The apartment was finally quiet.
The baby had gone down without a fight—miracle enough that Yura hadn't dared celebrate it out loud. She slipped back into the bedroom on soft feet, closing the door with care, the hallway light dimmed to a narrow amber line.
Joon‑ho was already in bed, half‑propped on a pillow, scrolling absently through his phone. He looked up when she came in, relief flickering across his face.
"She's out?" he whispered.
Yura nodded, easing onto the mattress beside him. Her body ached in that dull, post‑day way—tired but restless, skin too aware of itself. She reached over, fingers sliding beneath the hem of his T‑shirt, palm warm against his stomach.
"You did good today," she murmured. "With her. With everything."
Joon‑ho exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders. "I didn't feel like I did much."
Yura smiled faintly. "You're doing more than you think."
