Yura woke to a strange quiet.
Not the apartment quiet—Joon-ho's breathing, the refrigerator hum, the city outside.
A different kind. Internal. Like her body had paused mid-sentence.
She lay still for a moment, hand resting on her belly, listening.
The baby didn't kick. The baby didn't roll. It felt… settled.
Yura blinked at the dark ceiling, and then it happened.
A sudden, warm rush.
Not a cramp. Not a tightening.
A clean, unmistakable release.
Yura froze.
For half a second, her brain offered ridiculous options—did she… did she just pee? Did the water bottle leak? Did her body betray her in the least romantic way possible?
Then the warmth kept coming.
Yura sat up slowly. The sheet beneath her was damp. Not a little. Enough that there was no debating it.
She stared at it, very calm.
Then she turned her head.
Joon-ho was asleep on his back, one hand flung above his head like he'd finally stopped trying to guard her in his dreams.
"Joon-ho," Yura whispered.
