Chapter 139

Seoul’s cup had a straw fitted into the lid. The moment his rice bowl was empty, he turned toward the cup Do-hyeop held out and drank obediently.

“……”

Tae-eun edged half a step backward. She had visited enough times to lose count on both hands and had witnessed scenes like this repeatedly. Somehow, they never became less astonishing.

“I should take these home and put them in a vase.”

“I don’t like that idea. Leave them here. I’ll buy you separate flowers to take home.”

“…I want to take these with me, though.”

“No.”

“Okay…”

Despite being denied, Seoul hugged the bouquet close, his face pink with happiness.

Today was the day he had been counting toward with breathless anticipation. At three o’clock, the baby would finally leave the incubator. Until now, Seoul had been allowed only one visit a day to look at him through glass. Today he would be able to hold him for as long as he wished.

Seoul had awakened at five that morning, scrubbed himself thoroughly, combed his hair, covered his skin in lotion, and eaten a proper breakfast. After his morning walk, he had insisted on washing again and cleansing his face a second time. Naturally, Do-hyeop had handled every step for him.

The cost of rising before dawn was predictable: Seoul had nodded off throughout the morning and finally surrendered to a deep one-hour nap. Freshly awake, cheeks faintly puffy, he now ate lunch with an armful of sunflowers still pressed against him.

“I’m full.”

“Nope. Not happening.”

At Do-hyeop’s flat refusal, Seoul hesitated only a second before opening his mouth again. Whatever expression Tae-eun was making behind him, Do-hyeop fed him three more bites before finally clearing the tray.

“You must have plenty of free time. If your business is done, get lost.”

“I was already planning to leave on my own, thank you very much.”

Tae-eun collected her handbag with a shake of the head. Seoul immediately sat straighter.

“No, please stay longer if you like.”

“Ah, no, it’s fine. It’s a happy day, so I just wanted to drop off flowers for Seoul-ie before heading out.”

Seoul rarely allowed people close. Tae-eun had grown fond enough of that privilege that leaving always came with a little reluctance.

“You could wait to see Taeyang before you go…”

Tae-eun looked at him affectionately and waved both hands.

“No, you three should spend cozy time together today. I’ll visit again later with my husband.”

“Yes. Thank you so much for coming.”

Seoul thanked her again, hugging the flowers to his chest. How could anyone have gotten someone this young pregnant? Before meeting Seoul, Tae-eun had doted shamelessly on Do-hyeop. A few days around this gentle young man had shifted her loyalties almost completely.

“Ahem! I’m off. I’ll come again, Seoul-ah.”

“Don’t come so often.”

“No, please visit anytime.”

Even their farewell produced opposite answers. It was fortunate Seoul was more resilient than he looked; had he been as fragile as his appearance suggested, living with Do-hyeop would have been an ordeal. Shaking her head, Tae-eun stepped into the corridor and let the suite door close behind her.

Broad-shouldered men in black suits stood outside like stone sentries. Tae-eun glanced over them, crossed the long hall, and pressed the elevator button. Do-hyeop had rented the entire postpartum-care floor, so the elevator she arrived in had remained waiting and opened at once. Fussy. Overprotective. Ridiculous. She shivered theatrically at the thought, then stepped inside smiling.

After Tae-eun left, Seoul obediently opened his mouth while Do-hyeop brushed his teeth, rinsed, and helped him change. Do-hyeop insisted that with a face like his he looked good in anything. Seoul answered that he wanted to make a good first impression on the baby. In the end, he chose a plain cotton T-shirt because it would feel soft against infant skin, and Do-hyeop could only laugh.

Knock, knock.

“Coming in.”

Seoul was standing near the bed, drinking from the cup Do-hyeop held, when the nurse’s voice made him straighten abruptly.

“Yes.”

Do-hyeop wiped a stray line of water from Seoul’s chin with his thumb as Seoul hurried to answer.

Rumble.

The door slid open. A small wheeled bassinet rolled into the suite.

“……”

Seoul swallowed and stepped forward. The nurse brought the bassinet to a stop directly in front of him.

An infant slept inside, swaddled securely beneath layers of thick, luxurious fabric.

“The room is quite bright, so I’ll dim the lighting a little.”

“…Yes.”

Seoul answered a beat late. He was transfixed by the baby’s faint wriggle and sleepy yawn, as though the child somehow knew every eye in the room belonged to him.

“He just finished nursing his formula and is dozing off. You may hold him.”

“……”

Seoul only fidgeted with his fingers despite the permission. Smiling, the nurse reached down and carefully lifted the baby from the bassinet.

“You know how to hold him, right? Support the head…”

“…Ah. Yes.”

Between the staff’s lessons and the baby-care manuals he had devoured lately, Seoul knew the technique perfectly well. He could probably name the exact page that explained it. None of that made his hands feel steadier.

Gently.

Seoul extended his arms. The nurse lowered the baby into them, and he instinctively stopped breathing as he adjusted his hold with exquisite care.

“……”

Weeks in the incubator had not made the child look much larger. He remained tiny. Yet once Seoul held him, that small weight carried an almost overwhelming gravity—the undeniable presence of a living person.

For a long while, Seoul simply looked. He committed everything to memory: the fluttering lids, the button-small nose, the lips making faint suckling motions in sleep.

“…He’s so very small.”

“Isn’t he? Still, he grew vigorously. He’s slightly smaller than average for his gestation, but right within normal parameters.”

Seoul nodded. Until today the baby had been surrounded by wires, sensors, and machines. Now he rested quietly in Seoul’s arms as though he had finally reached the place meant for him.

“…Hello, Taeyang-ah.”

Afraid of speaking too loudly, Seoul whispered. The infant’s eyelids trembled at the sound, though he did not open them beneath the dimmed lights.

“It’s wonderful to meet you.”

He greeted him once more. The baby only pursed and relaxed his lips with a tiny sigh. It was enough to make Seoul smile. Faint breaths warmed the air above the snug layers of undershirt and blanket.

“…Director. Isn’t he lovely?”

“He hasn’t even opened his eyes, so what’s there to look at.”

Do-hyeop’s words were gruff, but his gaze never left Seoul’s face. Seoul smiled too rarely; every time he did, Do-hyeop’s heart seemed to catch. There was no room in him to look anywhere else.

“There’s a camera installed in the nursery room inside. You know that, right?”

Seoul met the nurse’s eyes and nodded. From today onward, the baby would sleep, eat, and stay here with them.

“You can look directly through the glass partition from here. There are curtains, so when the baby sleeps, you can draw them and watch via the monitor.”

“Yes. I was briefed on everything.”

Seoul nodded again as the nurse explained. Do-hyeop remained quiet. To him, the sight was almost absurd: a child holding a smaller child. Yet Seoul’s soft, enduring smile was so beautiful that he had no intention of disturbing it.

“Have you decided on a name for Taeyang?”

“…Not yet.”

“Take your time and let us know whenever you decide.”

“Yes.”

“I heard you hired private professional babysitters. Will they be arriving here?”

At the question, Seoul glanced toward Do-hyeop. He was the one who had already hired three live-in caregivers.

“No. Later at home.”

Do-hyeop had originally planned to bring them to the hospital today, but Seoul had refused. The staff here were already capable of helping, and while the baby was still this small, Seoul wanted to hold him and care for him himself. The caregivers would therefore begin at the house a month later.

“Ah, then I will guide you through what you need directly. Taeyang is very gentle and sleeps soundly. When it’s time for his next bottle, I’ll return, so you can lay him down to sleep now.”

“…Yes.”

True to the nurse’s description, Haedam yawned in Seoul’s arms, mouth opening into a perfect little circle. He had been drowsy since entering the room and was plainly sinking toward sleep.

“Please ring whenever you need assistance.”

“Thank you.”

Rumble.

Even after the nurse slipped quietly away, Seoul held the baby a little longer.

Letting go felt impossible. He wanted to keep holding him and thank him for surviving every frightening, exhausting trial that had brought them here.

But a sleeping infant could not remain in his arms forever. After several more gentle pats, Seoul reluctantly laid him in the crib inside the nursery.

Click.

Seoul tiptoed out and eased the door shut. Do-hyeop immediately took advantage of the opening and swept him into his arms.

“Ah.”

Seoul looped his arms around Do-hyeop’s neck without protest. Even as he allowed himself to be carried away, his eyes remained fixed on the nursery door.

Rustle.

Do-hyeop tucked a thick duvet around him. Seoul settled back against his chest, found a comfortable position, and immediately reached for the monitor he had barely put down since arriving at the hospital. Until this morning, the screen had shown the incubator. Now it displayed the darkened nursery in night vision, with Haedam sleeping peacefully inside. Seoul spread his palm against the glass and stroked it once.

“It feels so surreal. That he is my child…”

“Yeah. Fucking surreal to me too.”

Do-hyeop answered just as softly. Seoul—still so young himself—had somehow given birth to something smaller still. The fact remained unbelievable, although Do-hyeop was entirely responsible for it. He pressed one firm kiss after another to the back of Seoul’s head, his ear, his cheek. A trace of formula seemed to cling to Seoul’s skin.

The nursery curtains were drawn tight so the baby could sleep, but the outer suite remained flooded with bright afternoon sun.

Seoul turned toward the window. Beyond the glass, the hospital gardens were thick with green lawn and new leaves. Warm wind stirred the trees. On his walk that morning, he had not even needed a jacket.

“You know…”

“Yeah.”

The grounds below were empty, exactly as Do-hyeop had promised: no unauthorized person could enter. Do-hyeop caught Seoul’s earlobe lightly between his teeth, released it, and waited for whatever thought was forming.

“I thought of a name for Taeyang.”

Do-hyeop had never shown much curiosity about the subject, but Seoul knew he would not dismiss it either.

Seoul pulled his gaze from the lawn and looked up at the pale sky. It was slightly overcast despite the bright sun, but the memory returning to him belonged to another day entirely.

“Haedam.”

“Alright.”

Do-hyeop kissed Seoul’s shoulder.

“Because a dream I had a while ago came faintly back to me.”

The dream remained blurred at the edges. What stayed clear was the sensation of dazzling sunlight filling his embrace until warmth and radiance seemed to tickle against his skin.