“Is he dead?!”

“Oh my god, Taehyung I told you to brush your teeth before we left!”

“What should we do?!”

I was cackling somewhere in the background. The boys were panicked and frightened and were in such a state of shock, they didn’t even notice me—nor the BTS posters lining the walls on the entry way.

And yes, as predicted, my father had collapsed briefly after opening the door, and now, all seven of the members crowded around him as though they had witnessed a murder.

Maybe they didn’t see the recognition pass over the plump man’s face before his knees buckled. I sure as hell did, and I did feel a bit guilty about it, but I knew surprising him that way would be something he’d forgive me for.

I lightly pushed through the crowd, kneeling down to my dad’s level and supporting his neck. “Dad.” I shook him gently, his cheeks puffing out. I called for him again, and his eyes fluttered open. “Oh... Reina, you wouldn’t believe the dream I just—”

“Is he okay?”

My dad released an incredibly unmanly scream and wheeled back until he managed to gain footing and stagger to his feet. His palms went over his lips, eyes widened like Jimin’s cheeks, and he struggled to form words.

“B-B-B-B—” He looked between each member, scanning them thoroughly as they moved back to their standing positions and watched on in sheer surprise.

“B-B-B...” His arms suddenly flailed out like an exotic monkey hyped about a bunch of bananas. “BTS!”

I grinned widely, turning to gauge the reaction of the group. Simultaneous jaw droppings around, and I fell back to the ground with shameless laughter.

In the aftermath, when my dad finally calmed down—and the hyperventilating ceased— we all got along and I translated to the guys all my dad wanted to say. It was an interesting experience, and I could tell the boys were pleased they were introduced to a new kind of ARMY.

Before we departed, I had the boys sign some of my dad’s posters, in which he retaliated with consuming hugs and tears of absolute joy.

I trailed behind Bangtan as they waved happy goodbyes out the door, but my dad then called for me to wait up, a look on his face that was something similar to what he displayed the previous evening.

“Thank you so much for bringing them here.” I nodded, a knowing glint in my eye. Job well done, indeed. He continued. “But mainly... Thank you for coming out here yourself. I was selfish for contacting you just to meet them, but I realized something.”

He wrapped his thick arms around my frame, and my breath hitched. The hug was sentimental, a definite gesture of farewell. “I’m so grateful you came.” After a moment of hearing his soft voice become even softer, the world turned silent. “I could have gone without Bangtan being here, so long as I got to see my baby girl.”

No, I wasn’t crying. A piece of dust just floated into my eye, was all. Simple as that. Damn dust. I bit my lip, a tight grin that fought back against the forlorn feeling within me. I didn’t know what I wanted to say—probably something along the lines of “who the hell is your baby girl? I’m grooown”—but all I could do was wrap my arms around him. My words came out on their own accord, a truth that couldn’t even be remotely masked by my traditional tongue of sarcasm.

“I’ll miss you, dad.”

There was a person in the mirror. Her hair was a deep, wavy brown, reaching her mid back. The pajama pants that used to cling loosely had grown snug around her hips, her tight pants long since abandoned in the weeks. The shirt she wore to sleep wasn’t a tank top, but a baggy T, black to conceal the bra that had become far too unsupporting of her inflating s. Yes, inflating s.

I groaned out. It had only been three months, but the barfing did nothing to quench my consistent hunger. Of course, my abdomen was just then beginning to show, a small raised bump that would go without notice for anyone who wasn’t paying a