In a grand gesture, one that told Luhan just how proud Kai was of his business, the young man spread his arms and said, “This is the main studio. It’s the largest on the premises and where a majority of the classes are held. But there are a couple more classrooms down the hall over there, and when construction starts next week, we’ll amost double our size.”

Luhan’s eyes trailed across the bright wooden floors, past the wide mirrors lining the walls, and settled finally on the peeling paint that was nearly everywhere. “I take it business is going well then? To be able to afford not only additional space, but also massive renovations.”

Kai smiled wide still looking so proud. “I was afraid to say to anyone just how fast the business is expanding. I didn’t want to jinx myself, but yeah. Things are going great.”

Of all of Sehun’s friends, Luhan liked Kai the best. He didn’t think Suho counted. So excluding Suho, Kai was the most friendly and personable of the group. He’d almost gone out of his way to make Luhan feel accepted, was constantly inviting him out to lunch, and was starting to give Tao a run for his money with belly rubs.

“I think it’s amazing what you have here,” Luhan said, giving him a firm nod. “You’re in your early twenties but you already own a lucrative business. Not only that, it’s a business that really helps people, and doesn’t take advantage of them. That’s admirable.”

Kai wiggled his eyebrows. “You know, the fastest way to lose baby weight is cardio. Once the construction is done and I hire a few new teachers, we’ll be offering cardio classes, conditioning and strength training, and that sort. It won’t just be dance classes. I’m even thinking of adding some yoga and pilates. Those seem to be popular right now.”

Luhan threw him a dirty glare. “Is that your way of telling me I’m getting fat?”

When Kai rushed to sputter his defense, eyes fraught with panic, Luhan merely laughed, the sound echoing through the room and up to the high ceilings.

“I could lay off the extra deserts right now,” Luhan said. “Especially since I have to watch my blood sugar now.”

Kai took a step closer. “I saw you at the picnic, taking your blood sugar level. And then Sehun told the rest of us afterwards that the doctor diagnosed you with pregnancy diabetes.”

“Gestational diabetes,” Luhan said easily. “And the doctor expects everything to go back to normal with my blood sugar levels once I deliver.”

From the corner of his eye Luhan caught his reflection in the huge mirrors. From his side profile he looked absolutely gigantic, well into his second trimester, the baby more than settled in for the long haul. He’d been relegated to pregnancy clothing for months now, and while some of it was stylish, it was all overly priced, and only made Luhan long for the moment he could slide back into his skinny jeans.

But it wasn’t a burden that Luhan had been shouldering alone. When Sehun had agreed to go with him fifty-fifty on the baby, he’d also meant financially. So now Sehun bought a good deal of the clothes that Luhan needed, purchased the expensive, extra supportive shoes that made walking easier, and helped cover any unexpected expenses that came up from time to time. He’d even managed to get Luhan put on his medical insurance, and from the way Chanyeol told it, Chanyeol who was funny and friendly and Luhan’s favorite after Kai, it hadn’t been easy. But Sehun had gotten it done all the same, and now Luhan didn’t have to worry about paying out of pocket for hospital visits, medication, and especially the upcoming delivery expenses.

Sehun had, as far as Luhan was concerned, fully stepped up. It was utterly refreshing and a huge relief.

“So what do you think?” Kai asked, gesturing to the peeling paint that Luhan had spied minute ago. “Is it salvageable?”

With a frown, Luhan asked, “Are you sure you want me to be the one to do this? I mean … this is a huge job for someone like me. I’ve only just graduated from the university this year.”

With a shrug, Kai asked, “Do you think you could do it?”

When Kai had called him up the previous day, inquiring about his services for a total rebranding of his dance studio, Luhan had been flattered, but also unsure. After all, there were professionals who’d been remodeling businesses for years that were probably better choices, and there was a tick at the back of Luhan’s mind that Kai might only be offering because of Sehun.

“I’ve never taken on something a huge as this would be,” Luhan admitted. “But me, Kai? Are you absolutely sure?”

Kai certainly looked so as he said, “Sehun took me to see the work you did at the hospital, and I might have snuck a couple of looks at your portfolio that last time it and I were in the same room. It was when Chanyeol and I came by to pick you up for another baby store run last week. What you paint, Luhan, is truly art.”

“I paint murals and portraits,” Luhan stated.

“You infuse life onto blank surfaces,” Kai said, making his way to the nearby wall and scratching off the paint too easily. “I guess I could just go get anyone else to paint the walls. I could get someone who spent years studying the best color to reflect the light in the room, and who knows all about negative and positive space. And they’d be good, no doubt, but that’s not what I want.”

Skeptically, Luhan stated, “You don’t want good?”

“Nope,” Kai said. “I want special. I want amazing. I want someone who understands how art is supposed to make your soul feel, and can actually put something that complex and that beautiful on a wall which reflects to anyone who passes by. I’ve seen your work, Luhan. I know a good artist when I see one. I know a special artist when I see one, too. I want you to do the whole studio, so when my clients are learning hip-hop, everything around them screams energy. And when they’re learning complex salsa moves, they feel the passion and seduction. I know you can made the yoga room feel like serenity, and this room, the big room, you’ll do something with it that I can’t even imagine yet. So Luhan, do you think you can do it?”

It was … a huge undertaking that Kai apparently wanted from him. “How many rooms are we talking? In total?”

“Almost a dozen,” Kai said. “I’d need you to do the whole building, including the reception area.”

Luhan poked at his stomach. “And you do realize that paint is a no-go for me right now? I can’t have any prolonged exposure to paint fumes until after I deliver, and ideally not until a couple of weeks afterwards.”

Kai arched an eyebrow. “Did you miss the part where I told you that my dance studio is about to nearly double its size? Construction hasn’t even started yet on the additions. It’ll be a couple of months before it’s finished, and by then you’ll be waiting to have your baby any day. I figured that while construction is going on, you and I could plan out each room, and then when we’re ready to go, you’ll only have to put the paint on the walls.”

The door across the room popped open and a man came striding through, a duffle bag hooked over one shoulder. Kai raised a hand to the man and said lowly to Luhan, “There’s a ballroom dancing class set to start in about fifteen minutes.”

“Ballroom dancing?” Luhan asked in disbelief. “Is there a huge demand for that?”

Kai laughed and said, “I wouldn’t call it a huge demand, but the class also teaches the basics of waltzing and more formal kinds of slow dancing, and you’ll be surprised how many teenagers will come through those doors in fifteen minutes who want to learn. I think most of them want to eventually go to college in America, and Hollywood movies have apparently misled them as to what kind of dancing actually goes on at college.”

Luhan joined in his laugher, following him out of the room. “Considering I saw a whole lot of dancing at college, and none of it was that formal, I might be inclined to agree.”

Kai took them down a long hallway and towards the receptionist area where a petite woman with a kind smile was taking furiously on the phone while simultaneously typing on the computer in front of her.

“Do you teach any of the classes here?” Luhan asked.

“I taught almost all of them in the beginning,” Kai said. “I started out in a one room studio space with seven paying students. It was rough at first, but I loved every second of it.”

Lining the walls of the office were awards and dozens upon dozens of accolades for Kai. There were plenty for his students at the studio as well, but most of them were given to Kai for excellence at dance competitions.

“You didn’t think of going professional ever?” Luhan asked. A couple of teenagers were coming through the front door just like Kai had predicted, chatting happily and easily to each other. The second they saw Kai they gave him deep, respectful bows, and then hurried along.

Kai said, “Are you kidding? That was my dream! But almost right out of high school I hurt my waist pretty bad. It never healed right, and eventually I had to face the truth of what my situation is. Plus, what’s that saying go about teaching?”

“Those who can’t do, teach?” Luhan offered.

“Got it.” Kai gave him a friendly grin. “I would have given anything to be a professional dancer, but hey, this isn’t half bad. Now enough beating around the bush. If this is something you want to do, you have to let me know so we can start making plans and I can get a budget going for your expenses and services. But Luhan, don’t let me pressure you into this if you don’t want to. I know it’s asking a lot.”

“I’m worried about meeting any deadlines you might have,” Luhan said honestly. “I’m going to have a newborn when this project is expected to start, and it’s a lot for one person regardless of that.”

Kai didn’t look dissuaded in the lead bit. “Then just think about it, okay? You know you have a million willing and happy uncles for that baby, and Sehun, too. And you really didn’t think I’d make you do all this alone, right? I want you to take the lead, and have the final say over what goes on the walls, but you can have all the support and help you want. Luhan, think about it. Get back to me in a couple of weeks. How much I like you isn’t going to depend on whether or not you want to do this.”

Luhan sagged a bit gratefully. “I’ll think about it. I’ll …” Luhan broke off as a familiar face approached the glass doors to the studio. “Is that Baekhyun?”

It really was. There was no mistaking the short, slim man striding up to the door. But Luhan kind of wished it wasn’t. And he felt guilty thinking it, but Baekhyun was someone who made Luhan feel uncomfortable. He’d never been outright rude or mean, and there’d been no dirty looks or scathing comments. But unlike the others, Bakehyun had never been warm or welcoming. Baekhyun hadn’t gone out of his way to befriend Luhan. And outside of the picnic that had actually gone a hundred times better than Luhan had expected, he hadn’t seen Baekhyun but one other time.

“I forgot,” Kai said suddenly, rushing to meet him, “I knew he was coming down here today. I just forgot.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Baekhyun said, carrying with him a stack of folders stuffed with paper, and looking more than a little irritated from the heat outside. “One of the parents wanted to stay and talk with me after school let out. I would have ditched out early if I knew it was to yell at me for apparently being too soft on her son.”

“Soft?” Kai asked, then gestured to Luhan. “Look who else is here.”

There was just a second of unease on Baekhyun’s face before he offered Luhan a wave and said, “Yes, soft. Apparently I’m babying her son. I think she’d rather I send him home with bruised shins, than happy face stickers.”

Luhan asked softly, “You’re a teacher, right?”

Baekhyun gave a nod. “I teach kindergarten.”

Kai scoffed. “I hope you ignored that crazy lady. You know how parents get with their kids.” Kai’s eyes cut over to Luhan. “No offense, Luhan.”

Luhan grinned. “No worries. I think kids in general make people a little crazy. Though I hope I don’t turn out like that.”

Baekhyun’s face twisted into a grimace and Luhan wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

“That the paperwork?” Kai asked, intercepting the awkwardness of the moment. “The permission slips?”

“All twenty-four,” Baekhyun said, handing them over to Kai. “Including the one for the child whose parents think that a six-year-old doesn’t deserve praise and encouragement. So we’re all set. I’ll bring the rugrats by Monday morning at nine, and you make sure they have a good time.”

“Kids love to dance,” Kai said, looking over the permission forms. “And the best thing about them is that they don’t care if they look like fools doing it.”

Patting a hand against his stomach, Luhan said, “I hope my daughter has a teacher like you one day, Baekhyun. I bet your kids love you.”

“Undoubtedly,” Baekhyun said, taking the folders back. “I’m going to go give these to Hwasoo to make copies.” Baekhyun headed off towards the front desk without sparing Luhan another look.

“He hates me,” Luhan said flatly, finding it the only possible conclusion.

“He doesn’t hate you,” Kai said, wincing a little. “I mean … I don’t think so.”

Huffy, Luhan replied, “That isn’t exactly instilling confidence.”

Kai sighed, then reached for Luhan’s shoulder and said, “If anything, just remember that how he is around you isn’t personal. It might seem that way, but it’s not.”

With a twinge of pain from his back, Luhan sank into one of the nearby seats. “It sure feels that way.”

Kai sat heavily next to him. “But it really isn’t, Luhan. It just comes down to the fact that you have the unfortunate circumstance of looking a little bit too much like Baek’s best friend, and of being pregnant by Sehun. You know that Jae and Baekhyun were best friends, right?”

Luhan gave a slight nod. “For a long time, right?”

“Since about first grade,” Kai said. “They were more like brothers, and they were pretty much inseparable. Sehun had to win Baekhyun over before he could even have a shot at Jae. And when Jae found out he was pregnant, the first person he told wasn’t Sehun, it was Baekhyun. When Jae died, Baekhyun was like Sehun, barely keeping it together.”

“I can’t help that I’m pregnant,” Luhan pointed out. “And I’m not looking to replace how important Jae was to Baekhyun or Sehun. I just want to be me, and it’s completely possible for Sehun to love this daughter as much as the one that passed away.”

“I get that,” Kai said. “And I think Sehun finally gets that. But Baekhyun? Maybe not so much. Still, he’ll have to come around eventually. It’s going to be hard for him to ignore your daughter as soon as Sehun starts carting her around, being extremely obnoxious and pretending like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.”

Luhan glared a little. “She will be.”

Kai sobered a bit. “Baekhyun just needs to get to know you. Once he figures out that you’re a really nice person, and that Sehun caring for you has nothing to do with how much he loved Jae, he’ll receive you a little better.”

Before Luhan could ponder those words, Baekhyun came back upon them, free from the folders, asking, “Kai? Lunch?”

The feeling that he wasn’t invited was all too obvious to Luhan, but just as well. “Kai,” Luhan said, touching his sleeve. “Thank you for the offer and I promise to give it real consideration before coming to a decision. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I should get going.”

“You don’t want to eat with us?” Kai asked, looking confused.

Luhan did not look to Baekhyun as he replied, “I’ve got to get home and make an important phone call.”

Kai seemed unhappy with his answer, but offered, “Let me walk you to your car at least. Maybe I can try and bribe you a little more on the way to accept my offer. You do this for me and you’ll get any class you want to take for the rest of your life, completely free. Think about it, the ability to embarrass Sehun at the drop of a hat by insisting the two of you lean line dancing, or worse, ballet.”

There was a twitch of a smile on Baekhyun’s face.

“Tempting,” Luhan chuckled. “Actually, I don’t have a car. I took the bus here. It’s no big deal. The stop nearest me is only about a block away, so at least for the moment, I don’t need a car. I think I’ll have to reconsider that once the baby is here, but for now, walking is fine.”

“Walking?” Baekhyun asked sharply, and it might have been the lighting, but to Luhan he looked quite pale all of the sudden.

“It’s okay,” Luhan said slowly, wondering why both Baekhyun and Kai were sharing worried, almost downright frightened looks with each other. “My doctor said it was fine to walk for a bit, just as long as I rest once my ankles or back start to protest.”

“You can’t walk,” Kai said suddenly.

Luhan wondered, “Why not?”

It was the most unexpected thing in the world when Baekhyun volunteered, “I’ll take you home. Kai, I’ll be back in around twenty, okay?”

Unable to believe the offer, Luhan asked, “You’re going to drive me home?”

“Come on,” Baekhyun said, leaving no more room for argument, and he was already blowing through the front doors to the studio before Luhan could say a word more.

“Why is this a big deal?” Luhan asked, something tugging at his memory. “Sehun gave me the same freaked out look that you and Baekhyun just did when I mentioned I was going to walk somewhere. What’s going on?”

Gently, Kai steered Luhan towards the front doors. Through them Luhan could already see Baekhyun waiting by a silver car. “Just let Baekhyun drive you home.”

Annoyance crashed through Luhan. “Don’t hide things from me.”

“Its not mine to hide,” Kai said simply, then he was almost dashing away like a coward.

Baekhyun drove Luhan to his apartment in absolute silence, but just before Luhan exited the car, he caught Luhan’s arm and said, “Do us all a favor and just call someone if you need to go somewhere.”

Luhan tired not to lose his temper as he said, “The bus works just fine for me. I don’t need people to waste their time driving me around.”

Eyes narrowing, Baekhyun asked, “Why would you want to take the bus?”

Luhan challenged, “Why would I want to put my friends out every time I need to go to the store when I have legs that work just fine, along with a bus pass that does as well?”

Baekhyun was visibly gritting his teeth as he said, “If you want to go somewhere, just get a ride.”

Luhan ducked out of the car as quickly as his expanded waistline would allow, and without a look back to Baehyun, climbed the stairs to his apartment.

Once inside he shut the door behind him and leaned back against it, almost dreading what was to come.

He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Kai that he had an important phone call to make at home.

More specifically, he had to call China. He had to call his parents. He’d opened their letter.

Since the arrival of the first letter Luhan had done his best to pretend that he’d never seen the envelope. He ignored the second one as well. But by the time the third arrived in just over a week, Luhan’s curiosity had gotten the best of him. And hope. The last bit of hope in him had crawled its way to the surface, baiting Luhan with the potential of reconciliation.

He still had no idea what the first two had said, they’d long since gone out with the trash. But the third, and the only one he’d opened, and said plainly in his mother’s tone of near constant irritation, that she need him to contact her. The letter had stated that she’d tried calling, only to find her number blocked, and the same via e-mail. She’d written longhand to him because it was the only way to believe he’d hear from her. She wanted him to call home.

Luhan had put the idea off for days now. The hope in him was exciting to a point, but when he thought about the situation, eventually it tapered off into fear.

It had taken days to talk himself into calling. It was days before he was mentally prepared enough to speak with his parents.

So five minutes later found him seated on his sofa, legs tucked underneath him as the ringing tone sounded in his ear.

His mother’s voice, when she answered the phone, was as brittle as ever.

When Luhan had been little, his parents had truthfully scared him. He saw his father very little, and his mother was as little motherly and nurturing as possible. When either of them spoke to him it was always with sharp words, clear intent, and a lack of patience. As a child he’d been unsure of how to handle the clinical and impersonal way his parents treated him. And from that had come fear.

It hadn’t gone away, apparently, now that he was an adult.

He said simply, “I got your letter.”

Her voice crawled across the receiver, “You made it very difficult to contact you.”

“I didn’t think you’d have any interest in talking to me after the way we ended things last time,” Luhan snapped back.

“Such disrespect,” she replied. “Have you lost what little honor you once had, in that heathen filled land?”

Luhan rolled his eyes, stretching his legs out on the sofa. “Why did you want to speak to me, mother? Are you going to try and convince me to give up my foolish ways and come home?”

There was a pause on the other line and Luhan almost thought for a second that she’d hung up. Then she finally said, “You must come home, Han.”

There was something odd in her tone. And it was worrying.

“Something is wrong,” he guessed.

“Your father,” she said. “His health is not well. Han, come home son.”

Luhan nearly lost his grip on the phone as he shot upright, demanding, “What’s wrong with father? Is he ill?”

She said right away, “He collapsed at work two weeks ago. He suffered a heart attack.”

No. That seemed impossible to Luhan. Every single memory he had tied to his father was one of a strong, immovable force of virility. His father was tall and broad shouldered, and while he suffered from high blood pressure, he’d always otherwise been the picture of health. Luhan couldn’t remember a day in his life when his father had been ill.

“Is he okay? He had a heart attack!”

His mother said, “He is not well. You are his son. You must come home to see him.”

Stiff with fear, Luhan demanded, “What do you mean he isn’t well? How sick is he?”

The silence that followed made Luhan shake with terror.

“Is he going to recover?” Luhan asked finally.

Luhan’s father had always been well, but Luhan also knew that his father was quite old. The fact that both of his parents were much older than that of his friends, had always led Luhan to believe that he hadn’t been a planned or particularly wanted child. Maybe his parents hadn’t expected children at all. So the more he thought about it with his father pushing seventy, a heart attack was possible.

Then his mother said, “You should come home quickly. Give him the honor he deserves as your father.”

Luhan drew in a sharp breath. “I’m going to book a flight tonight. I’ll be there are soon as I can.” When the baby inside him gave a reminder of a kick, Luhan paused. What would be worse? Telling his mother now, in spite of the heavy news at hand, or simply showing up with a belly on display?

“I will book one for you, Han,” she said, and her tone was absolutely authoritative in its finality. “Unblock your e-mail. I will forward the information to you.”

“Mother,” Luhan said quietly, voice wavering. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“It can wait,” she said a bit harshly. “Your father takes priority.”

The thing was, Luhan didn’t think his daughter could wait.

“I haven’t only remained in Korea because of what you deem my rebellious selfishness,” Luhan said anyway, desperately still trying to even out his breathing. “There is one other, very important reason.”

“Which is?”

It was better to just let it out as quickly as possible, Luhan reasoned. Like ripping off a band aid.

“I’m pregnant.”

Once more, the line was silent.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Luhan said, suddenly feeling as if he had to defend either himself or his child. “There was alcohol involved, so yes, I was irresponsible. But I’m being responsible now. I’m taking care of myself and my child, I’m making good choice, and no matter what you think of this news, I’m going to put my child before anything else, including your approval.”

When she did speak again, her voice was even odder than it had been earlier. And the tone made Luhan nearly sweat with anxiousness. She asked him, “Have you married the man you allowed to get you pregnant?”

Once more, Luhan’s tolerance was pushed. “His name is Oh Sehun. We’re not married, mother, but we are both responsibly handling the situation. He’s going to be supportive and he’s already proven himself several times over.”

“Then you’re not married?”

Luhan sighed. “No. We’re not married. We’re not even in love.” Whatever feelings Luhan might be having for Sehun were impossible to be classified as love. Mostly. Maybe.

Instead of the lecture that Luhan had anticipated, instead she said, “I will forward you the information for you flight. Come home.”

The sound of the call ending was as rough and stale as the conversation that had just been held.

Luhan loved his parents. But he loved them in the way that he thought they loved him, with a sense of familial obligation. Never the less, Luhan hearing about his father’s failing health had weakened him, and all he could think about was getting back to China and seeing his father one last time.

The only person Luhan could think to call, his fingers barely still enough to find the contact number in the cell phone’s address book, was his best friend.

Xiumin had, against what seemed like all odds, shown up at the picnic that Luhan and Sehun had hosted for their friends. He’d come with a tense look on his face and a mumbled apology to Luhan, but he’d still come.

And he’d remained by Luhan’s side for most of the function, being perfectly polite to Sehun’s friends, and portraying the belief that absolutely nothing was wrong. If Luhan hadn’t been the one who’d been kissed, he would have thought everything was fine between them.

Afterwards, when people had begun dispersing and Luhan was willing to call the get together a success, Xiumin said lowly to Luhan, “You know things can’t go back to exactly the way they were before, right?”

Luhan had only nodded.

But then Xiumin had added, “That doesn’t change, however, the fact that you’re my best friend, and that is my niece in there.”

It seemed like so much more needed to be said, but also that just enough had been.

For years more Luhan predicted that he and Xiumin would be on shaky ground, forever stuck on the kiss that had been shared between them, regardless of the outcome.

Still, less than twenty minutes after calling him, Xiumin was in his apartment, hugging him tightly promising, “If you dad is half as stubborn as you are, you’ll have more than enough time to make it.”

With the TV playing in the background like white noise, the two of them ordered takeout, piled blanketed up on the sofa and crowded together, reminding Luhan of their days in the university when they’d bonded so deeply and so easily.

“Is it stupid I’m scared to go home?” Luhan asked, chopsticks swirling around a bowl of black noodles.

Xiumin asked, “Do you really consider it your home? Still? You’ve been in Korea years now.”

“I think it’ll always be my home in some way,” Luhan said. “And that’s not a bad thing. I plan on having my baby here, raising her here, and helping her embrace the fact that she’s half Korean. But I don’t want her to lose her Chinese heritage, either. But Xiumin, I’m terrified to go home. It took so much to get away from there and be on my own.”

Xiumin hooked an easy arm around Luhan’s shoulders. “You are on your own. You’re just going back to visit. You’re a grown man, Luhan. They can’t control you anymore. I mean, you’re about to become a father. I think you can control your own destiny now.”

Luhan’s shoulder shrugged and his hand holding the chopsticks stilled. “Maybe I’m just scared to go see my father before he dies. There’s plenty of love lost between myself and my father. He, even more than my mother, resented the fact that I didn’t want to take after him in the family business. I think he always expected I’d want to get up in the morning, put on a suit, work ten hours a day, and concentrate on being powerful and rich. That’s what he wanted for himself and he couldn’t understand why I didn’t want it. All that aside, he’s still my father. When he dies, part of me will die with him.”

And more importantly, his daughter would never know her grandfather. She’d never get to ride on his shoulders like Luhan had so many years ago, or even just know him. She’d have to settle for what Luhan could tell her. It just wasn’t going to be the same.

“Have you gotten your flight information yet?” Xiumin asked.

Luhan reached for his phone and tossed it into Xiumin’s lap. “My mother booked me a flight immediately. She sent me the information about five minutes ago. I leave tomorrow morning.”

Xiumin whistled out, “First class. Nice.”

“Maybe it’s because I told her I’m pregnant.”

“You did what?” Xiumin asked, eyes wide. “Seriously?”

Luhan nodded. “Lay said I should, and I was starting to think that even before I heard about my father. I told her flat out, and honestly she took it better than I expected.”

Stretching out, Xiumin said, “At least that’s one less thing for you to worry about. Did she book a return flight for you?”

“No,” Luhan said, finally taking a bite of the noodles. “I’m not sure how long I’ll have to stay. It’ll be a few days at least, and no more than a week. Will you come get me when I get back into Korea?”

“Of course,” Xiumin said, giving him a hard look. “You just let me know when. I’ll be there at the airport whenever you need me.”

Luhan quickly took another bite of noodles to avoid having to say anything. In another world, or under different circumstances, Luhan would have been glad to love Xiumin as more than a brother and friend.

When Luhan told Sehun the news later that night he as met with sympathy and then the offer, “Do you want me to come with you?”

Luhan had never once stopped to consider that Sehun might want to come with him back to China. “Can you?”

With a dejected sound, Sehun said, “Probably not. I’m sorry. I’ve got a deadline coming up at work and I still need to do a lot for it. Are you going to be okay to travel on your own? Is it safe for you and the baby?”

“I checked with my doctor,” Luhan assured. “I’m okay. And I won’t be there long. No more than a week, then I’ll come right back. You have my word.”

“I believe you,” Sehun said evenly. “Will you let me take you to the airport tomorrow?”

That sounded great to Luhan, who’d been prepared to call for a car in the morning.

“Pick me up at seven?”

Saying goodbye to Sehun at the airport ended up being a million times harder than Luhan had ever imagined. He hugged Sehun tightly and said, “I’ll miss you, Sehun. Take care of yourself while I’m gone.”

Sehun clutched him tightly, their baby between them, and said back, “You take care of yourself. Protect our baby. Don’t stay on your feet too long. Don’t let your mom bully you or make you feel sad. And if it’s bad over there and you don’t want to handle it, get a flight back early and I’ll come get you.”

“I promise,” Luhan said.

Then he kept absolutely still as Sehun his stomach affectionately and said, “You be good for you father, little one. He’s going to deal with something difficult, so prove me right by being a good girl and not causing trouble.” It was such an amazing thing to hear from Sehun that Luhan could feel his eyes watering almost immediately.

“She’ll be a good girl,” Luhan said confidently.

“I love you,” Sehun said, head bowed, and for just half a second, Luhan could imagine it wasn’t the baby Sehun was speaking to.

When the announcement for his flight came up, Luhan pulled away from Sehun and said, “That’s me. Please, I mean it, Sehun, take care of yourself and stay healthy while I’m away. When I get back we’ll catch up.”

“Call me,” Sehun said, catching him before he could head to his departure gate. “When you get to China, call me so I know you’re okay.”

“I will,” Luhan said. “I have to go, Sehun.”

Luhan gave Sehun a long, deliberate wave, then headed towards the airplane that would take him back to China.

The flight, at the very least, was smooth. As thoughts of Sehun and their baby, and then Luhan’s father, consumed him, he could relax in his comfortable, spacious seat and prepare himself for what as coming.

Stepping foot back on Chinese soil after almost five years was overwhelming. The constant chatter of Chinese around him, the familiar smells in the air, and the atmosphere that greeted Luhan was something that gave him strength immediately. And as he strode forward, his suitcase rolling behind him, he was finally confidentenough to believe that he could meet whatever was coming towards him with grace, dignity, and strength.

He spotted his mother easily enough just a few seconds later, dressed so severely from head to toe in black that Luhan feared that he’d been too late. Had his father already passed?

He saw her eye his stomach with distain but he refused to give her even the barest of reactions.

However, she lost his attention the second Luhan spotted the man standing just to her right, tall and handsome and reeking of familiarity.

“Xiao Lu,” the man greeted, a large smile looking brazen next to Luhan’s mother’s frown. “You’ve stayed away too long.”

Luhan came to a stop as his eyes raked over the man’s face, wondering how in just five years his old acquaintance had gone from a relatively thin, clever but smart mouthed high school student, to such a handsome, strong looking, posh gentleman.

“Wei,” Luhan said, bowing his head a bit. “What are you doing here?”

Luhan’s mother made a quick, sharp gesture for him to follow her, and soon enough Wei, Luhan’s onetime friend, was pulling his suitcase for him. They made quick time through the airport, and made it quickly outside.

“What are you doing here?” Luhan asked once more, confused and suddenly disoriented. The last time he’d seen Wu Guanwei the teen had been set to go off to college in America before returning to become his father’s protégé. Wei had kissed him right before their parting, certainly not asking Luhan to wait for him, but wanting something longterm.

“I’ll explain everything when we get to your house,” Wei said, handing Luhan’s suitcase off to their driver once the car was in sight.

Luhan maneuvered himself into the car as quickly as he could, asking, “The house? Shouldn’t we go to the hospital?”

It was Wei then who looked confused, eyebrows bunched together. “For what? Do you not feel well?”

In an instant Luhan knew something was terribly, terribly wrong. It was a feeling that had settled into the heaviest part of his stomach and was making him feel slightly light headed.

Luhan looked sharply to his mother. “You lied."

Wei closed the door behind him, the driver starting the car, and Luhan knew he’d made a grave mistake.

“I did what was necessary,” his mother said, slipping sunglasses over her eyes as she looked away. “I brought you home the only way I knew how.”

Luhan clutched his stomach protectively and hunched over it a bit. He didn’t know what was going on, or how his mother could have lied to him about something so severe, but he did understand that he was in trouble. He was back in China now, in a place where he had next to no power, and he was now at the mercy of his parents.

Worse, he had his baby to think of, and to protect, and thoughts of her being in danger made him want to panic.

He was in trouble. He was in desperate trouble, and he had no idea how he was going to escape it.