#5 Ingredients or Less | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seospicybin · 4 months ago

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TOO CROWDED.

Lee Know x reader. (s,f)

Chapters: Wrong crowd / In the crowd / Crowded

Synopsis: Years of marriage haven’t fully prepared Minho for the arrival of a new family member or the changes that come with his growing family. As he navigates these new challenges, he realizes that love and family are constantly evolving in ways he never expected. (19,3k words)

Author's note: To the Crowd enthusiasts, thank you for patiently waiting & hope you enjoy this one too ♡

It’s Saturday, yet Minho wakes up early as usual, his internal clock refusing to let him sleep past 5:30 a.m.

The first thing he does is shift closer to your side of the bed, slipping his arm around you and gently pulling you into his embrace. His lips press a soft kiss to your cheek, careful not to wake you. You deserve more sleep. For a moment, he enjoys the warmth of your body against his, spooning you, before placing another kiss on your bare shoulder and quietly slipping out of bed.

Next, he pads across the hall to your daughter’s room, slowly pushing the door open. Peeking inside, he smiles when he sees Byeol still fast asleep, clutching her blanket tightly. The sight of her peaceful face always fills him with a deep sense of contentment��knowing she feels safe and loved. He brushes a gentle hand over her cheek, then quietly leaves, letting her sleep a little longer.

Minho heads downstairs to the kitchen. As the coffee brews, he washes up, brushes his teeth, and makes his way to the rooftop to water the potted plants. Returning to the kitchen, he pours himself a cup of coffee and settles at the dining table, handling bills and a few business emails.

By 7:00 a.m., he’s pulling ingredients from the fridge to prepare breakfast, not forgetting to pack a lunchbox for Byeol. Halfway through stirring pancake batter, he catches sight of you wandering into the kitchen, your hair a tousled mess and a sleepy smile on your lips.

"Morning," you mumble, slipping your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your face against his back. You cling to him for a while as he works over the stove, only moving to kiss his cheek before grabbing his mug and refilling it with more coffee for yourself.

Minho glances at the clock, then at you. "Enjoying your coffee?"

"Mmhmm," you murmur, savoring the warm drink.

"Can you go wake up our daughter?" he asks, focused on flipping a pancake.

"I thought we're cool parents," You groan playfully, holding your mug. "It’s Saturday. Let her sleep!"

"Today’s the school trip." He reminds you.

"Oh, shit!" you grumble, setting down your coffee. You tie your robe and shoot him a quick grin. "Wish me luck!"

Minho smiles as you head to Byeol’s room, knowing it won’t be hard to wake her. She’s been talking about the trip all week, and sure enough, it takes you less than five minutes to have her running to the kitchen for breakfast.

"Here’s your delinquent daughter, sir," you joke, pulling out a chair for her.

Minho places the last pancake on the growing stack. He brings the plate over to the table, feigning seriousness as he addresses Byeol. "Young lady, you’re sentenced to live with us until you're of age and eat all these pancakes without any maple syrup or strawberries."

Byeol doesn’t even blink at her father’s odd sense of humor. She knows exactly what it means: they’re out of her favorite toppings.

"How about bananas?" she asks innocently.

"We’re out of bananas!" you call from behind the counter, pouring yourself more coffee.

Minho pats his daughter’s shoulder. "Tough luck."

But you come to the rescue, placing a bowl of blueberries and whipped cream next to her plate. "We’ve got these, though."

Byeol beams, picking up her fork. "Thanks, Mommy."

It’s never a competition between you two when it comes to earning Byeol’s affection, but with work keeping you busy most of the time, Minho likes creating little moments where she can bond with you. It’s just another way he shows how much he loves his two girls.

Minho points his spatula at you, narrowing his eyes. "I’ll let you have this win."

You make a face at him, and he turns away to hide his laughter.

The morning quickly becomes hectic as you both scramble to get Byeol ready for her school trip. Minho helps her pack while you diligently apply sunscreen to her.

"We’re not going to the beach. Why do I need sunblock?" Byeol complains.

"Because I don’t want you coming home looking like a blob of slime," you reply without missing a beat, finishing her legs. "Do you want to be a blob of slime?"

"No," she mutters while giggling.

"Good!" You adjust her socks and tighten her shoelaces, then let her go.

Dropping Byeol off at school is usually stressful—other moms often stare at him—but with you by his side, he feels more relaxed.

The parking lot is packed as parents say goodbye to their kids. Minho carries Byeol’s backpack while you walk hand in hand with her. When it’s time for the trip, you kneel down to Byeol’s level, fussing over her ponytail and clothes, unable to help yourself.

"Be good, okay?" you say softly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "Listen to Miss Sara, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask."

"Okay, Mommy," Byeol nods.

You pull her into a hug, holding on like you’re sending her off to war rather than a school trip.

"Don’t forget to drink water, eat your lunch, and—"

"I’ll be okay, Mommy," Byeol assures you with a smile.

You sigh, reluctantly letting her go. "And have fun!"

Minho chuckles quietly at how grown-up your six-year-old is acting. He bends down, hugging her and planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

"We’ll pick you up later," he reminds her.

"Yes, Daddy."

After a quick wave, Byeol boards the bus. You both stand watching until the bus pulls away, your hand slipping into Minho’s as you turn to head back to the car.

"It’s a beautiful day," you sigh contentedly, gazing up at the sky. "And we have the whole afternoon to ourselves."

He grins, watching how relaxed you suddenly look. "What do you want to do?"

You swing his hand playfully, thinking. "How about we grab some take-out and have a picnic?"

"Sounds good," Minho says, unlocking the car.

"We can get your favorite pudding for dessert," you add, already planning the afternoon.

As you buckle your seatbelt, you turn to him, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Or…"

"Or what?"

You place your hand on his knee and grin. "Or we stay home and make babies?"

Minho raises an eyebrow at the sudden suggestion, amused but not surprised. He doesn’t mind the idea at all, but with how nice the weather is, staying inside seems like a waste.

You squeeze his knee gently. "So? What’s it going to be?"

Minho glances between you and the road ahead, the decision already made. He pulls the car onto the street, heading in the direction of home.

Everyone in the parlor has asked for the weekend off to enjoy the summer, so Minho granted it, leaving the parlor downstairs closed until Tuesday.

This also means you and Minho have the whole building to yourselves and you obviously going to make the most of this rare moment. You push him onto the sofa, straddling him without hesitation, your mouth crashing against his. Your body moves on its own, hands frantically unbuttoning his shirt while your hips grind against his crotch. Your lips continuously press against his, breath heavy and hungry.

He holds you close, one hand resting on the small of your back while the other tangles in your hair, fisting it as he tilts your head to the side, giving him access to your neck.

“Honey, not a hickey, please?” you mutter breathlessly as his teeth graze your skin.

He drags his lips up to your ear, playfully biting at it. “Why not? You look good with one,” he teases, his words punctuated by a wet kiss on your jaw.

“We still have to pick up your daughter later,” you remind him, not wanting to give the other parents something to gossip about.

“Afraid they’ll be jealous of you?” he murmurs.

“You think you’re that hot, huh?”

His hand slips beneath your dress, fingers teasing your clothed sex, tracing over your clit. The pressure makes you gasp as he rubs slow, deliberate circles. His smirk is devilish, eyes dark with lust.

“I know I am,” he says confidently.

You can’t deny the heat pooling inside you as his fingers work their magic. “Honey…” you whine, though you don’t truly mind.

Suddenly, he shifts, gently lifting you off his lap and laying you down on the sofa. His shirt falls to the floor, exposing his toned chest. With a heated gaze, he pushes the hem of your dress up, tugging at the waistband of your underwear. He pulls it down slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving yours. He parts your legs with his hands, lowering himself between your thighs without a word. His mouth trails wet kisses down the inside of your thigh before he dives in, pressing his mouth to your wetness.

A whimper escapes your lips as his tongue expertly teases you. You can’t help but close your eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation as he takes his time savoring every inch of you. Occasionally, you glance down to see his head buried between your legs, his tattooed arms wrapped around your thighs. The sight alone sends waves of arousal through you.

“Honey, oh…” you moan as he sucks on your clit, your body trembling with need.

Minho lifts his head, his mouth glistening with your essence. He flicks his tongue against your sensitive clit, his dark eyes watching your every reaction.

“Oh, God…” you moan loudly, unafraid, knowing you’re alone in the house.

His lips close around your clit once more, sucking gently as he slides two fingers inside you. The dual sensations have you gasping, eyes rolling back as your grip on the sofa tightens.

“Oh, honey… that feels so good,” you mutter breathlessly, barely able to think as pleasure overwhelms you.

Your noises only encourage him, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony, pushing you closer to your high. Your hands tug at his hair, legs trembling as he holds them open, keeping you steady as he pushes you toward the edge.

It doesn’t take long until you cum against his mouth, your body trembling as Minho eagerly drinks in your release. His tongue moves with precision, lapping up every drop of your essence as you ride out your climax, the sensation overwhelming in the best way. He doesn’t shy away, savoring you completely as you come undone beneath him.

Breathless, you feel the need to return the favor. Without a word, you push him back slightly and reach for his shirt. You peel it off, revealing his inked body, each line and curve of the tattoos forever captivating you. Your lips trail over his skin, kissing his chest, neck, and down to the waistband of his jeans, inhaling his natural, intoxicating scent along the way.

Dropping to your knees, you deftly undo the button and fly of his jeans, the sound of the zipper cutting through the quiet room. His growing arousal is clear as you take his hardening length from its confines. You wrap your hand around him, stroking slowly while locking eyes with him, savoring the way his breath hitches in anticipation.

Minho leans back into the sofa, head resting against the cushions as his body relaxes into your touch. He gives you all the room you need, a silent invitation to take control. You waste no time, your mouth closing around his length, warm and wet as you begin to pleasure him.

His hand gently moves to your hair, brushing it out of the way as he watches you intently. "Keep going, honey," he murmurs, his voice soft yet commanding, his thumb brushing your cheek affectionately as you take him deeper.

Your lips glide smoothly along his shaft, your hand stroking the base while your mouth works the rest. His quiet moans and gasps fuel your movements, encouraging you as you bring him closer to the edge. You feel him tense beneath you, his release fast approaching.

Moments later, his body shudders, and he spills into your mouth, his cum spilling onto your tongue. A few drops land on your lips and chin, painting your skin. Minho gazes down at you, his dark eyes full of desire as if admiring his handiwork.

"I know it’s a lot, but I want you to swallow it for me, honey," he whispers, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw.

Obediently, you close your mouth and swallow, your throat working to take him in. You open your mouth again afterward, showing him that you’ve done as he asked, a mischievous glint in your eye.

A satisfied smirk plays at the corner of his lips, and he pulls you up to straddle him once more. His hands find your waist, holding you firmly as he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. He kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he can taste himself on you.

For a while, the two of you simply sit there, your bodies pressed together, enjoying the rare and uninterrupted intimacy. There's no rush, no need for words—just the quiet, perfect moment shared between you.

This moment here is yours and yours only.

To cool down from the heat of the day, you grab two cans of cold beer from the fridge and hand one to Minho before plopping down beside him on the sofa. Without a word, you take his arm and drape it over your shoulder, snuggling in as close as possible. His presence is comforting, and today, you crave it more than usual.

“To making babies!” you chime, raising your can.

“To making babies!” Minho echoes, clinking his beer can against yours. You both take hearty gulps, the cold liquid instantly refreshing as it runs down your throats.

For months now, you and Minho have been trying to have another child, but despite your best efforts, the results haven't come. You both decided to stop stressing about it and just enjoy the process. And right now, enjoying the process is exactly what’s on your mind.

You softly trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips, feeling the light stubble there. “This mouth still knows how to make me feel good,” you mutter, your words laced with affection.

Minho smirks faintly at your compliment. “This mouth always takes me well,” he teases back, making you laugh softly.

You smile, leaning into him. “I think we’ve been working really well on this baby-making thing.”

“We make a great team,” he remarks, his hand snaking around your neck as he pulls you toward him, placing a kiss on your lips. His lips are warm, a reminder of the connection you both share.

“But honey…” he murmurs as he pulls back just enough to gaze at you, “We haven’t even started making babies yet.”

You narrow your eyes at him, catching onto the playful glint in his gaze. “Oh, yeah, you’re right.”

What happened earlier was just the warm-up, the teasing foreplay. The real fun, the true attempt, is still ahead. You take the can from his hand and place it on the coffee table, along with yours, before climbing onto his lap. Your arms loop around his neck as you straddle him, the closeness already setting your skin on fire.

Minho’s hands are quick to move, his fingers finding the zipper at the back of your dress. He tugs it down, the soft sound of it parting filling the quiet space. You help by pulling the dress over your head, tossing it onto the floor before pressing your body against his, skin to skin.

His lips capture yours in a slow, deep kiss, one that sends shivers down your spine. His hands roam your body, one sliding down your back until he reaches the curve of your rear, giving it a firm squeeze. You melt into his touch, sighing against his mouth.

“Let’s make cute babies, mmh?” you whisper, your lips brushing his before kissing him again.

“Yeah, let's make another little shit,” he jokes, a playful grin on his face as his hand lands a firm slap on your ass.

“Honey!” you shriek, though your sly smile gives away how much you’re enjoying it.

Maybe it’s the rare freedom of having the house to yourselves that makes Minho loosen up more than usual. He’s rougher, more intense, and you don’t hold back from showing how much you love every moment. Your moans fill the room as he thrusts into you, deep and purposeful, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you.

But then he slows down, deliberately pulling back just as you’re nearing your release, letting the tension slip away. He’s done it more than twice now, and it’s starting to drive you crazy.

“Minho, quit playing,” you grumble, gripping his shoulder, your frustration clear as your body aches for release.

“What?” he asks, playing dumb, a smirk plastered on his angular face.

“We have to pick up Byeol soon,” you remind him, your voice breathless. “We can’t be late.”

“Don’t worry, honey,” he reassures you, his words followed by a hasty kiss as he continues thrusting into you. “We’ll finish just in time.”

Minho always has his way, and you know it’s impossible to stop him when he wants something—especially this.

Later that night, you stand in the kitchen, watching the microwave hum as it cooks the popcorn. Your eyes drift toward the living room, where Minho and Byeol are sitting on the sofa, engrossed in a movie. Byeol, as animated as ever, is eagerly explaining something about the plot to her dad, her little hands moving in excitement.

It’s such a simple, everyday sight, yet it fills you with a deep sense of contentment. You can’t help but smile. Moments like this remind you of how lucky you are to have this life. But at the same time, a small voice inside asks: Do I really deserve all of this?

The microwave beeps, snapping you out of your thoughts. You grab the bowl you’ve prepared and carefully rip open the package, letting the freshly popped kernels spill into it. The warm, buttery scent fills the air as you carry the bowl to the living room.

You place the bowl of popcorn on Byeol’s lap, earning a sweet, “Thank you, mommy,” from her.

“You’re very welcome, honey,” you reply, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head before settling down next to Minho.

One arm wraps around his back as you nestle closer, resting your chin on his shoulder. You’ve always loved the way his tattoos curve along his neck, but what you love even more is kissing him there. So you do, placing a soft, lingering kiss on his skin, breathing in his familiar scent.

“How do you do it, honey?” you ask in a low voice.

Minho slightly turns his head, meeting your gaze as his hand moves to rest on top of yours, which lies comfortably on his chest. “What?”

“Act like you didn’t rearrange my guts hours ago on this very sofa?” you tease, a playful giggle escaping your lips.

He narrows his eyes at you, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. You can tell that the memory of your earlier activities is playing through his mind just like it is in yours. Instead of answering, he leans in and kisses you, his tongue sneaking past your lips in a move that’s definitely risky considering Byeol is just a few feet away. But Minho loves to push boundaries, and you love him for it.

Just as the kiss deepens, Byeol speaks up, her voice pulling you both back to reality. “Mommy, you have to watch this!” she pouts, her tone full of urgency. “This is the best part!”

You break the kiss with a soft laugh, one of those inevitable interruptions that come with being parents. You grab a handful of popcorn and turn your attention to the screen. “Okay, okay, Mommy’s watching,” you promise, your voice light as Minho keeps his hand laced with yours on his chest.

In moments like these, you realize something important: whether or not you ever have another child, you’re already blessed. Byeol is everything you could have ever asked for, and Minho—he’s been more than a great partner. He’s been a wonderful father and an unwavering source of love. Your marriage has been nothing short of bliss, and every day with them feels like a gift.

This is your family. Your little slice of forever. And you love them more than words can ever express.

It’s another day in Minho’s life, waking up early as usual. He stretches with a groan, then instinctively scoots closer to your side of the bed. His arm snakes around you, and he places a soft kiss on your neck, but something feels off.

Frowning, he props himself up on one elbow and gently moves the hair away from your face. The sheen of sweat on your forehead makes his concern grow. Minho presses the back of his hand to your neck, confirming what he fears—you’re burning up with a fever.

In an instant, he’s out of bed, hurrying to the medicine cabinet to grab the thermometer. When he returns, he presses the tip to your ear, waiting until the beep confirms it—you definitely have a fever.

“Honey,” he calls softly, his voice laced with worry as you shift under the covers. “You’re burning up.”

Your eyes flutter open, wincing as though it’s painful to wake. “I don’t feel well,” you croak.

“I’m going to get you some aspirin, okay?” Minho says, already half-jogging back to the cabinet, grabbing both the medicine and a glass of water.

He helps you sit up, watching closely as you take the aspirin and wash it down with a big gulp of water. Gently, he tucks you back into bed, pulling the blanket up to your chest.

“You’re not going to work today, okay?” Minho says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You nod weakly, your eyes already closing as you curl up, trying to get more rest.

Minho sighs, hating to see you like this. Looking so pale and fragile, it makes him feel helpless. But all he can do is be there for you.

“Just rest, mmh?” he murmurs softly, patting your head tenderly. He fixes the blanket again before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. As he closes the door, he hopes you’ll get the peace and rest you need.

His morning routine is thrown off, but he shifts focus, knowing he needs to get Byeol ready for school. He moves through the kitchen, preparing breakfast and her lunchbox, making sure everything’s packed and ready.

“Where’s mommy?” Byeol asks, noticing the absence at the breakfast table.

“Mommy’s not feeling well,” Minho explains, making a mental note to call your assistant and inform them that you won’t be able to work today.

“Mommy is sick?” Byeol’s face is full of concern, even with her mouth full of food.

“Yes, honey.” Minho places the lid on her lunchbox and tucks it into her bag.

Before leaving, Byeol insists on checking on you. She tiptoes into the bedroom, softly resting her head on your arm and placing a kiss on your hand, even though you’re fast asleep.

“Bye, bye, mommy,” she whispers. “Get well soon!”

If only you could see it, you’d know how much your little girl cherishes and loves you.

Minho follows suit, bending down to kiss your head. “I’ll be back soon, honey,” he whispers.

The whole morning passes while you sleep, and by the time Minho returns from his work downstairs, he finds you sitting up in bed, talking on the phone, probably informing the office about your sick day. He checks your temperature once more, relieved to find that the fever is starting to subside. Sitting next to you, he feels your head rest on his shoulder the moment you hang up the call.

“Feeling better?” he asks softly.

“Still feel like shit,” you mutter bluntly.

“You haven’t eaten anything,” Minho gently scolds. “Want me to make you something?”

You nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, taking a moment to think. “You know, I suddenly crave your fried rice.”

“Fried rice?” He raises an eyebrow, expecting you to want soup or something light.

“Mm-hmm,” you confirm, “and make it a little spicy.”

“Spicy fried rice?” Minho asks, slightly surprised, considering your low spice tolerance.

“Yes,” you insist, and he can’t help but smile.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles, giving in easily. He lingers a little longer, enjoying your warmth as you snuggle into him.

As he cooks in the kitchen, Minho is surprised when he sees you walking out of the bedroom. Slowly, you make your way to the sofa in the living room.

“I was about to bring it to you in bed,” he says, pouring the freshly made fried rice onto a plate.

“It’s okay,” you wave him off, sitting down with a sigh. “I needed to go to the bathroom anyway.”

He brings the food over, along with another aspirin and a glass of water. Sitting beside you, he watches as you take your first bite.

“Oh, God! This is so good,” you gush, as though tasting his fried rice for the first time.

“It’s not too spicy?”

“Actually, it’s not spicy enough,” you tease, which makes him laugh since he knows how low your spice tolerance usually is.

Time passes quickly, and soon, it’s almost time to pick up Byeol from school.

“Don’t forget to take your medicine after,” Minho reminds, kissing your head before standing up.

“Honey,” you call sweetly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask for more fried rice before you leave?” You flash him a playful grin.

How could he say no to that? “Of course, honey.”

When Byeol arrives home, she runs straight to you, burying her face in your chest, clearly happy to see you looking a little better.

“Mommy, don’t be sick!” she mumbles with such concern, it tugs at your heart.

“It’s just a fever, honey. Mommy will be okay,” you assure her, rubbing her back softly.

Minho watches the scene, understanding just how much you mean to Byeol and how much it affects you to see her worry. He heads back to the kitchen, preparing some snacks for her before his next appointment at the parlor.

“Take care of mommy while Daddy’s working, okay?” he says, giving Byeol a little responsibility.

Two hours later, Minho returns to find the two of you still in the living room. Byeol is busy working on her homework while you’ve fallen asleep on the sofa.

“Shh... mommy’s sleeping,” Byeol whispers as soon as she notices him approaching, her finger pressed to her lips.

Minho steps back with his hands raised. “Okay, sorry,” he whispers with a chuckle.

Still speaking in a hushed tone, Minho asks, “What do you want for dinner?”

Byeol thinks hard, a hand under her chin just like you do when making decisions. “Hmm... soup dumplings?”

Minho smiles. “Okay, soup dumplings it is.”

“Can Mommy eat soup dumplings when she’s sick?” Byeol asks, her thoughtfulness touching his heart.

“I think so. Mommy would love them,” he assures her.

Byeol smiles, content with the answer, before returning to her homework.

As Minho watches the two of you, he feels that familiar sense of determination. There’s nothing he loves more than taking care of his girls, but seeing one of you get sick? That part he hates. And it only makes him more resolved to do everything he can to keep you both safe and happy.

The next morning, it’s as if the fever never happened. You wake up a little later than Minho, feeling refreshed after a shower and getting dressed for work. There's a bounce in your step as you head to the kitchen, the scent of coffee drawing you in.

"How do you feel?" Minho asks as you nonchalantly steal his mug and take a sip of his coffee.

"I feel good," you reply with a smile, leaning in to press a lingering kiss on his lips before heading off to Byeol’s room.

You help your daughter get ready, brushing her hair and helping her pick out clothes. Together, you return to the dining table, where Byeol beams up at Minho, already dressed and ready for school.

"This looks delicious, daddy!" she chirps, eyeing the breakfast spread.

"Then you'll have no problem finishing it, right?" Minho teases, earning a giggle from her.

He serves you a fresh plate and pours another cup of coffee before sitting down for a quiet breakfast together. You take your first bite of scrambled eggs, but something’s off. Almost immediately, you feel your stomach turn, and you slap a hand over your mouth, quickly excusing yourself to the bathroom.

"Is mommy sick again?" Byeol asks, her voice tinged with concern.

"Daddy will check on mommy," Minho reassures her, getting up to follow you.

He finds you bent over the sink, splashing water into your mouth, trying to calm the nausea. Worry flickers across his face as he steps inside.

"Honey, are you okay?" he asks gently, handing you a towel.

You nod, still rinsing your mouth, though the nausea lingers. "I’m fine," you manage, though the look in his eyes tells you he’s not convinced.

You snort, spitting water into the sink as a small smile breaks through. He rubs soothing circles on your back, but the concern doesn’t leave his face.

"You didn’t have any trouble swallowing the other day," he jokes, his voice low and teasing.

"Maybe you should take another day off work," he suggests.

"I’m okay," you say, more to convince yourself than him.

"You sure?"

"I’m sure," you nod, smiling faintly.

Still not entirely convinced, he squeezes your shoulder. "I’ll drive you to work today."

You stay in the bathroom for a moment longer, trying to shake off the odd feeling, while Minho returns to Byeol, who’s nearly finished her breakfast. He packs her lunch, sliding it into her school bag just as you call for him from the bedroom.

"Minho…" Your voice trembles slightly, and he’s at your side in seconds, worry clouding his eyes.

"What’s going on?" he asks, noticing the strange look on your face.

You raise your hand, holding something small and unmistakable—a pregnancy test. "I’m pregnant," you announce, the words filled with joy as a slow smile spreads across your face.

This is the moment you've both been waiting for, what you’ve been hoping would happen after months of trying. You should be celebrating together, but as the realization sinks in, you notice something shift in Minho’s expression. There’s happiness there, but it’s shadowed by something else—uncertainty, perhaps—and it’s enough to make your smile falter.

You look away, turning to Byeol instead. "Mommy is having another baby," you say, keeping your tone light and cheerful.

Byeol looks as confused as Minho, though hers is an innocent curiosity. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"Mommy doesn’t know yet," you chuckle softly, kneeling beside her. "But you’re going to be a big sister."

"Who’s going to be a big sister?" Felix’s voice echoes from the doorway. You turn, spotting him leaning against the frame, his eyes bright with curiosity.

It’s a conversation you know will be public knowledge soon enough, so you smile and tell him, "Byeol is going to be a big sister."

Felix gasps, his eyes going wide. "Oh! You’re pregnant?" he asks, just to make sure he’s hearing correctly.

"Yes," you nod.

"Oh my gosh! Congratulations!" Felix exclaims, immediately pulling you into a hug. Heis genuinely thrilled, his excitement infectious, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy it. But in the back of your mind, the comparison stings—this was the reaction you had hoped for from Minho.

A deafening silence fills the car on the ride to work, an unspoken tension hanging heavy between you and Minho. After dropping off Byeol at school, neither of you speaks, and the quiet lingers, almost suffocating. It's only when the car pulls up outside your office building that you finally break it.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face him. “Minho,” you say softly, your voice carrying a weight that makes him immediately focus. He lets go of the steering wheel, giving you his full attention.

��I don’t think I’ll be able to work without us talking about it,” you admit, addressing the elephant in the room. Your fingers find his, loosely lacing them together. “You can tell me what’s really going on.”

Minho shifts, clearly aware that his earlier reaction might have come across the wrong way. He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “It’s not that I’m not happy,” he starts, his voice quiet, “I’m just… worried.”

Your brows furrow, and he continues, his eyes softening as he speaks. “You remember when you gave birth to Byeol? You went through so much pain, and… you lost a lot of blood.”

The memory seems to weigh heavily on him, and you can almost see it playing out in his mind as he talks. “Seeing you sick is enough to make me worry, but I can’t bear the thought of you going through that again.”

For a split second, he lets down his guard, allowing you to glimpse the deeper, more fragile part of him. The part that cares for you more than anything else in the world.

“Oh, honey…” you sigh, the sadness in your voice mixing with a fond smile as you lean closer. “You just love me so much, don’t you?”

Minho shrugs in that nonchalant way he does, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal. But you can see through it.

You chuckle softly, squeezing his hand tighter. “Honestly, I’m scared too,” you confess. “But I’m not when I’m with you.” You rest your head on his shoulder, breathing in deeply, letting the warmth of the moment settle between you both. “With you, I feel like I can do anything.”

You shift slightly, meeting his gaze with a smile that’s full of reassurance and love. It’s a smile that tells him you’re ready for this, that you both are.

Minho looks at you for a moment, then, unable to help himself, he jokes, "When it comes down to you or the child, just know… I’ll choose to adopt Felix."

Your eyes widen in playful disbelief, pretending to stammer, "Uh... okay?" before you both break into laughter.

He cups your face gently, his thumb brushing your cheek as he pulls you in for a kiss. It’s not just any kiss—it lingers, slow and deep, conveying all the love he has for you, the excitement that’s starting to bubble beneath the surface now that his fears are laid bare.

When the kiss ends, you whisper, “Just close your eyes, Minho and I'll tell you when the scary part is over.”

And for the first time since the news, Minho lets go of the weight on his chest. He chooses to believe in the good things, in the joy that’s coming, and almost can’t believe it—his family is getting bigger.

Four months have passed, and your baby bump has grown. Minho can't help but admire how your pencil skirt hugs your figure, accentuating the curve of your belly. It’s a constant reminder to him that you’re carrying his child, and the thought stirs something primal in him. Moreover, you’ve been carrying the pregnancy well, glowing with that unmistakable maternal aura that only makes him fall for you more. But beyond admiration, it also ignites a deeper, more physical desire in him.

The rooftop of the tattoo parlor, where the Oddinary crew often gathers, is buzzing with laughter as they celebrate Yoon’s birthday. Pizza boxes and cans of beer are scattered around, though you and Byeol stick to bottles of juice.

"This is from us," Minho says casually, handing Yoon the gift as if it's no big deal.

Yoon lights up as she accepts it. "Thank you so much!"

"Happy birthday, Yoon!" you add with a smile, comfortably sitting on Minho’s lap.

"Can I open it?" Yoon asks, her excitement barely contained.

"Go ahead!" you encourage. "We hope you like it."

Yoon eagerly tears through the wrapping, revealing a brand-new iPad. Her old one had seen better days, and she’d often complained about needing a new one for her tattoo designs now that she was taking on more clients. Her eyes widen, and she clutches it close to her chest. "Oh, thank you! I really needed this."

Felix, with Byeol on his lap, glances over with a playful pout. "You guys didn’t get me that game console when I asked it as a birthday gift," he mutters.

"That’s because you already play too many video games," you scold, slipping effortlessly into a motherly tone.

Felix turns to Minho for support. "Hyung?"

Minho grins. "I’m afraid she’s right."

Felix lets out a dramatic groan, "Not fair!"

Meanwhile, Sujin hands Yoon a necklace, adding to her growing collection as she likes to stack multiple necklaces around her neck on daily basis.

"So, where are we going out tonight?" she asks, likely already texting her husband with plans.

Minho shakes his head, his decision firm. "I’m sitting this one out tonight."

"Why?" Yoon asks, her brows knitting together.

Minho retrieves his wallet from his back pocket and hands Yoon a credit card. "You all have fun. It’s on me."

Yoon pretends to consider. "Great! I’ll use this to pay my phone bills then," she jokes, holding the card with both hands.

Sujin steps in with a playful roll of her eyes, taking the card from Yoon. "Don’t worry, I’ll keep everyone in check."

After tucking Byeol into bed, Minho joins you in the bedroom. He finds you in the bathroom, already dressed for bed, applying lotion to your arms as part of your nightly skincare routine. Without a word, he slips behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as his hands rest gently on your baby bump.

"You know, I don’t mind if you went out tonight," you say, catching his gaze in the mirror. "Or any night, really."

Minho nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling the soothing scent of your skin. "It’s okay. I have something better to do anyway," he replies, his voice low.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you lean into his touch. "And what’s that?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

His lips brush against your neck as he murmurs, "You."

For the last few months, Minho has been cautious, knowing it wasn't safe to be intimate in the early stages of your pregnancy. But tonight, the careful distance he’s kept melts away. He needs you, craves you.

Later, you lie at the edge of the bed, propped on your elbows, your eyes locked on him with the same hunger that burns in his. Minho stands, positioned between your legs, moving with slow, deliberate care. His hands are planted on either side of your waist, and he leans down, pressing soft, heated kisses on your skin.

"Honey…" you moan, your voice a breathless whisper as his lips trail over your neck.

You tilt your head, seeking his mouth, and he gives in, kissing you with an intensity that feels like a lifeline. His movements are measured, filled with restraint and passion, but you can feel him starting to lose control, both of you teetering on the edge.

"I’m so close," you whimper, your hand gripping his arm tightly.

Minho threads his fingers through yours, his voice a soft promise. "I’ll give it to you, honey," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

With one last push, the tension between you snaps, and Minho groans deeply as he releases, filling you completely. His lips find yours in a deep, breathless kiss, his body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

As you both lie together afterward, the room quiet except for the sound of your breathing, Minho pulls you close, his hand resting tenderly on your belly. He peppers your skin with soft, fluttering kisses, his heart full, his love for you overwhelming.

"I love you," he whispers, the words carrying a weight that fills the room.

You smile, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. "I love you."

And that’s how Minho ends his day—wrapped up in you, content and at peace, his heart overflowing with love for the family you’re growing together.

In the middle of the night, Minho stirs from his sleep as he feels the bed shift. His eyes blink open just in time to see you slipping out of the bedroom. A wave of sleepiness pulls him to stay put, but curiosity wins over. He pushes himself out of bed and follows you.

Quietly stepping into the kitchen, Minho catches sight of you standing by the fridge, sniffing a jar of pickles. "What are you doing?" he asks, his eyes squinted in the dim light.

Startled, you nearly drop the jar, letting out a sigh of relief when you realize it’s just him. "Minho, can you not—" you begin, a little exasperated, but the words trail off.

Minho approaches, his footsteps soft, mindful not to wake Byeol, who’s fast asleep in her room. It’s not the first time he’s found you sneaking into the kitchen for a midnight snack, and he understands it. Pregnancy cravings don’t adhere to normal schedules.

"Are you hungry?" he asks gently, placing a hand on the small of your back.

"Yeah," you reply sheepishly, setting the pickles aside.

"What do you feel like eating?" Minho opens the fridge, glancing at the contents inside.

You scratch your chin, reminding him so much of Byeol when she’s deep in thought. Then, with a grin, you suggest, "Grilled cheese?"

As Minho works in the kitchen, keeping the noise to a minimum, you curl up on the sofa, munching on some of Byeol’s leftover snacks and catching up on your favorite show. It’s comforting, the familiar routine of it all, even at this hour.

Soon enough, Minho walks over with a plate in hand. You reach out eagerly, but the sandwich is still too hot to touch, causing you to hiss in surprise. "Honey, can you—" you begin to ask, but Minho, anticipating your next request, hands you a bottle of honey before you can finish the sentence.

"Thank you," you beam, wasting no time drizzling the honey over the grilled cheese.

Minho watches with a mixture of amusement and fondness. You didn’t have any unusual cravings during your first pregnancy, but this time around, honey seems to find its way onto everything—toast, fruit, milk, even pizza. It’s strange, but as long as you’re happy and eating, he’s not about to question it.

"Good?" he asks, eyes twinkling.

You nod, unable to answer with your mouth full of food. He can’t help but smile as he watches you enjoy every bite.

"Do you want me to make you another one?" he offers as you near the end of the sandwich.

"If I keep eating like this in the middle of the night, I’m going to get so big," you grumble, pausing to add more honey to the toast.

Minho tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Why is that a bad thing?" he asks, his voice soft. "That just means there’ll be more of you for me to hold."

His words make you smile, and with a playful glint in your eyes, you shove the last piece into your mouth. "In that case, I’ll take another one."

While waiting for the second grilled cheese, you switch up your approach, tearing it into pieces and dipping them in honey. Your attention shifts between the food and the TV, but then you suddenly blurt out, "We don’t know the baby’s gender yet, but I think we should have a pet name."

Minho chuckles. "Got any ideas?"

You pause for a moment before laughing at your own suggestion, "Honeypot?"

Minho grins, playing along. "How about ‘little shit’?"

You surprise him by laughing and agreeing, "I like that. Because he’s being a greedy little shit right now," you say affectionately, your hand resting on your baby bump.

Minho watches you with a warm smile, finding it adorable how you scold your bump with such endearment. It hits him, too—this little one is his little shit as well.

"We’ll have to be careful not to say that around Byeol though," you add with a grin.

Third trimester is where things get a little rough.

Your baby bump has grown even larger, and your protruding belly button makes it nearly impossible to find a comfortable sleeping position. Swollen ankles and feet, constant trips to the bathroom every hour or two, and an aching back keep you tossing and turning through the night. Worse, your body radiates heat, and Minho, sharing the bed with you, often wakes up drenched in sweat. But no matter how uncomfortable it gets for him, he knows you’ve got it much worse.

It’s the weekend, and Minho’s first thought is to let you and Byeol rest. He starts cooking breakfast a little later than usual, hoping you’ll get some extra sleep. The smell of food wafts through the apartment, and soon, you shuffle into the kitchen, sleepily rubbing your eyes.

"Morning," you mumble, slowly making your way to him, one hand supporting your belly as you lean in for a soft morning kiss.

"Morning," he replies, still whisking the batter for French toast.

"What’s for breakfast?" you ask, wrapping your arms around him from behind and resting your chin on his shoulder.

"French toast," Minho answers, focused on the task at hand.

"Yum!" you hum, your voice filled with satisfaction as you gently let go of him to patiently wait for breakfast on the dining table.

Sitting down, you grab your phone and begin to check work emails, your mind briefly occupied. As you concentrate on typing, a sudden sneeze bursts out of you.

"Oh?!" You gasp, feeling something unexpected. Your eyes widen, and you glance toward Minho. "I think I just pissed my pants."

Minho freezes, whisk in hand, turning to you with wide eyes. "Are you serious?"

"I don’t know," you laugh, frustration mixing with amusement. "I can't see it."

Your belly is too big to check on your own, so Minho walks over, pulling your chair back to give himself a better view. He bends down and takes a look.

"Nice!" he says, chuckling as he spots the wet patch on your shorts.

You narrow your eyes at him, clearly unamused. "You're having a good laugh, huh?"

Minho’s grin widens, unable to hold back the laughter. "Want me to help you clean up then?"

"Just hurry up with breakfast! I'm hungry!" you huff, half laughing, half exasperated, giving him a light push back toward the kitchen.

He turns back to the stove, still smiling as he flips the French toast, and a few minutes later, he places the plate in front of you. You can’t help but eye the delicious breakfast with anticipation.

Minho leans down and presses a quick kiss on the top of your head. "Eat well, pisspants," he teases, smirking.

You groan but can’t help smiling as you take a bite of the French toast. Even with the little mishap, moments like these make everything easier to handle—his teasing, his care, and the love that fills your home.

Minho only has one appointment today, and once he's done, he heads up to the third floor. He finds you napping on the sofa, the TV still on in the background. The sight makes him pause, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He knows better than to wake you—you’ve been struggling to sleep at night, and the rest is much needed.

Settling down beside you, Minho glances at the TV. It’s one of those shows you love, the kind that he could never get into, but he watches it anyway because you do. After two episodes, though, he starts to get bored. He leans closer, unable to resist the urge to press soft kisses against your cheek, then your forehead, and finally the tip of your nose.

"Honey, wake up," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he playfully tugs your nose between his lips.

You stir in your sleep, letting out a groggy groan as you weakly push at his head, trying to go back to sleep.

"Wake up," Minho tries again, this time burying his face into your neck and planting a series of ticklish kisses along your skin. "I’m bored."

"Go play with your daughter," you mumble, eyes still closed, your voice heavy with sleep.

"Your parents are taking her fishing, remember?" Minho reminds you, his tone soft but teasing. "You’re stuck with me."

The words sink in slowly, and you finally crack your eyes open, squinting up at him. "What do you want to do?" you ask, half curious, half resigned to whatever he’s planning.

Minho grins, shifting on the sofa to make himself more comfortable. "We can ride a roller coaster."

You chuckle, still drowsy. "I don’t think they let pregnant women ride roller coasters."

"Okay, fine. Haunted house?"

"Also, pregnant," you remind him, closing your eyes again.

He huffs, feigning frustration as he thinks. "How about a horror movie?"

You consider for a moment before mumbling, "Sure, put one on. I’ll watch it with you."

"No," he counters, shaking his head. "We’re not watching it here."

That gets your attention. You open one eye, giving him a suspicious look. "You want to go out and watch a horror movie?"

"Yup," Minho nods enthusiastically.

You sigh, staring at the ceiling as if contemplating how you ended up married to someone this persistent. "Fine, give me a minute to get ready."

The real reason Minho wanted to take you out wasn’t just boredom. He knew things would change soon, with a second child on the way, and he couldn’t remember the last time it was just the two of you. You deserved a break, and he wanted to give it to you, even if that meant taking you to see a horror movie you’d likely sleep through.

Later, after the movie, Minho waits outside the women’s restroom with your bag slung over his shoulder. When you emerge, you’re grumbling under your breath, your face scrunched up in discomfort.

"My feet," you mutter, pausing to adjust your swollen ankles in your shoes.

Minho glances down and sees how tight the shoes have become, your feet swollen from the pregnancy. Without missing a beat, he suggests, "Let’s get you a pair of sandals, yeah?"

You nod, grateful, as he leads you to a nearby shop. Inside, he doesn’t hesitate to kneel down, taking off your shoes and replacing them with a more comfortable pair of sandals. While he’s down there, he gently rubs your ankles, soothing the swelling.

"Better?" he asks, looking up at you with a smile.

"Much better, thank you," you sigh, relief washing over you as you take his hand, helping him to his feet.

On the way out of the store, you pause to admire a cardigan on display, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric. Minho notices, stepping beside you.

"You want that one too?" he asks, already reaching for his wallet.

You hesitate for a moment before slipping it off the hanger. "Does it look good on me?"

"I think it fits you well," he simply answers.

Minho buys it without a second thought, handing it over to you with a smile. He knows you can buy it for yourself, but he enjoys spoiling you in little ways when he can. It’s his way of showing his love, in gestures that remind him how lucky he is to have you.

As you both make your way to your favorite Italian restaurant, Minho buys a flower from an elderly lady selling them on the street. He hands it to you with a soft smile, the simple gesture making you raise an eyebrow.

"Okay, you can tell me now," you say, taking the flower but eyeing him suspiciously.

"What?" he laughs, feigning innocence.

"You know I wasn’t suspicious until you gave me flowers," you tease, poking at him with your free hand. "So what’s this all about?"

Minho grins, leaning back in his chair, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh. "I just felt bad for the elderly lady," he explains with a shrug.

You narrow your eyes, skeptical. "The last time you gave me flowers, you were apologizing for lying to me."

He chuckles, taking a sip of water as if stalling.

Leaning in, you lower your voice conspiratorially. "Did you sell the building to pay for your secret gambling debt?"

"No!" Minho laughs, shaking his head at your wild guess.

"Did you kill someone and need my help to bury the body?" you continue, your tone playful but serious.

His lips twitch into a smirk. "You’d help me bury the body?"

"Depends on who you killed," you joke, tearing a piece of bread and popping it into your mouth. "Whoever it was probably deserved it."

Minho’s laughter fades into a thoughtful smile. There was, in fact, something he needed to tell you, something he’s been holding back. After a moment, he clears his throat, turning more serious.

"You remember Hyunjin?" he asks.

You tilt your head. "The beautiful, tall guy with long dark hair and a rose tattoo on his finger?"

Minho narrows his eyes, pointing at your baby bump. "Be careful, you're already cheating on me with that little shit."

You laugh and put all of your attention on him, "Go on, what about Hyunjin?"

"He invited me to do a guest spot at his parlor," Minho says in a rush, blurting out the words.

You blink at him. "You want to do it?"

He nods slowly. "Yeah. I think it’d be... fun."

You smile softly, seeing how much he wants it. "Then you should do it."

Minho hesitates, his hand tightening slightly on your thigh. "But I can’t leave you. Not when you’re…"

"Yes, you can," you cut him off gently, placing your hand over his, "And you will."

"But I’ll be away for two weeks," he protests, his voice softening with worry.

"That’s fine. I’ll be on maternity leave anyway," you remind him, tearing another piece of bread. "It works out."

Minho stares at you for a moment, his heart swelling with gratitude and love. "You’re okay with it?" he asks, still unsure why he hesitated so much in the first place.

"Look, Minho," you begin, squeezing his hand, "You’ve done so much for me, for us. I want you to be able to do your thing too."

The simplicity of your words hits him harder than he expected. He looks at you, feeling overwhelmed with how lucky he is to have you as his partner, someone who understands him without him needing to explain. You give him the freedom to be his own person while still being a devoted father and husband.

"I don’t want you to hesitate to tell me the next time you have something you want to do, okay?" You add, your voice soft yet firm.

Minho nods, the smile that spreads across his face filled with love and gratitude. He leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

The apartment feels quieter than usual with Byeol spending the weekend with your parents. Despite the peace, a slight ache of longing tugs at your chest, so you call her to hear her voice. After a sweet chat, you hand the phone to Minho so she can talk with her dad.

“We’ll pick you up tomorrow, okay?” he says softly to your daughter. He smiles at something she says, his voice tender as he adds, “Sleep well. Goodnight!” He hangs up, and you sigh, shifting for what feels like the hundredth time beside him.

“The little shit won’t stop moving,” you mutter, rubbing your belly in frustration.

Minho puts your phone away and leans against the headboard, patting the space between his legs. “Come here.”

You shuffle over, leaning your back against his chest. His arms wrap around you, and his hands instantly find your swollen belly, rubbing gentle, soothing circles over it. His touch has always been your comfort.

“I think little shit can’t sleep because of the horror movie we watched earlier,” you murmur, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

He chuckles softly, his fingers tracing patterns beneath your camisole, feeling every tiny kick and movement. “No, I think little shit is just excited.”

The sensation of his hands on you, tender yet firm, is grounding. Slowly, the tension eases from your body. You melt into his warmth, your eyelids growing heavier with each caress. Minho presses a series of soft kisses along your temple, quiet and full of affection. His hand reaches for yours and he slips his fingers in between.

Knowing that he's noticing your swollen fingers, you say, "I need to take the wedding ring off."

Without saying anything, Minho takes it off for you and slightly struggling doing it. Once he successfully takes it off, he safely places the ring on the bedside table.

“How can I leave if you’re like this, mmh?” he whispers, his lips brushing your skin.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Minho," You smile sleepily, your eyes barely open. "I’ll be okay.”

"No, I mean, leaving you and you're not wearing the wedding ring..." he says with a playful smirk.

Your laugh vibrates through him, "I don’t think people would try to flirt with pregnant woman."

"I do," he shamelessly admits.

"That’s because you're deranged," you teasingly say and look over you shoulder at him, "my deranged husband."

His arms tighten around you, and though he knows you’re right, the thought of leaving still tugs at him. But as he feels you relax completely in his embrace, he remembers that if there's one thing he learned from years of being married to you is that you're stronger than you look.

It's 3 a.m., but Minho can’t bring himself to move. He lies there, watching you sleep peacefully beside him, your belly softly rising and falling with each breath. Part of him wishes he could stay, to spend the whole day with you. After a while, he reluctantly leans in, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your cheek before carefully pulling himself away.

He slips out of bed, moving quietly around the room, trying not to disturb you. The first flight out of the city awaits, and he needs to be at the airport in less than an hour. Minho takes his suitcase downstairs, leaving it by the door before heading back upstairs for a proper goodbye.

He steps into Byeol’s room, pausing at the edge of her bed, watching her little form snuggled under the blankets. She looks so peaceful, and it tugs at his heart.

“Daddy will be back,” he whispers, brushing a few stray hairs off her forehead. Leaning down, he places a soft kiss there. “Love you, my little star.”

He makes a quiet exit from her room but freezes when he sees you standing in the doorway of your bedroom, your hands resting gently on your growing bump, a sleepy but warm smile on your face.

“You think you can get rid of me that easily, huh?” you tease, your voice low and playful.

Minho grins, walking over to meet you, and together, you head downstairs just as the taxi pulls up outside. The driver steps out to help with the luggage as Minho turns back to you, double-checking everything.

“Got your wallet? Flight tickets?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Got them,” he confirms, patting his jacket pocket.

“Are you sure you’re not forgetting anything?” You ask again.

There’s a sly smile on your lips, and Minho hesitates, trying to remember. You squint, holding up his phone that you’d swiped without him noticing. He smiles, taking it from you and tapping on the screen, only to see that you’ve changed his lock screen to a photo of you and Byeol.

“So you remember you’ve got a wife and a daughter waiting for you at home,” you say with a playful smirk.

Minho laughs, but when he unlocks the phone, he finds another surprise—a rather provocative picture of you, posing in a way that makes him flashing you a mischievous grin.

“Just a friendly reminder of what you’ll be losing if you even think about flirting with anyone,” you warn him, your tone teasing but with an edge of seriousness.

Minho tucks his phone away, stepping close to you, though your belly stops him from getting as close as he’d like. He places a hand tenderly on your bump, rubbing it in slow circles. “Keep this little shit inside until I get back, okay?”

You chuckle, your hand covering his. “I’ll try.”

His other hand cups your face, pulling you into a deep, lingering kiss. There’s something tender, something a little desperate about the way he holds you, as if this moment is too precious to let go.

“I love you,” he whispers between kisses, his voice low and full of feeling.

“I love you,” you murmur back, your smile soft against his lips, your forehead resting against his.

With a final kiss, Minho lets go, though his hand remains intertwined with yours. He traces his thumb across your cheek, as if memorizing your features one last time.

“Take care, and be back safely,” you say, your smile bittersweet.

He nods, but his legs feel heavy. This is the first time he’s leaving his family, and it’s harder than he anticipated. His body doesn’t want to move, like it’s rooted to the spot, not ready to let go.

“And don’t forget to enjoy yourself too, mmh?” you add with a warm smile.

Minho swallows the knot in his throat, forcing a smile. “I will.”

Finally, he turns toward the taxi, walking slowly as if each step pulls him further from you. He doesn’t look back—not yet—because he knows he’ll run straight back into your arms. Only when the taxi starts driving away does he glance back, watching you wave until he disappears down the street.

The red traffic light seems to stretch endlessly, making every minute feel like an hour. You glance over at the passenger seat, where the carefully packed dinner is growing colder by the second. As soon as the light turns green, you press down on the gas, navigating through the streets at the maximum speed allowed. There’s no time to waste, but you remind yourself that it’s better to make it home in one piece.

With a deep breath, you haul everything out of the car and begin your slow ascent up the stairs. Each step is a challenge with your swollen baby bump, and by the time you reach the third floor, you’re panting.

"Felix, I’m so sorry," you blurt out the moment you open the door to the apartment, "The traffic was horrible..." You trail off as you hurriedly place the bags on the dining table, relieved to finally be home.

The balance between work, pregnancy, and taking care of Byeol has become a juggling act without Minho around, and everyone in the parlor has been taking turns in helping you doing one of them.

As you catch your breath and turn towards the living room, you can’t help but chuckle at the sight before you. Byeol is perched on the couch, happily tying Felix’s long bleached hair into tiny ponytails, adding hairpins and colorful stickers to his face.

"It’s okay, we’re having fun," Felix says, staying as still as possible so Byeol can work on his hair. "Right, rockstar?"

"Mm-mmh," Byeol hums in agreement, her focus entirely on securing a final hairpin in place.

You laugh softly, “You two look like you’re having a blast.”

Once she finishes with Felix’s hair, Byeol runs over to you and hugs your waist, her small arms barely reaching around your bump. "Mommy’s home!" she giggles.

You smile down at her, stroking her hair gently. "Let’s have dinner first, alright? You must be hungry."

Her eyes light up as she eagerly asks, "What’s for dinner?"

"It’s your favorite—soup dumplings," you announce, watching her face brighten. "Go wash your hands first!"

Byeol scampers off to the sink as you turn back to Felix, who’s gently pulling the last hairpins out of his hair.

"Are you staying for dinner?" you ask while unpacking the food.

Felix shakes his head, running a hand through his now free-flowing hair. "I’ve actually got dinner plans with a friend, so I’ll head out."

"Sorry for keeping you," you say apologetically, glancing at the mess of stickers still plastered across his face. You step closer, helping him peel the last of them off.

Felix chuckles, grabbing his jacket. "It’s no problem, really."

"Byeol, say goodbye to Uncle Felix," you call as she finishes washing her hands.

"Thank you for playing with me, Uncle Felix," she says sweetly, running over to give him a hug.

"You’re very welcome, rockstar," Felix replies, hugging her back before standing up to give you a hug as well.

After he leaves, you feel the weight of the past week without Minho settle in. It’s been tough managing everything, but tomorrow marks the start of your maternity leave, and the relief is almost palpable.

"Have you done your homework?" you ask, wiping some leftover sauce from Byeol’s mouth as she finishes her dinner.

"Mommy, I don’t have school tomorrow," she giggles.

"Oh, right! Mommy forgot," you chuckle, realizing it’s school break. "Do you want to do something fun tomorrow?"

Byeol’s eyes widen with excitement. "Mommy’s not working?"

"Nope, no work!" you confirm with a smile.

Her face lights up even more. "I want to go to the aquarium!"

You pause, recalling that she’s already been there recently, but you quickly realize she’s asking for something more—time with you. With another baby on the way, your one-on-one moments with Byeol have been scarce.

"You know what? Tomorrow, we’ll go to the aquarium, and we’ll do whatever else you want. How does that sound?"

"Really, mommy?" she asks, her voice full of wonder.

"Really," you reply, smiling as you brush a hand over her hair.

The next morning, Byeol wakes up buzzing with excitement. She puts on her best clothes and even helps you pack a few things for the day. When you arrive at the parlor downstairs, Byeol is bursting with anticipation.

"Where are you going, superstar?" Sujin asks, opening her arms for a hug.

"I’m going to the aquarium with Mommy!" she declares proudly.

Sujin playfully pouts, "Can Auntie Sujin come too?"

"No," Byeol shakes her head, giggling as Sujin pretends to be offended.

Felix joins in, "What about me? Can I come?"

"No," Byeol repeats, still giggling. "It’s just me and Mommy!"

With everything packed and Byeol bubbling with excitement, you wave goodbye to the parlor crew and head out for a day that’s all about your little girl.

At the aquarium, Byeol is in awe of everything, dragging you from tank to tank, her tiny hand gripping yours as she points excitedly at the sea creatures. "Mommy, look!" she exclaims every few minutes, her eyes wide with wonder.

After hours of exploring, you stop for a quick lunch, letting Byeol take charge of ordering for both of you. She confidently hands over your credit card at the window, beaming with pride.

"So, what do you want to do next?" you ask between bites of fries.

She thinks for a moment before asking, "What about you, Mommy? What do you want to do?"

Caught off guard by her question, you blink a few times, then chuckle. "How about we get our nails done? Or we can watch a movie, or go shopping. What do you think?"

"I want to paint my nails too!" Byeol says, her enthusiasm never faltering.

You smile at the thought. "Alright, why don’t you pick the color, and we’ll have matching nails?"

No one knows your daughter best than you, she likes playing soccer instead of with her dolls, she always prefers to look scary for Halloween instead of dressed as princesses and recently, she mentioned that she wants to take a taekwondo class, you always thought she leans toward such things but you realize that there's so many sides of her that you just haven't discovered yet. A person can be so many things, there's no limit to what they like or what they interest in, for all you know, Byeol can be anything she wants.

Byeol takes the task seriously, carefully scanning the color options before choosing a vibrant purple. The two of you sit side by side at the salon, giggling as your nails are painted, Byeol opting for colorful flower designs on hers.

By the time dinner rolls around, you’re both exhausted but happy. As you head back home, Byeol suddenly dashes toward the elevator.

"Please hold the door! My mommy is pregnant, and she can’t walk fast!" she calls out to the person inside.

The lady smiles kindly and holds the door open. "What a thoughtful little girl you have," she says, patting Byeol’s head as you finally catch up.

"I’m lucky," you reply, pulling Byeol close as the two of you step inside.

As you reflect on the day, you can’t help but feel immense pride in your daughter. She’s growing up so fast, learning and becoming her own person in ways you hadn’t even noticed. You smile to yourself, knowing that no matter what, Byeol is already shaping up to be someone wonderful—someone strong, caring, and unafraid to try new things.

As you enter Byeol’s room, the weight of the day settles in, the ache in your feet reminding you of just how much you walked. Still, your little one inside won’t let you rest, kicking incessantly since you got home.

"Ready for bed, starshine?" you ask, watching Byeol eagerly climb under her covers.

"Yes, mommy," she replies, pulling the blanket up to her chin.

You wince slightly as you sit down beside her, gently tucking her in, and she notices immediately.

"Are you okay, mommy?" she asks, her voice full of concern.

"Mommy’s okay," you assure her with a smile. "The baby just keeps kicking."

Byeol, curious and excited, places her small hand on your belly, waiting. Her eyes widen when she feels a kick, and she grins up at you.

"So, did you have fun today?" you ask, softly brushing her hair back.

"I had so much fun!" she says, cuddling into your chest, her voice brimming with joy.

"We can do it again tomorrow," you say, leaning down to kiss her head.

"Mommy’s not working tomorrow?" she asks, her wide eyes hopeful.

"No, mommy is on maternity leave," you explain.

"What’s that?" she questions, her confusion evident.

"It means mommy doesn’t have to work until this baby pops out," you explain simply.

She brightly smiles when she hears it. She throws her arms around you and hugs you tightly as she says, "I love you, mommy."

Your heart shakes from hearing the earnestness in her words, you feel tears forming on the corner of your eyes. You blink them away and put on a smile as you say back, "And mommy loves you too."

You pull the blanket to cover her body and softly pat her head, "You must be tired. Let's get to sleep, yeah?"

She nods as drowsiness starts taking over her, "Goodnight, mommy."

"Goodnight, my shining star," you murmur with a lingering kiss on her forehead.

In your bedroom, you take a moment to sit on the bed and just process everything until you get overwhelmed by the emotions of the day. Tears prick at your eyes, but they’re a mix of joy, exhaustion, and love. Just as you start to wipe them away, the phone rings, and Minho’s name flashes on the screen. You quickly take a deep breath, not wanting to let him hear your tears, and answer the call.

"Hi, honey," you greet him with forced cheer.

"Hey, pisspants," he teases, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"How are you?" you ask, smiling despite yourself.

"I’m surprisingly fine without you," he jokes, and you roll your eyes, "Byeol?"

"All tucked in, not a chance of escape," you say with a playful chuckle.

"And the little shit?" he asks, referring to the baby.

"Practicing kickboxing in here," you say, rubbing your belly as the baby kicks again as if on cue.

"How was your day?" you ask, settling deeper into the bed, "No, wait, unless you tattooed someone’s buttock, I don’t want to hear it," you add with a laugh.

"Sadly, no," Minho replies with a grin in his voice.

"Then ask about my day," you demand, feeling a little more playful.

"Okay, how was your day?" he caves, amused.

You launch into the story of your day, telling him every detail from the morning to the aquarium trip, to Byeol ordering food at the drive-thru, and you can hear his smile through the phone as he listens. He interjects every now and then, keeping up the light banter, and for a moment, it feels like he’s right there with you.

"That sounds fun. I’m jealous," he says when you finish.

"It was," you sigh happily.

It’s moments like these, his teasing, his calm presence, that you miss the most. Your chest tightens with the ache of missing him.

"I miss you," you admit quietly, the tears from earlier creeping back up your throat.

"I miss you too, honey," he says softly, and you can feel the sincerity in his voice.

Even though he’s miles away, in that moment, you feel connected to him, the distance fading as you share the quiet agony of longing for each other.

The moment Minho steps off the plane, the cool airport air hits him, a welcome contrast to the hours spent in the stale cabin. He rolls his stiff shoulders, grateful to be on solid ground. He pulls out his phone, ready to text you, expecting to wait for a ride.

But as he walks toward baggage claim, he stops in his tracks, his eyes widening. There, standing just past the barrier, are you and Byeol.

His heart stutters, caught between surprise and overwhelming joy. He wasn’t expecting you to come all this way, especially with your swollen belly and how much you’ve been juggling at home. But here you are, and you’ve brought Byeol, her small face lighting up the second she sees him.

"Daddy!" Byeol yells, her voice cutting through the hum of the crowd as she breaks into a run toward him.

Minho barely has time to drop his carry-on before she’s in his arms, her little body crashing into his with all the force her excitement can muster. He lifts her easily, despite the weariness from the long flight, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

"Hi, honey," he murmurs, pressing his lips to her head, his heart swelling in his chest.

Then, his eyes lift to meet yours. You're standing there, smiling softly at him, looking beautiful and tired all at once, your hand resting on your rounded belly. The sight of you—the woman he loves, the mother of his child, the one carrying their second—hits him harder than he thought it would. Something about seeing his family, all here, waiting for him, fills his heart to the brim. His throat tightens, and before he can stop it, he feels the burn of tears behind his eyes.

"You came to pick me up?" His voice cracks, and he immediately feels a bit ridiculous, blinking away the moisture threatening to spill over.

You nod, your smile warm and knowing as you step closer. "We couldn’t wait to see you," you say softly, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek.

He closes his eyes at your touch, leaning into it, savoring the warmth of your skin against his. Byeol wriggles in his arms, pulling back to look at him with a beaming smile.

"We missed you, Daddy," she says, her bright eyes reflecting her joy.

"I missed you too, shining star," Minho says, his voice thick with emotion.

You step into his other side, wrapping your arms around both of them, and he feels it—the peace, the love, the sense of home that he’s been missing. His arms tighten around you both, holding onto the moment, grounding himself in the comfort of your presence.

It’s not just relief from the long trip or the exhaustion of work; it’s the realization of how much his heart aches when he’s away from you two. Being here, now, with his family, everything else fades.

"I’m home," he whispers, his voice barely audible above the hum of the airport.

"And we’re so glad you are," you reply, your lips brushing against his cheek as you pull him into a deeper embrace.

For a moment, he lets himself feel it all—the happiness, the gratitude, the love. His family, his home, right here in his arms.

Minho is finally home.

Everything feels familiar, but there’s an undeniable shift in the air. His eyes sweep across the apartment, noticing the small yet significant changes—there’s a crib in the corner of the bedroom now, baby clothes draped over the armchair, bottles, and toys beginning to clutter spaces that once held nothing but the quiet simplicity of your shared life. A reminder that soon, his family will grow by one more.

He makes his way into the bathroom where you're standing at the sink, gently rubbing cream on your face. He watches you through the mirror for a moment, taking in how radiant you look, despite the exhaustion he knows you've been feeling. You catch his gaze and smile softly.

"Getting bigger," Minho comments, his eyes tracing your reflection as he walks up behind you.

At first, you assume he's talking about your growing belly, especially with how close you are to your due date. But when his hands slide around your front, you burst into laughter as they make their way up to cup your breasts.

"Just how you like them, huh?" you tease, glancing at him in the mirror with a grin.

He smirks, placing a sweet kiss on your neck. "Always," he murmurs against your skin. But then, with a softer smile, his hands move down to your belly, cradling it from underneath, lifting it gently as though taking some of the weight off you.

You let out a small, relieved moan, closing your eyes as you lean back into him. "Why can't you do this for me every day?" you joke, though the gratitude in your voice is clear.

It’s been months of carrying this weight, of swollen feet and sleepless nights. And yet, somehow, in these small moments with him, it all feels worth it.

Minho presses his lips to your shoulder, lingering in the warmth of your skin. "I missed you," he whispers, but it’s not just missing you physically. There’s a depth to his words, like he’s been holding his breath, and now that he’s back, he can finally exhale.

His lips trail down to the crook of your neck, and before long, you find yourself in the bedroom, lying on your back, your head resting on the pillow as he hovers above you. His movements are gentle, careful, as he enters you. Not too deep, just enough to feel you, to remind himself of what it’s like to be with you this way.

You laugh softly, a contented sound that fills the room. "I can’t see it, but it feels so good," you say, your hands tracing the lines of his tattoos, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers.

Minho smiles, his heart swelling at your touch, your voice. He moves slowly, cautiously, not wanting to push too far, not wanting to hurt you or the baby. His hands brace beside you, propped against the mattress, keeping himself steady.

Your hands find his face, pulling him down to kiss you, and he’s lost in the sensation of your lips against his, the sound of your quiet moans urging him on. He missed this — missed the intimacy, the connection, the feeling of being one with you.

"Honey," he breathes, his voice thick with longing. He presses his lips to your neck, your chest, savoring every inch of you.

You moan his name softly, your eyes half-lidded as you look up at him, and that’s all it takes for Minho to reach his release, his body tensing as he comes, his seed spilling inside you. He pulls out just a second too late, but he doesn’t care. In this moment, all that matters is you, the life you’ve built together, and the one growing between you.

His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leans down to kiss you deeply. When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, your eyes locked on his. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze that surprises you, and it hits you just how much this moment means to him.

The weight of his emotions threatens to overwhelm him, but Minho lets it all out, lets himself feel it all as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice low and raw.

"I love you too," you reply, your voice filled with all the love you’ve carried for him through the years, through the ups and downs, the changes and the constants.

Tears slip down your cheeks as you kiss him again, both of you lost in the tenderness of the moment, the unspoken promise that no matter what, you’ll always have each other.

Minho doesn't have much to do around the house as you’ve already tackled most of the chores. He knows you like to keep yourself busy, but watching you move around, especially with the baby almost here, makes him a little anxious. Seeing you now, carrying a full laundry basket down the stairs, only increases his concern.

“Slow down, or you’re going to piss your pants again,” Minho teases, leaning against the doorframe.

You chuckle, setting the basket down on the carpet. “I’m doing alright, honey,” you assure him, lowering yourself onto the sofa with a small sigh.

Before you can start folding the laundry, Minho steps in and grabs the basket from you. “Nope. Not today,” he says, replacing the basket with a plate of sliced fruits. “Take a break. You can do the laundry later.”

You sigh in defeat but take the plate from him, nibbling on a piece of apple dipped in peanut butter. While you sit back and relax, Minho quickly handles the laundry, but when he returns, he catches you making another attempt to escape.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t want to piss my pants again,” you shout with a laugh, already halfway to the bathroom.

Minho shakes his head with a grin and waits in the living room until you come back. But when you return, your expression isn’t playful anymore—it’s tense, and there’s a weird look on your face.

"You didn’t make it to the bathroom right on time?" Minho jokes, trying to keep things light.

You sit slowly on the sofa and lean back, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I’m not sure… but I think… I just lost the mucus plug,” you say, biting your lip.

Minho feels the tension in his chest as your words sink in. Though he stays calm, he knows what this means. It’s one of the first signs that labor is near, and while he doesn’t want to alarm you, he’s on high alert now.

He moves closer, his hand gently resting on your belly. "Are you okay? Do you feel any pain?"

"My back is always in pain,” you answer with a sigh, “but I’m good for now."

"Should we get ready to go to the hospital?" Minho asks, his hand moving to rub your lower back in soothing circles.

“It could be a false alarm,” you say with a faint smile, “but just in case, yes.”

Minho nods, appreciating how calm you’re trying to stay. Luckily, thanks to your meticulous planning, the hospital bags were packed weeks ago. All he has to do is grab them from the closet and put them in the car.

"Do you want to go now?" he asks as he notices that you've been getting contractions.

You nod but don’t say anything, your expression showing you’re trying to breathe through the pain.

The drive to the hospital feels like an eternity, even though Minho is breaking every speed limit. He glances over at you, your hand resting protectively over your belly, your breathing uneven as you try to power through the contractions. He reaches out and takes your hand, squeezing it gently.

“We’re almost there,” he reassures you, his voice is calm but tight with worry.

Minutes later, you’re arrived at the hospital. Nurses are already waiting with a wheelchair, and Minho quickly helps you into it. His worry is more apparent on his face now.

"It’s going to be okay," you tell him as you squeeze his hand.

"I know," he says, flashing you a faint yet genuine smile.

Your journey through labor has begun, and Minho is right by your side, ready for whatever comes next.

After labor, you drift in and out of consciousness for what feels like hours. It isn’t until the nurse enters your room to check on you that you start to come around, your senses slowly gathering themselves.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” the nurse apologizes softly, noticing your eyes flutter open.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” you say with a weak but warm smile. Your body feels heavy, but there’s a lightness in your heart knowing what’s coming next.

Shortly after, they bring you a meal to help you regain some strength. Hospital food is always hit or miss—sometimes it’s surprisingly good, other times it’s bland. But today, the pudding is exactly what you need, a small but satisfying comfort.

Minho had to leave to handle a few things at home and will return soon with Byeol. For now, you’re alone, savoring the quiet until the nurse returns, this time pushing the bassinet small into the room. Your heart skips, and a soft smile pulls at your lips, knowing you’re about to meet your baby again.

When you first met your little one in the operating room, it had all been a blur—tears, sweat, and a whirlwind of pain. You hadn’t been able to focus through the intensity of it all. But now, as the nurse gently settles the bassinet beside your bed, the moment feels much more real.

“You might want to start with breastfeeding initiation,” the nurse suggests kindly, helping you get comfortable before carefully placing the baby in your arms.

“Thank you,” you mutter, your voice soft, eyes fixed on the tiny bundle in your arms. His little face is peaceful, his cheeks flushed and warm. As soon as the nurse leaves, it truly hits you: he’s yours. This little boy was inside of you just hours ago, and now, he’s here, cradled against your chest.

“So it’s you, huh?” you murmur in awe, brushing your finger along his tiny hand. “The one who’s been kickboxing inside mommy’s tummy?”

His tiny forehead crinkles, and your heart swells as a tear slips down your cheek. He’s so beautiful. Fragile, yet so full of life. You can’t stop smiling through the tears, utterly captivated by him. Then, he lets out a soft cry, his little face scrunching up. You remember what the nurse said about breastfeeding and shift him into position, unsure if you’re even producing milk yet.

It takes a moment, but he begins to nurse, and the world seems to still around you. You forgot how intimate this moment feels—how sacred it is to have your baby so close, sharing this connection. As he feeds, the overwhelming emotions settle deeper into your chest, filling you with love, gratitude, and an inexplicable sense of completeness.

Not long after, the quiet of the room is broken by a familiar voice.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Byeol calls, her excitement spilling into the room as she bursts through the door.

You glance up and see her little feet moving quickly toward you. “Oh, honey, you’re finally here!” you exclaim, a broad smile breaking across your face. “Mommy missed you.”

“I missed you too, Mommy!” Byeol beams up at you before holding up something in her hands—a small, stuffed bunny.

“What’s that?” you ask curiously, your heart swelling as Minho steps into the room behind her, his eyes locking onto yours. He’s holding your hand before you know it, the unspoken emotions passing between you as you both look down at the baby in your arms.

“This is for the baby!” Byeol announces proudly, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

“That’s so nice of you, honey,” you say, feeling tears prick your eyes again, this time from the tenderness of the moment. “Come sit next to Mommy.”

You shift over on the bed to make room for Byeol, and Minho helps her climb up. Once she’s seated beside you, her gaze locks onto her baby brother, her little hands twitching, eager but hesitant to touch him.

“He’s so tiny, Mommy,” she giggles, eyes wide with wonder.

“Do you want to hold him?” you ask softly.

Byeol glances at Minho as if seeking permission, then nods at you, her smile growing. Together, you and Minho help her hold the baby carefully, cradling his weight between her small arms and your supportive hands.

“Meet your little brother, Haneul,” you whisper, introducing the two of them for the very first time.

Byeol’s eyes light up as she gazes down at him, the gentle awe never leaving her face. After a moment, she bravely reaches out and pokes his chubby cheek. “He’s so squishy!” she declares, making you laugh softly.

“You can kiss him if you want,” you encourage.

Without hesitation, Byeol leans forward and plants a sweet kiss on Haneul’s cheek, giggling as she pulls back. “He’s so cute, Mommy,” she whispers, resting her head close to him, her protective little arms still cradling him carefully.

Your heart feels like it might burst at the sight of them together—your children. You squeeze Minho’s hand, overcome by the love you feel for your family. As you turn to look at him, tears glisten in your eyes, but they’re happy tears—grateful, joyful tears.

Minho smiles softly, a quiet understanding in his eyes. He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your head, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

In this moment, everything feels perfect. Your family has grown, and with this new little life, your world feels more whole than ever before.

For the rest of the day, both your families come to visit you at the hospital, offering congratulations and warmth to the new addition to your family. As the evening settles in, the Oddinary arrive, right after the tattoo parlor has closed for the day. Their familiar presence fills the room, bringing laughter, chatter, and of course, food. They even bring pizzas to celebrate the occasion.

As Sujin gently holds little Haneul in her arms, she studies him with an appraising look while Felix peers over her shoulder in awe.

“Babies are ugly, but this one…” Sujin starts, narrowing her eyes playfully as she shifts Haneul in her arms, “…this one is beautiful. Props to you, girl!” She flashes you a proud, almost approving smile.

“Thank you,” you manage to respond, cheeks flushed as you take another bite of pizza, appreciating the warmth of her compliment.

Minho, feeling somewhat left out, leans back in his chair and shoots Sujin a mock offended look. “No props to me?”

Sujin doesn’t miss a beat, throwing him a teasing glare. “She’s the one who carried him for nine months.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Which is kind of unfair,” you add. “I carried him for nine months, and he came out looking just like his dad.”

Minho had never been overly concerned with whether the baby was a boy or girl—he’d love them no matter what. But when he saw Haneul for the first time, he was struck by just how much the baby resembled him. It had been a delightful surprise, one he hadn’t expected but welcomed wholeheartedly.

Felix, ever curious, rubs a tattooed finger gently over Haneul’s cheek, marveling at how soft the baby’s skin is. But Haneul’s reaction is immediate—his tiny face scrunches up, and he starts to cry.

Felix’s eyes go wide in surprise, his hands freezing in place. “Why did you touch the baby with your greasy hands?” Sujin hisses at him, swatting at his arm.

“I— I didn’t mean to!” Felix stammers, holding up his hands in surrender, his face a mix of guilt and panic.

“It’s okay,” you laugh, waving off the commotion. “It’s about time I feed him anyway.” You finish your slice of pizza quickly and hold out your arms, signaling for Sujin to hand Haneul back to you.

Sujin carefully places the still-crying baby in your arms, and as you begin to unbutton the front of your shirt, everyone else takes it as their cue to leave the room.

“We’ll give you some privacy,” Sujin announces with a smirk before gathering the rest of the Oddinary. Felix, still looking slightly guilty, waves awkwardly as he trails behind the others.

Once Minho sent everyone off on their way, he takes a minute to call his parents to check on Byeol. She’ll be staying with them until you’re discharged from the hospital. When he returns, he’s greeted by the sight of you cradling Haneul in your arms, a soft, loving expression on your face. In this moment, with the room bathed in the gentle glow of the hospital lights, you look absolutely radiant to him. He’s struck by how serene and beautiful you seem, completely immersed in your maternal role.

Without a word, Minho moves to tidy up the room, throwing away the empty pizza boxes and soda cans before washing his hands. Then, he comes to sit beside you on the bed, leaning in to get a closer look at your son.

“He’s so beautiful,” you whisper, your eyes glancing up at Minho with a smile.

“He has your eyes, your lips…” you murmur as you gently caress Haneul’s cheek with your knuckle. You pause, then give his tiny nose a playful boop. “Even your nose.”

A wide smile spreads across your face as you bring Haneul a little closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “I think I’ve fallen in love…” you admit, your voice filled with quiet wonder.

Minho watches you closely, recognizing that you’ve been wearing that same smile ever since you first laid eyes on Haneul. He knows he feels the same, though he’s always been better at concealing his emotions. Still, he can’t hide the warmth that spreads through his chest as he watches you with your son.

Just then, Haneul begins to coo softly, his tiny hand rubbing at his face, his features scrunching up again as if he’s about to cry.

“You want Daddy, mmh?” you guess softly, glancing up at Minho before carefully handing Haneul over to him.

Minho quickly sits beside you, taking Haneul into his tattooed arms. It’s only the second time he’s held his son today, the first being the moment of skin-to-skin contact just after Haneul was born. As Minho holds him now, he’s struck again by how small and delicate the baby feels in his arms.

You wrap your arm around Minho’s waist, resting your chin gently on his shoulder. Together, you both gaze down at Haneul, your hearts overflowing with love and gratitude for this little life you’ve brought into the world.

You press a soft kiss to Minho’s neck and murmur, “We made that.”

Minho turns his head to look at you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “We made it,” he echoes softly.

As Minho holds Haneul close, a sense of responsibility settles over him. The weight of being a father to two now, of being a husband and the head of a growing family—it all becomes real in this quiet moment. He knows that he must strive to be the best father, the best husband, the best version of himself for you, for Byeol, and now for Haneul. And as he looks back at you, the love he feels for you both is unmistakable, filling him with an unshakable sense of purpose.

It's another day in Minho’s life, except that his routine has shifted just a bit, revolving around the new addition to the family. For Minho to keep up with the tattoo parlor during the day, you insisted on taking care of baby Haneul during the night, allowing him the rest he needs. Yet, Minho can’t help but sacrifice some of his sleep to wake up earlier than usual, cherishing these moments with his newborn son.

As always, he begins his morning by cuddling up to you. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek before slowly slipping out of bed. His first stop is Haneul’s crib, where the baby sleeps soundly, his tiny mouth making faint sucking motions as if he’s dreaming of breastfeeding. Minho smiles at the sight—how peaceful, how precious.

After washing up, Minho moves to prepare a bath for Haneul. His hands, trained from years of precise work as a tattoo artist, move skillfully as he fills the tub. His calm and steady touch proves invaluable during moments like this. Even when Haneul wakes up, startled and crying from the disturbance, Minho remains calm.

"It’ll be done soon," Minho murmurs softly, his voice soothing as he bathes his son.

Once Haneul is clean and dressed, Minho already has a bottle of breastmilk prepared to settle him back down. He cradles him gently in his arms, swaying and lulling him back to sleep as he feeds, planting a gentle kiss on his son’s cheek. Soon enough, Haneul’s little eyes flutter closed again, and Minho carefully places him back into the crib, brushing a hand over his soft hair before moving on with his morning routine.

Minho heads to the kitchen, starting with a cup of coffee to fuel the rest of his tasks. He waters the plants, then begins cooking breakfast. His steady rhythm in the kitchen feels like second nature now—cooking for the family has become one of his favorite parts of the day. He doesn’t forget to prepare Byeol’s lunch either, tucking in a little note with a doodle like he always does.

Just as he’s finishing up, you emerge from the bedroom, looking sleepy but determined to join him for breakfast.

"You stopped asking what's for breakfast," Minho remarks with a smile as he plates the food, setting it on the table for you.

"At this point, I’ll just eat whatever you give me," you reply, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips.

Minho chuckles, leaning down to place a kiss on your temple. It’s these little moments, the small exchanges that feel so intimate and warm, that fill him with a sense of contentment.

Soon, Byeol comes bounding into the dining room, full of energy and eager to tell you both about her excitement for school. As she slides into her chair, she chatters on about her favorite subject and what she can’t wait to learn today. Minho listens, glancing over at you with a small smile, feeling like these moments of normalcy are truly where life happens.

When it’s time to leave for school, Byeol rushes over to give you a big hug and kiss before heading to Haneul’s crib to say her goodbyes to her little brother. Minho watches the scene with pride swelling in his chest. He’s always been amazed by how naturally Byeol has taken to being a big sister.

Minho doesn’t leave without his own goodbye. He pulls you close, pressing a quick but loving kiss to your lips.

“See you soon,” he murmurs softly, his forehead brushing against yours for a moment before he stands, guiding Byeol towards the door.

"Bye, bye, Mommy!" Byeol chirps, waving as Minho holds the door open for her.

"Have a great day at school, my shining star!" you call back, waving with a smile that’s tired but full of love.

As Minho buckles Byeol into the car and starts the drive to school, he finds himself reflecting on how different his life is now. It’s not the grand gestures or the monumental events that have shaped him, but rather the small, quiet moments like this—breakfast with his family, goodbyes before school, the peaceful early morning routine with his son.

These little slices of heaven, day after day, are what fill his heart with gratitude. And in these moments, he knows there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Motherhood is exhausting.

It’s not just the lack of sleep or the endless list of physical discomforts. There’s the emotional rollercoaster no one warns you about—the way joy and sadness seem to come in waves, sometimes crashing over you when you least expect it. After Haneul was born, you were overwhelmed by the strangeness of no longer carrying him in your belly, missing the sensation of him kicking even as you held him in your arms. It’s a bittersweet adjustment.

But Minho makes it easier. He’s always there, making sure you never feel alone. He doesn't hover, but his presence is steady, and the little gestures of love—his way of checking in on you, or simply wrapping you up in his arms—give you a sense of comfort. Today is no different.

As you change your clothes, Minho catches you in the act, watching from the edge of the bed. You’re in the middle of swapping out a blouse, frustrated as your breast milk has leaked through again.

"You look good today," Minho says casually, a sly grin forming on his lips as he admires you.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I smell like a mix of sweat, barf, and diaper disasters.”

His smirk is playful. “Exactly my type.”

You finish buttoning your blouse and turn to face him. Despite everything your body’s been through—stretch marks, swollen feet, exhaustion—he looks at you like he always has, with a mixture of admiration and affection that never wavers. It’s comforting.

"Come here," he beckons, arms outstretched in invitation.

You don’t need to be told twice. You move into his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he pulls you close. His lips find yours, a slow, affectionate kiss that lingers, melting away the day’s fatigue.

"I guess you also smell like desperation," Minho teases as he places a kiss on your neck, his voice a low murmur against your skin.

You gently slap his chest in protest, half-heartedly. "You’re so annoying."

He only smirks and kisses you again, this time more softly. It’s moments like these that remind you why he’s your partner through all of this—his humor, his warmth, his ability to make you feel like yourself even when motherhood makes you feel anything but.

"How about I make lunch?" he asks, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "What do you feel like?"

"Hmm... I’m starving," you sigh dramatically, leaning your head against his chest. "A big sandwich would be perfect."

"Big sandwich, got it," he replies with ease.

"And make sure you add lots of love." You laugh softly, trying to lighten the mood.

"Then it’s going to taste sour," he jokes, his hands sliding down to your waist.

You laugh, enjoying the easy banter. "I don’t mind that at all."

Minho kisses your cheek and makes a move to get up, but you tighten your arms around him, not ready to let him go just yet.

"No, stay," you whine, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. "Let’s stay like this for a bit longer."

He chuckles softly and gives in, holding you closer. His tattooed arms wrap securely around you, the warmth of his body grounding you as the two of you sit quietly in the calm of the moment.

It’s surprising how often your baby boy needs to be fed throughout the day. As Haneul stirs in the other room, his soft cries reach your ears, and you let out a tired sigh.

“Alright, alright, give mommy a second,” you murmur, hurriedly unbuttoning your shirt. “You’re just as impatient as your daddy, huh?”

Minho enters the room again, Byeol trailing close behind him. She immediately clambers onto the bed, settling next to you and watching her baby brother feed.

"Honey, do you mind if I go out for a bit?" Minho asks, grabbing his wallet from the bedside table.

"Where to?" you ask, opening your arm for Byeol to snuggle into.

"Need to grab something from the convenience store," he answers, pulling on his jacket.

"Okay," you say, a bit distracted by Haneul feeding.

"I won't be long," he assures you, walking over to plant a kiss on the top of your head and giving Byeol a quick tickle, which sends her into giggles.

Once Minho leaves, Byeol settles beside you, gently playing with Haneul’s tiny fingers.

“Mommy, the baby’s here now,” she says thoughtfully, her small fingers brushing over Haneul’s tiny hands. “Does that mean you’ll go back to work soon?”

“Well, yes,” you answer carefully, “but not too soon.”

She looks up at you with wide, curious eyes. “Can mommy stay home every day?”

Her innocent question tugs at your heart. You hadn’t realized how much she missed these moments with just the two of you. You blink away the sudden sting of tears and stroke her hair gently.

“There’s nothing I’d love more than staying home with you and your brother, but there are people out there who need mommy’s help,” you explain softly. “And if I can help them, I should, right?”

Byeol contemplates this for a moment, her young mind trying to understand the bigger picture. Finally, she nods. “Right.”

You lean in and press a soft kiss to her forehead as you say, “But no matter what, mommy will always be here—driving you to school, watching your soccer practices, getting burgers at the drive-thru, painting our nails together.”

She beams at that, her smile making your heart swell and you continue with the most important thing you want her to know, “And mommy will always love you. So much.”

“I love you too, mommy,” she whispers, resting her head against your chest.

You hold her close, savoring the tender moment. “You’ll always be mommy’s brightest star.”

When Byeol finally drifts to sleep beside you and Haneul’s feeding comes to an end, you find yourself unable to move without disturbing them. Minho comes back into the room, his smile softening when he sees you snuggled with both children.

“I’ll carry her to bed,” he whispers, gently lifting Byeol in his arms and carrying her off to her room.

Relieved, you carefully place Haneul in his crib, your body aching from the long day. As Minho returns, he notices you massaging the back of your neck and quickly steps behind you to help, his strong hands working out the tension in your shoulders.

“Honey, I know you’re tired, but...” he begins, his voice low and soft, “Can we talk for a few minutes?”

You tense at his words, immediately wondering if something’s wrong. “Depends on what you want to talk about,” you joke, trying to mask your unease. “Is it about a secret gambling debt or a dead body you keep in the trunk of your car?”

Minho laughs, burying his face in your neck. “Close, but not quite.”

Curious, you follow him to the kitchen, your tired mind racing with possibilities. It’s not until you see the cake sitting on the table that you realize—it’s his birthday. And you forgot.

"Oh no, it’s your birthday," you whisper, feeling a wave of guilt crash over you.

"It’s not yet," Minho reassures, pulling you into his arms. His smile is soft, teasing, but without any hint of disappointment.

You bury your face in his chest, tears of exhaustion and guilt welling up in your eyes. "I’m so sorry," you sob, embarrassed that you, of all people, forgot his birthday.

Minho holds you tight, his hands gently stroking your back. "There’s nothing to be sorry about, honey," he murmurs against your hair. "I just wanted to celebrate with you."

He tilts your chin up, wiping away your tears with his thumb. "Are you really going to cry on my birthday?" he asks with a playful smirk.

You sniffle, managing a small smile. "No."

Together, you light the candles, your heart swelling with gratitude for the way he handles moments like this—with patience, understanding, and love. When the clock strikes midnight, you cheerily announce, "It's officially your birthday!"

Minho closes his eyes and makes a wish, his hand still holding yours. After he blows out the candles, you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug.

"Happy birthday, honey," you say, planting a long, chaste kiss on his lips and when you pull back, you softly apologize, "I’m sorry I don’t have a gift for you, yet."

"You’ve given me more than I could ever ask for," Minho whispers, pulling you even closer.

His hands cup your face, and you can see the depth of his emotions in his eyes. "You gave me a family, two beautiful children... I can’t thank you enough for giving me this life."

His words are simple but filled with so much emotion that tears well up in your eyes again. You kiss him softly, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you—the love, the gratitude, the life you’ve built together.

"Oh, honey," you reply, your voice trembling as you cradle his face.

Minho kisses you again, slower this time, savoring every moment. "I promise I’ll always make you happy," he whispers, his forehead resting against yours.

"You already do, Minho," you whisper back. "Every single day."

His lips press against yours once more as he mutters, "I love you."

"I love you," you reply, your heart aching with happiness.

He kisses you again, the moment full of tenderness and gratitude but when he pulls back, he gives you a cheeky grin. “So... can I blow you next?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes at his predictable humor. “Be careful, or you’ll be a father of three on your next birthday.”

Minho smirks, pulling you closer. “I'm okay with that.”

As you hold him, encased in the warmth of his love, you realize once again that no matter how hard motherhood or life gets, you could only do this with him by your side. With Minho, you can weather any storm, face any challenge, and still feel like you’re the luckiest person in the world.

With him, you can do anything.

The parlor has just closed when the Oddinary guys barge in, loud and excited, with a birthday cake in hand. Minho knows he can’t stop them—even if he wanted to. Once they set their minds to something, there's no talking them out of it. After all, they’re his family, long before he made and built his own.

He sighs, watching as they gather in the living room, the cake’s candles glowing warmly. Felix takes charge, lighting them with a wide grin. Minho leans back on the sofa, not exactly thrilled to be the center of attention on a day he prefers to keep low-key. The only reason he even humored celebrating last night was because he didn’t want you to feel bad for almost forgetting.

You plop down next to him, startling him out of his thoughts. Without a word, you hand him a fresh bottle of beer, and he gladly accepts it, his arm naturally wrapping around you, pulling you close to his side.

The noise in the room fades into the background as you nestle against him, the warmth of your presence grounding him. Your eyes flick to Sujin, who’s sitting across from you, gently cradling baby Haneul in her arms. You smile softly, a thought forming in your mind.

“I don’t want to impose, but Sujin...” you begin, your tone casual yet filled with meaning. “I think you’re ready.”

Sujin’s brow furrows in confusion as she shifts Haneul slightly, the tattoo on her neck straining as she leans forward. “Ready for what?”

Minho chuckles lightly, his voice laced with amusement. “You know what she meant,” he quips, shooting a playful smirk at Sujin.

Her husband, seated beside her, grins. “As for me, I’m just waiting for her.”

Sujin’s head snaps toward him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. A slow smile begins to bloom on her face, softening her features as she glances back down at Haneul.

Minho shifts his focus to his daughter, Byeol, who’s sitting on the carpeted floor, caught between Felix and Yoon as they try to win her over. These two are in an animated debate, vying for her favor.

“Do you like Auntie Yoon more or Uncle Felix more?” Yoon asks, her voice filled with childlike curiosity, blissfully unaware of the intensity behind the question.

Minho knows this is one of those questions none of them is ever truly prepared to hear the answer to.

Byeol giggles, taking her time as if she’s carefully considering her options. After a long minute, she finally answers, “Uncle Felix!”

“I knew it!” Felix cheers in triumph, throwing his arms around Byeol and pulling her onto his lap.

Yoon, feigning disbelief, shakes her head. “No, I think Byeol isn’t taking enough time to think. I demand a retake!”

Felix, quick to defend his newfound title, presses his hands over Byeol’s ears. “No, you’re just jealous. Boooo!” he teases, sticking his tongue out and making silly faces at Yoon.

Minho fights the urge to smile, watching them act childish as usual. This kind of chaos—this kind of love—is something he cherishes, even if he’d never admit it out loud. Then, he turns his head, his gaze falling on you.

You haven’t changed. Not really. But at the same time, you have. It’s something subtle, something only he can see. A kind of growth and quiet strength that has always been there but now shines even brighter.

Some things will never change, though. Like the way you’re his anchor, the force that holds him down and keeps him steady. You’re the source of his strength and his love, the one person he trusts with every part of himself—and he knows you feel the same about him. And best of all, you’ll always be his.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” you ask, sensing the intensity in his gaze.

The noise around them swirls, but for Minho, in this moment, it’s just the two of you. He shakes his head slightly, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips.

“Nothing,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, letting the kiss convey what words can’t.

With the new addition to his family, the house feels crowded—maybe even too crowded. He glances around the room, taking in the sight of his daughter laughing with Felix and Yoon, his son sleeping peacefully in Sujin’s arms, and the people who have been by his side since the beginning. His home is growing. It’s crowded, noisy, chaotic—but it’s home.

For now, this is enough. This is everything. This is home.

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