CHAPTER 36 – YOU'RE GOING TO BE A FATHER
This chapter is emotionally rich, quiet, and deeply intimate. It's not about grand gestures — it's about love in its most honest form: the moment one soul tells another, "We're about to change forever."
---
Morning
Seo-Ah had hidden the test in the bathroom cabinet, buried behind old shampoo bottles and a dusty first-aid kit. She hadn't told Min-Jun she bought it. She barely admitted it to herself.
The clinic had said it was too soon. But now it wasn't.
Now it was time.
Still, she didn't move. She sat on the edge of the bed in her robe, knees pulled to her chest, listening to the birds outside their window and the sound of Min-Jun in the kitchen, humming off-key as he made coffee.
It should've been a simple thing. A piece of plastic. A line or two.
But it felt like the whole world was holding its breath.
---
Thirty Minutes Later – Truth in the blink ink
She took the test.
Then paced.
Then sat.
Then stared.
Two lines.
No hesitation. No blur. No confusion.
Pregnant.
She didn't cry. Not yet.
She just sat on the bathroom floor, test trembling in her hand, and let the air fill her lungs like she hadn't breathed properly in years.
A child.
Their child.
Inside her.
She touched her stomach lightly, not because there was a bump — there wasn't — but because she suddenly felt full. Of life. Of love. Of fear and joy all tangled together.
And now she had to tell him.
---
Min-Jun came back from work and after freshening up, he went to the tiny greenhouse in the garden.
Min-Jun had built a tiny greenhouse in the back garden — not because he was good at gardening, but because Seo-Ah loved the idea of growing life with her hands.
She found him there, crouched beside a planter box, sleeves rolled up, trying (and failing) to trim the tomato vines properly.
He looked up, squinting in the sunlight. "Are you here to rescue these plants from my incompetence?"
"Maybe," she said, her voice softer than usual.
She crossed the path, holding something behind her back. When she reached him, she knelt too, beside the box, so they were eye-level.
"Min-Jun," she whispered.
He stilled. There was something in her voice — like wind before a storm, but gentler.
She brought her hand forward and showed him the test.
For a second, he didn't react.
He blinked, looked at her, then back at the small white plastic.
Then again.
His lips parted. "Is this…?"
Seo-Ah nodded slowly. "Two lines. I checked twice. I'm pregnant."
He didn't move. Not right away. Just looked at her — eyes wide, searching, vulnerable in a way she hadn't seen since that night he knelt beside her hospital bed.
Then, without a word, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face into the crook of her neck.
She felt the tremble in his breath. Heard the way it hitched.
And then he whispered, voice breaking, "You're going to be a mother."
Seo-Ah smiled, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. "And you're going to be a father."
They stayed there in the dirt, knees aching, hands pressed between them, as if anchoring the moment between heartbeats.
He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.
"Are you happy?" he asked.
She nodded. "Terrified. But yes."
He kissed her — not with fire or desperation, but reverence.
Like a prayer answered.
---
That Night
The bedroom felt different.
Not because anything had changed… but because everything had.
They lay together beneath the skylight, Seo-Ah's head on his chest, Min-Jun's hand resting protectively over her stomach. She hadn't told anyone yet. Not even her best friend. It was just their secret — sacred and delicate.
"What do you think it'll be?" she asked. "Boy or girl?"
He smiled against her hair. "Someone strong. Like you."
"Someone soft. Like you."
He chuckled. "We're in trouble, then."
She lifted her head to look at him, eyes shining. "Are you really okay with this? Even now that it's real?"
He turned serious, cupping her cheek. "Seo-Ah… I didn't know peace until I met you. And now I get to build a future with you. I'm not just okay. I'm whole."
Her eyes filled again, and she nodded against his palm.
And then, beneath the glow of the stars, they whispered dreams — names, nursery colors, bedtime stories — building a life out of nothing but hope and love.
---
Seo-Ah opened her old leather-bound journal and wrote a date at the top of a fresh page.
Then:
Today I told him.
I'm carrying his child.
He held me like the whole world depended on that one moment.
Maybe it did.
She smiled, touched her belly again, and whispered,
"You are already loved."
*****************
Six Weeks Along
The sun no longer rose alone in their home.
Now it woke with a purpose — soft footsteps from the bathroom, clinking cups of warm lemon water, and the occasional soft groan from Seo-Ah curled up on the couch, wrapped in three layers of blankets even when it wasn't cold.
Min-Jun had taken to watching her like she was something made of glass and sunlight — beautiful, sacred, and very breakable.
"Stop staring," she mumbled one morning, eyes still half-closed as she hugged a hot water bottle.
"I'm not staring. I'm studying," he replied, placing a small bowl of ginger candies on the side table.
"Why do you look like you're preparing for battle?"
He showed her his phone — a list of pregnancy symptoms, remedies, what-to-do's, what-not-to-do's, and five bookmarked parenting books.
"I'm taking this seriously."
Seo-Ah chuckled softly, wincing slightly at a cramp. "You've survived mafia enemies, corporate betrayal, and family legacy. But one pregnant woman has you in full crisis mode."
"You're not just a pregnant woman. You're mine."
He sat down beside her, gently lifted her feet onto his lap, and began rubbing them without being asked.
Her breath caught.
Love, she realized, didn't always come with fireworks.
Sometimes it came in ginger tea at 3 a.m., warm socks folded beside the bed, and the way he memorized every food that made her nauseous.
---
Week Seven – The Cravings Begin
She wanted tangerines.
At midnight.
With honey.
"And seaweed soup," she added, buried under the covers.
Min-Jun blinked. "That's not even in the same flavor family."
"I don't care."
She rolled over dramatically, pouting into her pillow.
Min-Jun sighed, grabbed his jacket, and muttered something about craving madness before disappearing out the door.
He returned forty minutes later, windblown, holding a small bag of peeled tangerines, a thermos of seaweed soup from their favorite place, and — because he couldn't help himself — a little stuffed bunny from the convenience store.
Seo-Ah blinked in surprise as he placed it beside her.
"You went shopping… for the baby?"
"No," he said too quickly. "It just looked soft."
She smiled, pulling him down beside her. "You're already so in love, aren't you?"
He didn't deny it.
---
Week Eight down
The mood swings hit like a storm cloud.
It was a Tuesday afternoon. They were folding laundry. Seo-Ah held up a tiny onesie they'd bought just in case.
And then, just like that, she began to cry.
Not pretty tears.
Big, loud, messy ones.
"I'm scared," she sobbed, clutching the soft fabric. "What if I mess this up? What if I'm not enough?"
Min-Jun froze, then dropped the shirt he was folding and knelt in front of her.
"Seo-Ah," he whispered, placing both hands on her knees. "You're the strongest person I know. You're already enough. You were enough before this baby, and you'll be enough after."
She wiped her eyes. "But I'm a mess."
"You're our mess. And I love you."
She threw her arms around him, and they sat there on the carpeted floor for what felt like hours — not because they needed to, but because there was nowhere safer in the world than each other's arms.
---
Week Nine
They went to the clinic on a rainy morning, hand in hand, Seo-Ah wearing Min-Jun's oversized coat because nothing else felt comfortable anymore.
She hadn't eaten.
She was nauseous.
She was nervous.
Min-Jun noticed her silent trembling and squeezed her hand. "Whatever happens, I'm here."
The doctor smiled warmly, slid the wand across her stomach, and turned up the volume.
Then—
A sound.
Fast. Steady. Strong.
Like a hummingbird's wings.
Like the beat of a war drum.
Like life.
Seo-Ah's eyes filled.
Min-Jun leaned closer, unable to breathe.
"That's your baby," the doctor said gently.
He turned to Seo-Ah, his eyes shining with something deeper than love.
Awe.
"I didn't think anything could scare me more than losing you," he whispered. "But now… this heartbeat? I'd fight the world to protect it."
She nodded, her fingers clutching his.
"Me too."
---
Min-Jun sat in the nursery, now freshly painted, holding a pen and a blank page.
To my child,
I never knew I could love someone I hadn't met.
I never knew silence could be so full.
I never thought a heartbeat could sound like music.
But you've changed everything.
I don't promise to be perfect.
But I promise this:
I will protect you.
I will love you.
I will never let the past define your future.
You are already the best thing I've ever done.
Love,
Dad
He folded the letter and placed it in the small drawer of the nursery cabinet — beside the bunny he swore he didn't buy for the baby.
----
Later that night, Seo-Ah leaned back against Min-Jun, his arms wrapped around her, her head resting just below his chin.
The stars glowed outside their window again.
"Do you still read the parenting books?" she murmured sleepily.
"Only chapter four. The one about emotional safety and bonding."
She smiled. "You're going to be amazing."
He kissed the crown of her head.
"So are you."
And in that moment — full of nausea, fear, laughter, cravings, softness, swollen ankles, and overwhelming love — they didn't need certainty.
They only needed each other.
And the sound of a tiny, steady heartbeat… still echoing in their minds.