The apartment felt different with the baby inside it.
Not because anything had changed—same couch, same kitchen island, the same faint scent of laundry soap and garlic lingering in the curtains.
Because the air itself had a new rule now.
Be quiet. Be careful. Be present.
Yura stood in the entryway for a moment, one hand on the baby carrier handle, the other braced against the wall. Her body still moved like it was learning itself again—slow, cautious, sore in places she didn't want to name out loud.
Joon-ho hovered beside her, keys still in his hand like he'd forgotten how doors worked.
Mirae slipped in behind them with a tote bag and a pillow tucked under her arm, eyes scanning the apartment like she was stepping onto a set—only her face wasn't performing.
Harin followed with two grocery bags, moving with quiet purpose.
"Okay," Harin said, voice low as if the walls could wake the baby. "Shoes off. Hands washed. Bags down. I'll disinfect the doorknobs."
