She hummed in thought, then pointed again. “What is this?”  

“That says ‘bottles.’ We had to get new ones ‘cause yours got old.”  

Haneul frowned. “My bottles old?”  

Hao smiled, stroking her hair. “You don’t need them anymore, do you?”  

Haneul shook her head proudly. “Nope! I big girl!”  

“That’s right, you’re a big girl.” He kissed her cheek.  

She rested her head against his chest, silent for a moment before tilting her head up. “Mama…baby expansive?”  

Hao blinked at her, caught off guard by the question. He hesitated, then nodded. “A bit, yeah.”  

Haneul seemed to think deeply for a moment, then sat up straighter. “I give baby my blankie. And my toys I share too.”  

Hao stared at her, warmth blooming in his chest. She was only two, yet she already had such a big heart, and such an instinct to care for others.

He hugged her tightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re the best daughter and sister, you know that?”  

Haneul beamed. “I am?”  

“You are.” Hao smiled.  

She nodded firmly. “Okay. I take care of baby.”  

Hao’s eyes softened as he smoothed down her hair. “I know you will, my love.” 

Haneul settled against him again, yawning, her tiny fingers tracing the edge of the notebook. Hao’s eyes drifted back to the list. His pen hovered over the words, hesitating, before he exhaled and flipped to a fresh page.  

They had to be practical. Not everything on this list had to be brand new.  

His mind drifted back to when Haneul was born. They had kept a lot of her baby things—some out of sentimentality, some because they had always planned to have another child, not this soon, but sometime in the future. He tapped his pen against his lips, then started crossing things out.  

The crib—they still had it, tucked away in storage. The baby bathtub and the baby carrier? Still perfectly usable. A stack of soft blankets, a set of pacifiers that had never been opened, a few onesies that had been barely worn before Haneul outgrew them—those could all be reused.  

But then there were the things they couldn't use again. The car seat is still Haneul’s. The bottles, after years in storage, weren’t in the best condition. Clothes—they had given most of them away to the community center, thinking they wouldn’t need them again so soon. 

Hao sighed, the rhythm of his pen cap clicking against his teeth keeping time with his thoughts. They had the essentials, yes—but reconstructing what they'd so easily let go now felt like trying to catch smoke with bare hands.

As evening deepened, the kitchen became an island of blue light in the dark apartment. His laptop hummed softly while his fingers moved in their restless ritual—keyboard to calculator and back again, browser tabs blooming and withering as he compared prices. The notebook beside him drank in the numbers greedily: car seats with five-point harnesses, BPA-free bottles, diapers ranked by absorbency, and miniature socks that seemed impossibly small.

Every click of the mouse tightened the knot between his shoulder blades. Every digit added to the growing sum pressed heavier against his ribs.

Warmth shifted in his lap—Haneul, her cheek smooshed against his chest, one small fist clutching his shirt even in sleep. He smoothed a hand down her back, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing beneath his palm as he continued working.

The scrape of the front door unlocking came just past ten, sudden and welcome.

Hanbin stepped inside, moving carefully when he noticed Haneul sleeping. He looked exhausted, his usual sharp features softened with weariness, but at least he had showered at the studio—his damp hair was proof of that.  

Hao glanced up just as Hanbin approached, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. Hao whispered, “Welcome back.”  

Hanbin gave him a tired smile before nodding toward the sleeping toddler in his arms. “She fell asleep on you again?”  

“Like always.” Hao let out a small chuckle.  

Gently, he rose to his feet, carefully cradling Haneul as he carried her to her bed. She stirred slightly when he laid her down, but after a few sleepy blinks, she snuggled into her blanket and drifted back off. Hao brushed her hair back before quietly leaving the room.  

When he returned, he found Hanbin peering over his laptop screen, eyes scanning the messy notes in his notebook.  

“Sit down,” Hao told him, walking over. “I’ll heat dinner.”  

Hanbin sighed but obeyed, lowering himself into a chair. Before Hao could leave, he stepped behind him, hands moving up to Hanbin’s tense shoulders. He kneaded gently, feeling the knots of stress beneath his fingers.  

Hanbin groaned, tipping his head back. “God, that feels good.”  

“You overexerted yourself again today, didn’t you?” Hao murmured, working at the tight muscles.  

“Mmm.” Hanbin let out a slow breath. “Yeah. I needed to finish everything before the weekend, so I didn’t really pace myself.”  

Hao sighed, pressing his thumbs deeper into the knots. “You need to recuperate. I don’t want you collapsing on me, Hanbin.”  

Hanbin chuckled, voice low. “I’m fine. You worry too much.”  

“Someone has to.” Hao shook his head, pressing a final squeeze to his shoulders before pulling away. “I’ll get you dinner.”

A few minutes later, Hao placed a steaming bowl of braised eggplant in rich garlic sauce in front of Hanbin, the fragrant aroma curling between them as he set down a side of fluffy rice.  

Hanbin's chopsticks hovered over the dish for only a second before he took his first bite. The change was immediate—his shoulders relaxed, his eyes fluttering closed as the flavors hit his tongue. "Mmm," he hummed, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. "This is really good."  

"Of course it is," Hao said, settling across from him with his chin propped in his palm. His pinky absently traced the curve of his lips as he watched Hanbin eat, the exhaustion in his husband's frame easing bite by bite.  

Hanbin paused just long enough to flash him a smirk, the playful glint back in his eyes. "Thank you, baby. I needed this."  

Hao didn't answer—just let his silence speak for him, the quiet between them as comfortable as the warmth of the meal.  

By the time Hanbin set his chopsticks down with a contented sigh, rubbing a hand over his stomach, the shadows under his eyes had lightened. "Seriously," he said, voice thick with satisfaction, "you always make the best food. I don't know what I'd do without you."  

Hao rolled his eyes, but the effect was ruined by the way his lips twitched. "Starve, probably."  

Hanbin chuckled, and then his gaze flickered to the open laptop and notebook on the table. “What are you working on?”  

Hao hesitated before pushing the laptop toward him. “Going through baby essentials and our finances.”  

Hanbin’s brows furrowed slightly, but instead of saying anything right away, he reached over, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Hao’s ear and letting his fingers trail lightly over his cheek. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”  

Hao blinked, heat rushing to his face. “Bin—”  

“I mean it.” Hanbin’s voice was soft, but certain. “Even when you’re worried, all focused like this, you’re still the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”  

Hao huffed, shaking his head. “You’re just trying to distract me.”  

Hanbin smirked. “Is it working?”  

Hao let out a small laugh, but it faded quickly as he looked back at the numbers on the screen. “I just… I knew things weren’t great, but I didn’t realize how much we’d been pulling from our savings. The medical checkups, the extra food expenses, even the stuff I bought the other day—it all adds up.” He sighed, rubbing at his temple. “Ever since I got pregnant, we’ve been relying on that money more and more.”  

Hanbin leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. I’ve been trying not to let it worry you.”  

Hao looked up at him, something tightening in his chest. “I should’ve been paying attention earlier.”  

Hanbin shook his head. “No, baby, that’s not on you. I wanted you to rest, to focus on the pregnancy, and not stress over this.” His fingers tapped against the table, jaw tensing slightly. “But you’re right. It’s getting tighter. We need to be careful.”  

Hao swallowed, nodding. “I just want to make sure we’re ready for the baby. That we can afford everything we need without completely draining what we have left.”  

Hanbin reached across the table, taking Hao’s hand in his. His grip was firm, steady—reassuring. “We always figure things out. Maybe I can take on more freelance projects, or we can look for a place further out where rent is cheaper. It won’t be easy, but we’ll make it work.”  

Hao nodded, squeezing Hanbin’s hand. “We’ll have to be smart about it. Cut back where we can, maybe I can find something small to do from home.”  

Hanbin opened his mouth as if to respond, but then he paused, his expression shifting like something had just clicked in his mind. “First of all, no—you’re not taking any work, and that’s not up for discussion. Second, my dad called today. He said one of his friends is moving out of his house—a place just in the suburbs of Seoul. He’s heading to the countryside, and he doesn’t have any plans for the house yet. My dad mentioned us, and his friend said he’d rather have it occupied than leave it empty. And if it’s to us, he knows we’ll take care of it.”  

Hao’s head snapped up, eyes widening. “Are you serious?”  

Hanbin nodded. “Yeah. It’s not set in stone, but we could check it out. It might be a good deal, and it’s got more space. Maybe even a small yard for the kids.”  

Hope flickered in Hao’s chest. He had seen how hard Hanbin had been searching for a place—something suitable, something that wouldn’t drain them financially but would still give them what they needed. And nothing had worked out so far.  

He swallowed, nodding quickly. “We should check it out.” And then he let out a breath, forcing himself to relax. “I hope it works out. Not just because of the money, but… for you. I know how much you’ve been carrying, Bin.” His voice softened. “You don’t show it, but I see it. You’re doing so much for us, and if this house is it… maybe it’ll take some of that weight off.”  

Hanbin’s expression faltered for a second before he exhaled, rubbing his thumb over the back of Hao’s hand. “Then we’ll go see it.” He added, “If it doesn’t work out… we’ll figure something else out. I promise.”  

Hao nodded slowly, letting out a breath. “I know. I just want to be sure we’re making the right decision. It’s not just about finding a place, it’s about stability. If we move, I don’t want us to be in the same situation a year from now with two babies relying on us.”  

Hanbin leaned back slightly, considering his words. “You’re right. We need to look at it from every angle. I’ll talk to my dad, and get more details. See what the numbers really look like.”  

Hao nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “And we should run the numbers on our end too. How much it would cost would look like compared to what we pay now, utilities, potential repairs… If we’re going to do this, I don’t want us walking in blind.”  

Hanbin exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. We’ll lay everything out before we decide. But if it checks out, this could be good for us.”  

Hao was quiet for a moment before murmuring, “It’s just… a lot to think about. Everything feels so uncertain right now.”  

Hanbin tightened his grip on Hao’s hand. “I know. But we’re not doing this alone.”  

Hao met his gaze, searching his face. Hanbin was unshakable as a bedrock—just like always. No matter how much weight they carried, he never let go.  

Hao let out a slow breath and gave a small nod. “Alright.”  

Hanbin exhaled, rubbing his thumb over the back of Hao’s hand. “There’s something else I wanted to tell you.”  

Hao tilted his head, waiting. “What is it?”  

Hanbin hesitated before finally saying, “My parents… they offered to help us out. Financially. They know we’re young and that having two kids isn’t easy. They told me if things ever got too tough, they’d step in.”  

Hao blinked, taking in the words. “And you told them no.”  

Hanbin let out a quiet chuckle, nodding. “Of course, I did. I don’t want to be a father who can’t take care of his own family. I don’t want to rely on them to do what I should be doing.”  

Hao was quiet for a moment, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the table. “I get that,” he admitted. “I don’t want to take money from anyone, either. I’d rather start working again, find a way to make it work on our own.” He looked at Hanbin, voice steady. “But… if we’re thinking about this pragmatically, maybe taking some help at the start wouldn’t be the worst thing. Just to keep us from drowning.”  

Hanbin’s jaw tightened slightly. “And then what? We rely on them every time things get hard?”  

Hao shook his head. “No. We take it, but only as much as we absolutely need, and we pay them back as soon as we can. This wouldn’t be a handout—it’d be a short-term plan to make sure we don’t drain ourselves completely before we even get started.”  

Hanbin exhaled, rubbing his face. “I just… I wanted to do this on my own.”  

Hao reached out, taking Hanbin’s hand in both of his. “You are doing this on your own. We are. But being a good father doesn’t mean refusing help at all costs. It means making the best decisions for our family, even when they’re hard.”  

Hanbin’s grip tightened around Hao’s. “You really think this is the best move?”  

Hao sighed, rubbing his thumb along the edge of the table. "I think we have to at least consider it. Just until we're stable. Then we work our asses off and pay them back." He reached for Hanbin's hand, tracing the familiar calluses on his palm. "It's not about pride, Bin. It's about making sure our kids don't go without, that we don't push ourselves past our breaking point."

Hanbin studied him - the tired slope of his shoulders, the determined set of his jaw - before finally nodding. "Okay. We'll think about it." His grip tightened around Hao's fingers. "But if we do this, we do it on our terms."

"Always." Hao smiled, the tension in his chest loosening just slightly. 

The moment stretched comfortably between them until Hanbin's gaze drifted to the stack of notebooks piled on the counter. One corner of his mouth quirked up. "Soo," he drawled, releasing Hao's hand to tap the faded cover of a college-ruled notebook. "You went digging through your old school stuff, huh?”

Hao scoffed, kicking him lightly under the table. “No. I was just looking for a blank page and happened to see them.”  

“Mhm.” Hanbin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his grin widening into something unbearably knowing. “And you happened to get all emotional over them?”  

Hao narrowed his eyes. There was no winning this. Hanbin could read him too well—always had, always would. So instead of arguing, he slid the notebook across the table with a defiant push, his chin lifting in challenge. “Here. You go through them yourself and then tell me if I’m being emotional.”  

Hanbin’s fingers brushed the worn edges, his touch almost reverent, before flipping it open.  

And then—silence.  

Hao watched, heart in his throat, as Hanbin’s expression shifted with every page.  

First, amusement—eyes crinkling at the corners as he reread their old bickering, the playful jabs they’d traded in the margins of Hao’s music theory notes. Then, a soft, private smile when he turned the page and found the dried pansy petal, its purple edges brittle but still clinging to the paper after all these years. His thumb traced it gently, as if afraid it might dissolve under his touch.  

A flicker of something deeper crossed his face when he reached the "devastatingly handsome face" comment—nostalgia, maybe, or quiet disbelief that they had ever been that young and childish. His fingers lingered over the Polaroid tucked between the pages, tracing the edge where the ink had smudged from time, his expression unreadable.  

And then—the last page.  

The one where Hanbin had written, years ago, I notice all of it .  

His breath hitched. Just once. Just enough for Hao to hear it.  

For a long moment, Hanbin didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at the page like it held something he hadn’t expected to find.  

Then, without a word, he stood.  

The chair scraped softly against the floor as he pushed it back, his movements careful. He stood close enough that Hao could see the faint tremor in his hands.  

And then—arms open.  

“Come here.”  

Hao didn’t hesitate. He crossed the small space between them in one stride, burying his face in Hanbin’s neck, arms locking around his waist. Hanbin held him just as tightly, one hand cradling the back of his head like he was something precious.  

They stayed like that for a long moment before Hanbin pressed a kiss to his temple and murmured, “Bedroom.”  

Hao let himself be guided, Hanbin's arm a warm, familiar weight around his shoulders. The scent of garlic and soy still clung to Hanbin's shirt from dinner, mixing with the faint citrus of his cologne. Their socked feet shuffled against the hardwood floor in unison, the quiet creak of the boards marking their path down the hallway like a trail of breadcrumbs leading to memory.

Once inside their bedroom, Hanbin released him only to immediately climb onto their rumpled bed, the sheets still bearing the impression of Hao's body from his nap earlier. Moonlight streamed through the half-open blinds, painting silver stripes across Hanbin's back as he stretched toward the top shelf of their closet, fingers brushing against something hidden behind a stack of spare blankets.

"What are you—" Hao began, but the words died in his throat when Hanbin pulled out a worn leather album.

Hao's breath caught. The cover—once a rich chestnut brown—had faded to honey-gold in patches from years of handling. But he'd recognize it anywhere: the same one they'd bought together from that little stationery shop near campus, back when "forever" still felt like a concept too big to hold. The spine cracked slightly as Hanbin opened it, releasing the faintest scent of aged paper and dried flowers.

There, preserved between translucent sheets, were fragments of their beginning: Two ticket stubs from the winter concert where Hanbin had first kissed him backstage. A series of blurry selfies taken after midnight study sessions, their faces pressed together in the glow of Hanbin's phone. The pressed daisy from his recital, its purple edges now brittle but still clinging to color after all these years. And—Hao's fingers twitched toward it—a strip of photo booth pictures from their six-month anniversary, Hanbin's lips pressed to his in every frame.

"What's this?" Hao whispered, stepping closer until his knees bumped the mattress. His voice cracked around the words. "How did you—how did you keep this hidden from me for five years?"

Hanbin's grin was unrepentant, but his eyes shone with something tender in the low light. "You think you're the only one who gets to be sentimental?" Hanbin flipped to a page near the middle, revealing a napkin pressed between the sheets. The embossed logo of La Mergellina was still visible in one corner - that tiny Italian restaurant, where the lights had flickered from a summer storm outside the night Hanbin proposed. 

Hao's breath caught as he recognized his own scrawl across the center: " Yes yes a thousand times yes " With a lopsided heart beneath it, the ink smudged where his shaking hands had gripped it that night.

"You kept this?" Hao whispered, tracing the edge.

Hanbin's smile was soft with memory. "The waiter handed it to me after you ran to the bathroom to fix yourself after crying. Said you'd scribbled it when I was paying the check." He brushed his thumb over a crumpled part. 

Hao reached for it, hands trembling, but Hanbin held it just out of reach with a soft chuckle.

"Ah-ah." He patted the space beside him, the mattress dipping under his weight. "Sit. We're going through it together." His voice dropped to that tone Hao had never been able to resist—warm and promising, like sunlight through honey. "Every page. Every memory. I want to hear what you remember too."

As Hao climbed onto the bed, Hanbin caught his wrist, pressing a kiss to his palm before guiding his hand to rest atop the album. The leather was warm from Hanbin's grip, the texture familiar beneath his fingertips—like rediscovering a part of himself he hadn't realized was missing.

Hanbin carefully turned the first page of the album, his fingers brushing over the protective film. "I made it in order," he said softly. "From the very beginning to now."  

Hao leaned closer, their shoulders touching. The first page was surprisingly sparse—just a single polaroid of a cozy little café with a faded sign that read "Ludia Café" in cursive letters.  

"Our first meeting," Hanbin said, grinning. "I wish I had something from that day—maybe a picture of you covered in coffee, or me panicking—but I figured your dramatic entrance into my mom’s café was proof enough."  

Hao snorted. "You spilled an iced americano down my shirt and then just stood there like a deer in headlights."  

"In my defense," Hanbin said, flipping the page, "you were wearing all white like some kind of untouchable angel. I was already nervous before I even dropped the cup."  

The next page held again, a single photograph—the same dimly lit Italian restaurant, its tables draped in white linen, wine glasses catching the candlelight. Hanbin murmured. "Our first date"  

"Where you proposed years later," Hao finished, smiling.  

"Why is there only a picture of the restaurant?" Hao whined, poking the page. "Where’s me? I wore that long olive dress with the bareback—the one you couldn’t stop staring at!"  

Hanbin groaned, rubbing his face. "It would’ve been so weird if I’d just taken a picture of you across the table like some creep on our second meeting."  

"You wanted to, though," Hao teased.  

"Of course, I wanted to," Hanbin admitted, his ears turning pink. "You looked like a goddess, honest to God. But I was too busy trying not to choke on my own tongue to pull out my phone."  

Hao laughed, pulling out his own phone. "Fine. I’ll send you one later that you can print and add here. I still have pictures from that night."  

Hanbin’s eyes lit up. "You kept them?"  

"Obviously," Hao said, rolling his eyes.  

Hanbin traced the restaurant photo, his voice softening. "I remember how nervous I was. I practiced ordering in Italian for days—"  

"And then you asked for penne al cazzo instead of pomodoro," Hao cut in, grinning.  

Hanbin groaned. "The waiter laughed at me."  

"I thought you were being bold," Hao said, nudging him. "Until you turned bright red and started stammering."  

Hanbin covered his face. "And then my watch got tangled in your bracelet when I tried to pull out your chair—"  

"And we both knocked over the wine glass at the same time," Hao finished, laughing.  

"Disaster," Hanbin muttered.  

The next page was a full spread—a series of photos from Hanbin’s first college dance showcase. The first was a high-energy shot of him mid-whack, his body angled sharply, muscles taut with precision. The next was a close-up of him tutting, fingers locked in intricate formations, his expression fierce.  

"You came to this one unannounced," Hanbin said, his voice warm. "I didn’t even know you were there until I saw you in the front row during my last set."  

Hao remembered it vividly—how Hanbin had moved like liquid fire, every pop and lock sharp enough to cut glass. How the crowd had roared, but Hao had just sat there, breathless, unable to look away.  

Beside the photos, Hanbin had tucked a printed screenshot of their texts from that night:  

Hao [11:47 PM]: You dance like the music lives inside your bones.  

Hanbin [11:49 PM]: YOU WERE THERE???  

Hao [11:50 PM]: …Maybe.  

"You printed this?" Hao groaned.  

"Of course I did," Hanbin said, grinning. "It was the first time you said something nice to me."  

Hao shoved him.  

The next pages were a whirlwind of memories—photos of them with friends at bars, in parks, in libraries, in the university cafeteria, Hanbin’s arm slung over Hao’s shoulders, both of them grinning like fools. Then the jarring transition to glossy club lighting—a Polaroid showed them tangled in a dim corner, Hao's fingers twisted in Hanbin's shirt collar, Hanbin's hand disappearing under the hem of Hao's waistband. He could still hear Matthew's drunken cackle when he'd tossed the photo at them the next morning. " You're welcome for the documentation, assholes."

Hao flipped a random photo—a blurry shot of them at a house party—and paused.  

There, written on the back:  

"You fell asleep on my shoulder tonight. I didn’t move for two hours."  

Hao’s chest tightened.  

Hanbin, noticing his silence, peeked over. "Oh. That one."  

"You wrote on them?" Hao asked, his voice softer than he intended.  

Hanbin shrugged, suddenly shy. "Just… little things I didn’t want to forget."  

Hao turned to another photo—a selfie of them at a park—and found another note on the back:  

"You stole my hoodie today. It looks better on you."  

And another, on a picture of Hao playing the violin:  

"You get this look when you play—like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I could watch you forever."  

Hao swallowed hard.  

Hanbin reached over, gently closing the album. "Too much?"  

Hao shook his head, pulling him into a tight hug. "No. Just… perfect."  

Hanbin held him close, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Good. Because there’s way more where that came from."  

Hao reopened the album, flipping through the pages slowly - until one photo made him freeze.

There, tucked between protective sheets, was a slightly blurry photo of them squeezed into the back of a taxi. Hanbin’s arm was around Hao’s shoulders, but their smiles were tense—the kind that didn’t reach their eyes.  

“This was…” Hao trailed off, fingers hovering over the image.  

“The day we were supposed to meet your mom,” Hanbin finished softly. “Right before our biggest fight.”  

Hao remembered it too well—the way Hanbin had nervously adjusted his collar the entire ride, how Hao had snapped at him to stop fidgeting, how the tension had coiled tighter with every block. They’d argued in the parking lot outside Hao's place, harsh words swallowed by the city noise. “ You’re not ready for this, I don't even know why I'm bringing you” Hao had said, voice cracking. Hanbin had looked like he’d been slapped.  

And yet—they’d still taken this photo.  

Hao flipped it over.  

“No matter how bad it gets—you’re it for me. Always.”  

His throat tightened.  

Hanbin reached over, lacing their fingers together. “We made up, though.”  

“Eventually,” Hao muttered, but he squeezed Hanbin’s hand back.  

The next page held twin moments frozen in time: On the left, Hao in his graduation gown, drowning in a ridiculous bouquet of sunflowers, Hanbin's doing, naturally, his face half-hidden but his joy radiating through the petals. On the right, Hanbin's matching graduation photo slotted neatly beside it - placed there precisely one year later. A single line arched beneath Hanbin's picture:  

“I added this here exactly a year after yours.”

“You looked so proud,” Hanbin murmured.  

“I was annoyed,” Hao corrected, though his voice was fond. “This thing was bigger than my torso.”  

“Exactly. Had to make sure everyone knew I would always get you the biggest bouquet out there.”  

Hao rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He'd actually kept every sunflower, pressing them between the pages of Hanbin's old letters.

A polaroid of them at a dimly lit jazz bar, Hanbin’s lips pressed to Hao’s cheek, right next to his lips, as Hao pretended to scowl. The caption beneath read: 

“ The year you ‘hated’ Valentine’s Day but still wore the red silk skirt I bought you. ”  

“I did hate it,” Hao insisted. “You forced me.”  

“You preened,” Hanbin shot back, grinning. “Admit it. You love being spoiled.”  

Hao huffed but didn’t deny it.  

Hanbin turned to a page near the album’s end, where a single photograph lay protected beneath crisp archival paper.  

The image captured Hao’s hand suspended in golden evening light, fingers slender and elegant, a platinum band glinting on his ring finger. Hanbin’s own hand cradled his beneath it—steadying, reverent—their skin tones contrasting like polished wood against marble. The blurred background of that Italian restaurant terrace was just visible, strands of fairy lights melting into bokeh.  

“That night,” Hanbin murmured, tracing the photo’s edge. “You didn’t even let me finish my speech.”  

Hao remembered: the way the sunset had gilded Hanbin’s nervous smile, how his voice had cracked on “forever”, and how Hao had yanked him up by his tie before the final syllable. The ring—was cool and perfect as it slid onto his finger.  

“Your hands were shaking,” Hao said softly.  

"My whole body was." Hanbin laughed, pressing a kiss to Hao's knuckles—now bare, their wedding band safely stored while cooking. "Worth every second."

Hao’s fingers then brushed against something unexpected - the spine of another album tucked discreetly behind the first. Volume Two, the label, read.

Hao's eyebrows shot up as he pulled it out. "You made volumes?" His voice cracked slightly on the last word.

Hanbin just smiled that soft, private smile of his, the one that always made Hao feel like they were sharing a secret. "Open it," he murmured, scooting closer until their shoulders pressed together.

The first page transported them back instantly - their tiny first apartment, all mismatched furniture and dreams. The photo showed their bed crammed into what was essentially a closet, their few nice plates displayed proudly on rickety shelves. Hanbin's caption read: 

“Our palace. You threatened to murder me when I put my socks on the radiator. I still do it sometimes just to see that look on your face.”

Hao snorted, but his chest felt tight. He remembered that radiator. Remembered how Hanbin would warm his socks there before handing them to him on cold mornings.

As he turned the page, time unfolded before them. Here were the wedding preparations they'd both forgotten about - Hao asleep on a pile of fabric samples, Hanbin practicing his vows in the bathroom mirror with ridiculous seriousness. Then came photos from their engagement party: Hao's mother crying, Areum photobombing every picture with increasingly absurd faces.

The wedding section took up several pages. Alongside the professional shots were dozens of stolen moments - Hanbin helping Hao into his suit while pretending not to be nervous, the way Hao's hands had shaken tying Hanbin's tie. There was a particularly tender one of them sharing a quiet moment behind the venue, foreheads pressed together, the noise of guests just audible beyond the doorframe.

"These are..." Hao trailed off, fingers hovering over a photo of Hanbin crying during their first dance. He'd never seen that one before.

"Our honeymoon," Hanbin said softly as Hao turned to the next section. There they were in Thailand, windblown and sunburnt, sharing a single ice cream cone. Another showed Hao asleep on Hanbin's shoulder during the ferry ride, Hanbin looking down at him with such open adoration it made Hao's breath catch even now.

Then came the positive test balanced precariously on the edge of their bathroom sink, the plastic stick looking absurdly small against the tiles. Hao remembered that moment with crystal clarity - how they'd both stared at it in stunned silence before bursting into simultaneous laughter and tears.

The album unfolded their life together in vivid fragments - Hao's first ultrasound where he'd death-gripped Hanbin's hand, the way Hanbin would rub his feet every night without being asked, the comical tower of takeout containers during his pregnancy cravings;

"Crab fried rice phase," Hanbin had written. "Week 12-14.”

Then came the harder pages. The hospital bed where Hao lay too pale under fluorescent lights, Hanbin's hand locked around his ankle like a lifeline. The caption simply said: 

“The longest night. But we made it through.”

Hao had to pause there, swallowing hard. Hanbin's arm came around him wordlessly, pulling him closer.

The pages that followed were brighter - Haneul's nursery half-painted, both of them covered in more primer than the walls. The gender reveal party where their friends' faces were frozen mid-scream under a shower of pink confetti. Hao heavily pregnant and fast asleep on the couch, Hanbin's oversized hoodie stretched comically over his belly.

The very last picture made Hao's stomach drop.  

There he was—mid-push, face contorted with effort, his entire body arched off the hospital bed like a drawn bow. Sweat soaked through his gown, his teeth bared in a grimace as he fought to bring their daughter into the world. The baby wasn't even visible yet, just the raw, unfiltered reality of birth frozen in time.  

Hao swatted Hanbin's arm hard enough to make him yelp. "I told you I didn't want to see this picture ever again!" His ears burned with humiliation. "And you went ahead and printed it? In glossy?"  

Hanbin caught his wrist, grinning unrepentantly. "It's important documentation!"  

"It's blackmail material!"  

"Same thing." Hanbin kissed his knuckles, undeterred by Hao's glare. "Look at you," he murmured, suddenly earnest. His thumb traced the photo—the tension in Hao's shoulders, the way his calves trembled with strain. "You were...god, Hao. You were magnificent."  

Hao opened his mouth to argue, but the reverence in Hanbin's voice stole his words. The photo was awful. He looked wrecked. And yet—  

Hanbin had kept it. Had treasured it.  

"Fine," Hao muttered, shoving him once again. "But if you ever show this to anyone, I'm filing for divorce."  

Hanbin beamed, "Noted."  

The third volume fell open in Hao's lap like a confession. That first photo—their daughter in the NICU, her tiny body nearly swallowed by wires and tubes—still punched the air from his lungs even now. His thumb traced the edge of the image, remembering how her fingers had felt like butterfly wings around his pinky.

"You took this when I wasn't looking," Hao murmured, his voice thick.

Hanbin pressed his upper body against his, solid and warm. "You were always looking at her," he said softly. "I was looking at you."

The next page showed Hao collapsed against the incubator, his face pressed to the plastic, exhaustion carved into every line of his body. He remembered those endless nights—the beeping machines, the way his eyes would burn from staring at her chest rising and falling, the terror that if he blinked too long, she might—

"I don't remember sleeping," Hao admitted.

"You didn't." Hanbin's finger hovered over the photo. "You'd wake up every fifteen minutes to check the monitors. Once, you screamed so loud the nurses came running because you dreamed her alarms had gone off."

The memory should have been painful, but something loosened in Hao's chest. He'd forgotten how Hanbin had wrapped both arms around him that night, how he'd whispered "She's right here, she's okay" until Hao's breathing matched their daughter's steady rhythm.

The next spread glowed with golden light—their first day home, Hao clutching their daughter to his chest like she was made of glass, his face a mix of terror and wonder.

"I was so scared I'd drop her," Hao confessed.

Hanbin chuckled. "You didn't put her down for six hours. I had to stage a coup just to hold my own child." His laughter faded as he touched the photo. "You carried her through that doorway like you were carrying the whole world."

The pages unfolded like a map of their love—their daughter's first bath (Hao's white-knuckled grip on the towel, Hanbin's teasing from behind the camera), her first real smile (caught mid-giggle, both fists in the air), the day Hao's mother met her (tears streaming as she whispered "just like you were" against her granddaughter's forehead).

Then—movement. Their daughter took her first wobbling steps toward Hanbin's outstretched arms. On her first birthday, cake smeared across her cheeks as Hao pretended to scold her while Hanbin cheered. 

Interspersed were quiet moments Hao had forgotten: himself asleep on the nursery floor with their daughter curled on his chest, Hanbin's hoodie draped over them both. Hao guided her tiny fingers on a violin bow, both their brows furrowed in identical concentration. The three of them tangled together on rainy Sundays, a mess of storybooks and mismatched socks.

A vibrant spread captured their first Lunar New Year together—their daughter resplendent in red silk, wide-eyed at the fireworks in Hanbin's arms while Hao lit lanterns beside them. The next page showed the aftermath: their daughter covered in tang yuan filling, wailing as the sticky rice clung to her fingers while Hao laughed through his attempts to clean her.

"Classic," Hanbin snorted. "Demands independence, then hates the consequences."

"Hao turned the final page—and froze. There they were, Hanbin's arms wrapped around them both, their cheeks pressed against their daughter's from either side as she giggled in mock protest. The late afternoon sun gilded them in gold, wrapping the moment in warmth. Beneath it read: 

“TieTie.”

Something warm and bright burst in Hao's chest. All those sleepless nights, the terror, the doubt—they'd built this. This joy, this light, this perfect, imperfect family.

"You kept all of it," Hao whispered, his voice breaking. "Even the hard parts."

Hanbin pressed their joined hands to Hao's chest. "Especially the hard parts," he murmured. "They're what made us.”

Hao closed the album slowly, his fingers lingering on the cover. The weight of it in his hands felt different now—not just a collection of memories, but a living testament to how much their world had shifted. He turned to Hanbin, who was watching him with that soft, knowing look, the one that always saw too much.  

"You know," Hao began, voice quiet, "While looking through these pages, I realized something."  

Hanbin tilted his head, curious. "Hm?"  

"There are more photos of Haneul than of me now."  

Hanbin blinked, then laughed—light, teasing. "Oh? Is someone jealous?"  

Hao didn’t smile back. "No. Not exactly." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "It’s just—I’ve been thinking. About how life works. How things change."  

Hanbin’s smile faded. He shifted closer, his knee brushing Hao’s. "Talk to me."  

Hao opened the album again and looked down, his finger hovering over a photo from their first-anniversary trip—just the two of them tangled in hotel sheets, champagne flutes abandoned on the nightstand. The memory felt like it belonged to different people.

"Do you remember when we used to take photos of just us?" Hao's voice sounded foreign to his own ears. "When every picture was about this—" He gestured between them. "About you and me? Now it’s like…" He swallowed hard. "Now, even when I’m alone, I’m thinking about her. What she needs, what she’s doing, if she’s okay. And I never thought that would happen. That I could love someone so much it would… rewrite my entire DNA."

The confession hung between them. He hadn’t meant to say it—hadn’t even fully realized it until the words escaped. But it was true. Somewhere between midnight feedings and toy gatherings, he’d lost track of who he was outside of "Mama." 

The violin is gathering dust in their bedroom corner. The half-finished composition books are stuffed in a drawer. The way he sometimes stood in the grocery aisle for five minutes trying to remember what he liked to eat, not what their daughter preferred or what Hanbin would compliment him for cooking.

Hanbin was silent for a long moment. Then, softly: "You’re scared."

"I’m terrified," Hao admitted voice cracking. "What if we lose us in all of this? What if we wake up one day and realize we don’t know how to be just Hanbin and Hao anymore?" The fear tasted metallic on his tongue. "Sometimes I look in the mirror and don’t recognize myself. Just… someone’s mother. Someone’s wife. Where did I go?"

Hanbin reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Look." He flipped to a page near the back—a photo Hao hadn’t noticed. There he was, asleep on the couch with their daughter napping on his chest, one hand still clutching his violin bow. The caption read: 

“2 AM practice session. She cried until you played Brahms. Like mother, like daughter.”

"You’re still there," Hanbin murmured, thumb brushing the photo. "Just expanded. Like…" He paused, searching for the words. "Like how a tree grows new rings without erasing the old ones."

Hao’s vision blurred. He remembered that night—how he’d played lullabies until his fingers ached, how their daughter had finally sighed and settled against his heartbeat. He hadn’t realized Hanbin had seen that moment for what it was: not just parenting, but Hao surviving. Creating. Being.

Hanbin turned another page, revealing a sneaky selfie—Hao in sweatpants, covered in paint, halfway through transforming their hallway into a mural at 3 AM. The caption: 

“Midnight Picasso phase (week 7 of sleep regression). Our walls will never recover.”

A wet laugh escaped Hao. "I forgot about this."

"You were so alive that night," Hanbin said softly. "Even exhausted. Especially exhausted." He brought Hao’s hand to his lips. "We’re still us. Just us with more… layers now."

"How do you know?"  

"Because," Hanbin said, squeezing his hand, "I think about it too. All the time. How we don’t kiss as much as we used to. How we fall asleep talking about preschools instead of stupid things. How sometimes, I look at you and realize I haven’t really looked at you in days." He brought Hao’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "But then I remember—we’re still here and we’re still us. “

Hao let out a shaky breath. "When did you get so wise?"  

Hanbin grinned, the tension breaking. "Since I became a dad, obviously. It’s, like, a requirement."  

Hao shoved him, but he was laughing now, wetly. "Shut up."  

Hanbin pulled him into a hug, his voice muffled against Hao’s shoulder. "We’re gonna be okay. All four of us."  

Hao closed his eyes, holding on tight. "Yeah," he whispered. "We are."  

Hao’s fingers tightened around Hanbin’s, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you ever think about… after?"  

Hanbin stilled. "After?"  

"When Haneul is grown. When she doesn’t need us like she does now. When our second baby is off living their own life." Hao’s thumb traced the lines of Hanbin’s palm. "When it’s just you and me again, in an empty house, with nothing but time and memories."  

Hanbin’s breath hitched. He hadn’t let himself think that far ahead—not really. But now, the image unfolded like a bittersweet film: their children, grown and gone. The quiet of a home that once echoed with laughter. Just the two of them, older, slower, their hands still intertwined.  

"Yeah," Hanbin admitted softly. "Sometimes."  

Hao turned to him, eyes glistening. "Promise me something."  

"Anything."  

"That when that time comes…" Hao swallowed hard. "You won’t let me go alone. That even if we’re old and gray, and it’s our time to leave this life… you’ll go with me."  

Hanbin’s chest ached. He cupped Hao’s face, his touch as familiar as his own heartbeat. "Hao."  

"Promise me," Hao insisted, voice breaking. "I don’t want to live a single day in a world without you. And I don’t want you to have to, either."  

Hanbin pulled him close, their foreheads touching. "I promise," he whispered. "Where you go, I go. Always."  

Hao let out a shuddering breath, his shoulders relaxing as if a weight had lifted. "Good," he murmured. "Because I’d haunt you if you didn’t."  

Hanbin laughed, wet and shaky. "I’d expect nothing less."  

They sat there in the quiet, the album forgotten between them, lost in thoughts of a future both beautiful and heartbreaking.  

"We’ll have so many memories by then," Hanbin said after a while. "Enough to fill a hundred albums."  

Hao smiled faintly. "And you’ll still be taking pictures of me when I’m eighty and complaining about it."  

"Of course," Hanbin agreed, kissing his temple. "Every wrinkle. Every gray hair. Every second."  

Hao leaned into him, closing his eyes. "Okay," he whispered. "Okay."