“Ready?”

Xiumin’s sister, the only doctor Luhan would have fully trusted with his pregnancy, rolled her chair slightly from the ultrasound machine to where Luhan was lying on the examination table. In her hand she had a tube of gel, and on her face was a hopeful expression.

“Any way to get that stuff warmed up before it actually gets on my skin?” Luhan asked, a smile stretching across his face. He turned almost instinctively for Xiumin who was across the room, scrolling something on his phone. He called out, “Hey, best friend, could you maybe try to look excited that you’re going to find out if you’re getting a niece or nephew?”

Looking a little started, Xiumin asked, “Already?”

His sister rolled her eyes and helped Luhan inch up his shirt a bit more. “You’re hopeless, Minseok.”

Xiumin rolled his eyes at her use of his actual name, and not the more familiar moniker that Luhan called him by. “Sorry. Work’s bugging me.”

Luhan tried his best to relax, and hid a wince as the cold ultrasound gel hit his warm skin. “You didn’t have to come, you know. I could have come by myself. I know things are really picking up for you at work.”

Xiumin shook his head, moving to Luhan’s side. “I wanted to come, I told you. Work isn’t more important than this.”

There was little Luhan could do to convey to Xiumin how much he appreciated having Xiumin support him. At least nothing he hadn’t already told his best friend. Xiumin had never wavered from the moment he’d found out there was going to be a baby, and had already made mention his desire for honorable uncle duty. He was committed to throwing Luhan his baby shower, and making sure Luhan knew that he’d always have friends, even if he didn’t have support elsewhere.

Luhan said, watching Xiumin’s sister press the ultrasound wand against his distended stomach, “Next time I’ll get Suho to come.”

Xiumin made a face as his sister asked, “Who’s Suho?” Luhan could hear the question she really wanted to ask. She suspected Suho was the baby’s other father.

“He’s .. complicated?” Xiumin answered for Luhan, but clearly wasn’t sure.

With a nod, Luhan explained, “I guess you could say he’s indirectly tied to this baby? He’s my baby’s father’s brother-in-law.”

Her hand paused and she wondered, “How’d that all happen?”

“Long story,” Luhan sighed. And it was a personal one, one that Suho had probably told him with the intent that he not share it around. It wouldn’t matter that Xiumin’s sister would never know who Sehun was, it was important to Luhan as a man of honor that he didn’t say anything on the subject. So instead he told his doctor, “I guess he cares about the baby, at least more than the actual father does, and I believe him when he says he wants to be involved. He offered to come with me to my doctors visits.”

“I think we should pass on some stranger bringing you here,” Xiumin said. Then his eyes were widening and he asked, “Oh my god, is that the baby?”

Luhan’s eyes tore over to the screen and he felt them burn almost immediately with tears waiting to be shed.

There was his baby. There was his perfect, wonderful, amazing baby.

“He’s so big,” Luhan said, wanting to reach out and touch the monitor. “Much bigger than before.” Now, with the decent picture appearing before them, Luhan could clearly make out the head, two legs, arms, and maybe even a side profile. It would be a while longer before they could have a better, 3-D ultrasound, but for now what they had was enough. It was more than enough.

“That’s amazing,” Xiumin said, mouth agape. It served to remind Luhan that this was the first time Xiumin was seeing the baby in a live picture. Xiumin had an ultrasound picture of Luhan’s baby proudly tacked up on his refrigerator, but he hadn’t been with Luhan the last time he’d come for an ultrasound.

Moving the wand around for a better picture, Xiumin’s sister asked Luhan, “Have you been feeling the baby move more frequently now?”

Luhan blinked furiously against the tears in his eyes as he realized he could see his baby’s fingers. “I am,” he said, voice a little rough. “He’s moving around a lot more, and other people can finally feel him. I was starting to think it was just gas I was feeling, at last until a couple weeks ago.”

Xiumin nodded in confirmation. “He’s a pretty active kid already. I can’t imagine how he’s going to be when he starts to walk.”

“She,” Luhan’s doctor told him. “This is most definitely a girl.”

Luhan’s feet, which had been hanging off the table and jiggling almost nervously, stilled immediately. “Are you sure?” he asked, not daring to say more.

At a nod, Luhan looked back to the monitor.

A girl. His baby was a girl. He was having a little girl.

“A niece,” Xiumin said with delight. “I’m going to have a niece. Luhan, you’re having a girl!”

“She’s perfect,” Luhan said, feeling her shift around inside him, the movements echoed on the picture. “Oh, she’s so perfect.”

Luhan thought it was something of a dream how he was feeling. He’d gone from initially being wary of the life he was carrying, maybe even a little resentful, to how he was now, utterly in love with her. She wasn’t even born yet, and she was his whole world.

He couldn’t wait to tell Sehun they were having a girl. With any luck the news would bring him around a bit more.

Luhan dared to hope that he was making progress with Sehun, even if it was just a little bit at a time. After all, Sehun hadn’t blocked his e-mails yet, and he even responded to some of them.

A girl.

Would Sehun want a girl? Would Sehun---

Luhan felt anxiety spike through him.

Sehun would … Suho had said …

All of the sudden Luhan could think of nothing but the moment Suho had told him Sehun’s baby had been a girl. Sehun had almost had a daughter. She’d died just weeks before her projected birth. And hadn’t Suho said how much he hoped Luhan’s baby was a boy?

There was absolutely no way Sehun was going to be happy that the baby was a girl. There was no way Sehun wasn’t going to look at the baby he’d made with Luhan and think of his dead daughter. This baby being a girl wasn’t going to help Sehun come to terms with anything, and it was probably going to make Sehun even more difficult to deal with.

Luhan was so damn happy it was a girl, but the implication of what it meant for Sehun being a father figure was … not good.

“Luhan?” Xiumin asked, sounding uncertain. “Are you okay?”

“It’s really a girl??” Luhan had to ask again. “You’re absolutely, positively sure?”

Xiumin’s sister laughed. “Trust me, I’m positive. Your baby isn’t packing anything down below, if you catch my drift. I’m getting a pretty good angle on her right now. I’m confident. This is a girl.”

Luhan wondered how he was going to tell Sehun that the baby was a girl.

“Pictures?” his doctor asked, tapping on a few keys.

“Pictures,” Luhan agreed, feeling a little numb.

Fifteen minutes later he was dressed in his regular clothes, holding a stack of ultrasound pictures, and waiting for the doctor to give him the all clear. Xiumin had left the room early to grab the car and bring it around front for him, despite how firmly Luhan had told him he wasn’t that much of an invalid. Yet.

“You’ve been taking it easy?” she asked him, flipping through his chart quickly. “Remember I told you about keeping your stress levels in check, eating right, and getting about an hour of light exercise in every day?”

Her words were almost enough to distract Luhan from the thought that he was having a daughter. “I am … is something wrong?”

She made a face, then eased out, “I thought your numbers might be a tick odd before, and they haven’t changed since then.”

“What kind of numbers?” Luhan felt icy fear grip him. “Is something wrong with my baby? Is this about the possible gestational diabetes?”

“Luhan,” she said gently, setting his chart to the side. “You’re not in any danger, I promise you. If I was overly concerned I would share those concerns with you right away, and we’d implement a plan of action. I still don’t like what I’m seeing as far as what might happen in the future, but it hasn’t happened yet, so we’re going to keep monitoring you closely, and I want you to keep doing what I advised you to.”

“Okay,” Luhan said, not trusting his legs to hold him up if he slid off the bed. “You promise you’ll tell me right away if she’d in danger?”

“Swear,” she smiled at him, and it was less forced this time. “Keep eating right. Get that exercise. And painting, which is something you’re amazing at by the way, is a great way to relieve stress. Keep it up and we’ll check your numbers again the next time you come in.” She nudged him playfully. “Now get going. My brother must be out front by now.”

Slowly Luhan put his feet down, then added his weight. It was something he’d taken for granted before, just being able to jump up and go. His center of gravity was absolutely wrecked now and he absolutely had to take his time, or risk serious vertigo.

Luhan told her seriously, “I think Xiumin is going to be the best uncle ever.”

She said back, “I have no doubt about that.”

It was absolutely sweltering outside the hospital, and humid to boot. The hospital earlier had seemed too cold, but now Luhan wanted to turn around and go back inside. His apartment had central heating, something that was desperately necessary in the winter, but no air conditioning to speak of. Already Luhan had spent most of the summer holed up in the coffee shop bellow, which was infinitely cooler and filled with fans.

Thankfully Xiumin had the car’s air conditioner on full blast when Luhan got in.

“That was something, wasn’t it?” Xiumin asked almost right away, a stupid kind of smile on his face that Luhan could relate to. “A daughter, Luhan. You’re have a daughter.”

Luhan pressed a hand to his stomach, wondering why all the sudden a simple gender reveal made his baby feel even more real. There was a girl inside him, which was something so wonderful to think about. He was having a daughter.

“I guess I better start thinking of girl names,” Luhan admitted. “I was pretty sure I was having a boy, actually. Tao said I was carrying low.”

Xiumin gave him a quick look of disbelief. “Tao is studying to be a physical therapist. How is that a qualification to determine what someone’s baby’s gender might be. And from just looking, too.”

“I think he meant it in good fun,” Luhan chuckled.

Xiumin shrugged. “Well, now we can tell him that he was wrong. It’s going to be a girl.” Xiumin paused to ease out, “You are happy you’re having a girl, right? Or did you want a boy?”

Luhan said, completely honest, “I wanted either, Xiumin. Either was fine by me. I just want my baby to be healthy.”

Making a pleased sound, Xiumin said, “But a girl is wonderful.”

“Yeah,” Luhan said, his face almost hurting from how wide he was smiling, “a girl is very nice.”

Before they got very far into traffic Xiumin asked, “Do you want me to take you home, or are you up for going out for a little bit?”

As they paused at a red light Luhan thought of the ultrasound pictures in his hand and his promise to e-mail Sehun. If he went home he’d have no excuse not to let Sehun know it was going to be a girl. He’d have to. But if he went out …

“I think we should celebrate,” Luhan said, forcing a smile. “I’m having a girl. That’s cause for celebration.”

Xiumin flashed him a thumbs up. “That’s just what I was thinking.”

He’d have to go home eventually, Luhan realized. He’d have to face reality and write the dreaded e-mail. But going out with Xiumin was a valid excuse not to be at home at the moment, and it was one he was going to take.

Luhan dug out his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll call around. I get the feeling some other people are going to want to celebrate with us.”

“I’m still her number one uncle,” Xiumin reminded, a teasing tone to his voice. “You know that, right?”

Luhan’s thumb scrolled over to Lay’s name and he assured, “Don’t worry, Xiumin. You’re going to be her first and best uncle. No worries there.”

It turned out that Kris was caught up at work the entire day, but both Tao and Lay were more than happy to meet them for a late lunch, and even beat Xiumin and Luhan to the agreed upon restaurant.

“Come on, come on,” Tao demanded, shifting restlessly in his seat once the four of them were there. “Let’s see those pictures.”

Luhan spread them out on the table in front o them and said almost proudly, “It’s definitely a girl.”

Tao breathed out, “That’s so cool.” Tao touched the nearest picture almost reverently. “And now you know what color to do the nursery.”

The nursery was something Luhan hadn’t even begun to think about, but he’d have to get on it sooner, rather than later. The apartment he lived in, while small, did have two bedrooms. Up until now Luhan had used the second of the two as a storage area, and he was going to need some help to get it cleared out.

And that was all before he even started on a nursery that he had no idea about.

Well, almost no idea about. He told Tao, “I’m not painting the nursery pink.”

Tao frowned. “Why not?”

“Because things are little more progressive now,” Luhan said. “Girls don’t have to be associated with pink, or boys with blue. Anyway, I was thinking of a themed nursery, rather than just a color.”

Xiumin who was still looking the menu over, commented in a distracted way, “You could even paint it yourself.”

Luhan nodded. “If it happens in the next few months. I’m not supposed to be in an enclosed space with paint fumes in my third trimester.”

They ordered their food shortly after that, and were still gushing over Luhan’s nursery when Lay leaned over and asked him softly, “Are you going to tell your parents soon?’

Luhan hadn’t thought of his parents in a while.

He’d broken contact with them months ago, even before he’d known he was pregnant. And they’d parted on such a sour note that Luhan knew any kind of reconciliation would take him likely going all the way back to China and groveling at their feet. He’d have to admit he’d been wrong, too. But he hadn’t. He wasn’t. And that wasn’t going to happen.

“No.”

Lay reminded, almost dutifully, “You’re their only child, Luhahn. You’re having their only grandchild. You don’t think they deserve to know?”

Luhan was not the pious and honorable son that Lay was. He wasn’t going to get on his knees before his parents and beg for their forgiveness, nor for their approval. And if that meant he didn’t get to see them again, or they didn’t get to see their granddaughter, that was simply a reality Luhan would have to live with. He was a man now, a grown man with a family on the way. He couldn’t do more than hope for the best with them.

“I think,” Luhan corrected, “that I deserve some things, Lay. I deserve to have my parents accept me for exactly who I am, regardless if it’s the person they want me to be. I deserve consideration from them, and trust, and I deserve the right to live my own life how I choose.” Luhan nudged him slightly under the table, satisfied that Tao and Xiumin were still properly distracted. “I love my parents, Lay, but I don’t love them more than I love the person I am, or the person I’m going to be. I don’t love them more than my daughter, and I don’t think that’s wrong.”

It was impossible to predict which way Lay would react. After all, he held duty and honor, especially to one’s parents, in a very high regard. Luhan knew that if Lay’s parents asked him to come home, or to stop whatever he was doing, there’d be no hesitation from him.

With a sigh, Lay said, “You should at least tell them. Even if nothing comes of it, or they don’t care, then you can say you did your best, and your shoulders can be free from the weight of guilt.”

Even Luhan had to admit, “Maybe you’re right.” He could write them. His mother’s secret passion was calligraphy, for which she used to practice her English. She’d impressed the hobby into Luhan from a young age, and maybe writing to her in that way would help ease the burden.

But then what would they likely say back to him? No doubt they’d express their dissatisfaction of his pregnancy out of wedlock. They’d most certainly urge him to consider adoption, or abortion, or tell him that his daughter was going to ruin his life.

The scariest part was that they might not even be happy with his baby being a girl.

“Luhan?” Xiumin asked, drawing his attention. “Are we ready to order?”

Luhan noticed there was a patient waiter standing by their table. “Yes. Sorry.”

They ordered beef. A lot of beef. In the name of a celebration, they ordered the kind of expensive beef that should have been for a dinner meal, and not a quick lunch between friends. But they ordered it all the same, refused to let Luhan pay for a cent of it, and raised their glasses in a toast to him and his baby.

Luhan was under no misconception that raising his baby alone, or with very little support from Sehun was going to be easy, but with his friends around him, he really felt like he could do it.

Afterward, Luhan headed back to his apartment, Xiumin in tow, and the others parted ways with the promise to see him soon.

“Are you really not going to tell your parents?” Xiumin asked as they entered the apartment.

“You heard that?” Luhan asked, surprised at first. But then Xiumin was always particularly good at looking like he wasn’t paying attention while actually listening carefully.

“Are you?”

Luhan set his keys to the side and toed off his shoes. Then he made the short trek to the living room and sat on the sofa, tucking a pillow behind his back for support. “I don’t want to, but I’ll probably write them. I just don’t see the point of it, even if Lay says it’s my duty as a son.”

Xiumin sat easily on the floor, crossing his legs in front of him. “If you don’t want to, then you shouldn’t. It’s not like they’re going to fly out here and offer their endless support to you, right?”

Luhan scoffed. “More like they’ll fly out here to tell me that I’ve shamed the family by getting pregnant from a one night stand at a bar.”

Over Xiumin’s shoulder Luhan could see the sky through the nearby window. It was summer, which mean the days were longer and the night took more time to come, but the sky was no longer the vibrant blue it had been. In a couple of hours it would be orange and pink, and then sundown would be upon them.

He had to send the email before that, even if it might mean causing a clean break between himself and Sehun.

“You look preoccupied with something,” Xiumin observed.

“I was thinking about Sehun.”

Xiumin’s face scrunched in a scowl. “I wish you wouldn’t. There’s nothing about a man who is cowardly in the face of fatherhood, to think about.”

“Except he is my baby’s father.” Luhan sighed and tried to sink further into the sofa. “I promised him I’d send him an e-mail update about the doctor’s appointment. I guess I should do that now.”

“Why?” Xiumin asked. “Didn’t that make it clear he wanted nothing to do with you or her?”

Luhan looked down at the her in question.

It was true to Luhan that the idea of Sehun not wanting their daughter was crazy. It was ludicrous, really, because she’d never done anything to deserve to be scorned or unwanted. She was the innocent party, and a miracle baby at that. If Sehun’s problem had been with Luhan, at least that would have been bearable and understandable. But for Sehun to deny their daughter? It was something that was starting to creep under his skin once more.

For Suho, who’d lost and been through unimaginable pain, and come to Luhan with such humility, Luhan had done his best to try with Sehun. But the months were passing quickly, the baby was growing, and before long Luhan knew he’d have her in his arms. Was he still supposed to try with Sehun then? Was he supposed to spend his whole life trying to convince Sehun to be a part of her life? How was that fair to anyone?

“I made a promise,” Luhan replied a bit weakly. “But it’s probably the last e-mail I’ll send him. If he doesn’t want anything to do with our daughter, that’s his choice. I won’t force him, and I won’t contact him. I won’t ask anything of him.”

“You won’t need to,” Xiumin swore. “You have the rest of us to pick up the slack there, and I promise you, we won’t let you down.”

Luhan tried to look as positive as possible. “You lot are going to spoil her, aren’t you?”

“Pretty much,” Xiumin laughed.

A feeling of being content was just started to creep its way back into Luhan’s chest when a sharp knock at the door sounded.

“Kris?” Luhan guessed. Maybe he’d heard about the fact that they’d bought an entire paycheck’s worth of beef and not invited him.

Xiumin got to his feet. “I’ll get it.”

From Luhan’s position on the sofa he couldn’t see who was at the door when Xiumin opened it, but he could most certainly hear, “Who the hell are you?”

“Excuse me?” Xiumin asked angrily, reeling back but continuing to block the door.

“Doesn’t Luhan live here?”

Luhan startled, recognizing the voice. He was up on his feet as quickly as he could manage, his growing stomach making it difficult, and he made his way to the door to stand behind Xiumin and remark, “What are you doing here?”

It was an incomprehensible thought that there was Sehun, standing on his doorstep, looking like he might dash forward at any second and attempt to blow past Xiumin. But if the way Xiumin was hunkering down a bit, it was going to be a tough thing if Sehun attempted it.

“You know this rude person?” Xiumin asked, not turning back to look at Luhan.

Xiumin didn’t know that this was Sehun, Luhan realized. Xiumin had never met Sehun, or seen a picture of any kind of him. Luhan had never even described him, too fearful that Tao would make good on his threats if he had a good idea of what Sehun looked like.

What was Sehun doing on his doorstep?

“Xiumin?” Luhan put a comforting hand on his shoulder, trying to urge him to the side. “This is Sehun.”

Luhan could feel Xiumin’s muscles tense up.

But before Luhan could ask anything of Sehun, it was Xiumin demanding, “What are you doing here? What business do you think you have here at all?”

Sehun’s handsome features were twisted in a second as he threw back, “Just who do you think you are? I have every right to be here. That’s my child.”

Luhan’s head was swimming. Xiumin was so angry, and Sehun was there, in the flesh, in a way Luhan hadn’t dared to hope for. Everything was out of control, the tension was making the air around them heavy, and Luhan felt himself wobble.

“It’s your baby now?” Xiumin shouted, not caring at all that Lay who lived under Luhan might hear, or anyone from the coffee shop if things escalated anymore. “You never wanted it before. Why would you think you can have it now?”

“Xiumin,” Luhan said, feeling faint. There was a heat rising through his body that was uncomfortable and borderline worrying.

“Get out of the way,” Sehun threatened. “Or I will make you. You have no business here.”

Immediately Xiumin responded, “Luhan is my best friend. And considering I’m going to be more of a father to your baby than you are, I have ever right to be here. Luhan, do you want me to get rid of this guy?”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try,” Sehun said, drawing himself up from the defensive slouch he’d been in. He looked primed for a fight.

At least until Luhan couldn’t see anything at all. Well, nothing but the room spinning around him. But by then his knees were unlocking, his legs were bowing out and he was going down hard.

Everything sounded a bit like it was underwater as rough hands caught him, demanding to know if he was okay, shaking him slightly.

“Stop shouting,” Luhan groaned out, pressing a hand to his forehead where a headache was thumping away. “Both of you.”

He cracked his eyesopen to see Xiumin’s face hovering above him worriedly, and Sehun’s frightened expression not too far away.

“Do you want me to call an ambulance?” Sehun asked shakily, his skin going pale. He was gripping his phone tightly in his hand, looking young and unsure and so very human. Not at all like the imposing and immovable rock Luhan had imagined him to be for months.

“I’m fine,” Luhan said, and already the world was settling into place. With his legs splayed out in front of him, Luhan put a heavy hand on his stomach and let himself lean more fully on Xiumin. “I just got dizzy for a second.”

Xiumin mumbled, “I’m sorry about yelling.”

Surprisingly enough, Sehun added, “I’m sorry, too.”

Luhan tapped Xiumin on the arm and requested, “Help me up?” Then slowly he was vertical again, his feet planted firmly on the ground.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sehun asked.

“I am,” Luhan assured, then turned and made his way back to the sofa. He settled in quickly, leaning back against its softness with appreciation, and called out, “Don’t the two of you just stand there.”

It was probably something of a miracle that thirty seconds later Luhan had Xiumin pressed in protectively at his side, while Sehun sat across from them in the armchair Kris occupied every time he came to visit.

“What are you doing here, Sehun?” Luhan asked him. He hadn’t thought anything short of a natural disaster could make Sehun willingly come see him.

Sehun’s glaze moved directly to Luhan’s stomach where it settled, making Luhan feel a little self-conscious. His doctor was certain his pregnancy was progressing at a normal rate, and she’d warned that his tall, thin form would make him look bigger than what was likely typical, but he’d never been more aware of his rounded middle than right now. Sehun’s eyes on his stomach was unnerving.

After some hesitation, Sehun said, “You said you’d e-mail me. Your appointment was at ten.”

Xiumin cut in angrily, “If you knew it was at ten, you could have been there. You chose not to, so I don’t really think Luhan was under any obligation to tell you anything.”

Luhan expected a fight of some kind, but almost sadly Sehun said, “No, I guess you’re right. I was just … worried.”

Luhan stared at him. Suho had claimed that Sehun was incomprehensively damaged. He’d said he believed that Sehun could recover eventually, but that it might take time. He’d believed, and imparted to Luhan, that patience and persistence was the key. Suho had been sure. And now Luhan thought for the first time he was seeing a hint of what had been said between the two of them.

But he didn’t dare to hope that this was Sehun coming around.

“I’m sorry,” Luhan said, “I haven’t been home until just now.” He forced a cheery look to his face. “But you didn’t have anything to worry about. Everything is perfectly fine.”

There was an abhorrent amount of awkward tension in the room between the three of them. It was suffocating, really, and distracting as well.

“You … ah …” Sehun tried almost adorably, “found out the gender? That’s what Suho said this appointment was for.”

On the nearby table was one of the ultrasound photos. Luhan wasn’t sure at all how well Ssehun would be able to tell what he was looking at if he was shown the photo. Luhan only knew that Sehun had come to see him, at his residence, because he’d been worried. He’d been worried about their baby. But all that worry might go the second Sehun found out the baby was a girl.

Luhan couldn’t let him know, not until the baby was a little older, and Sehun had more time to love her.

Luhan patted his stomach lovingly, ignoring the way his daughter kicked him savagely in the kidney. “I guess this baby just doesn’t want to let us know what it is. The doctor couldn’t tell. Sorry.”

Xiumin’s eyes narrowed at the comments, but to his credit he said nothing about Luhan’s lie. Curiosity had to be eating him up inside, but he gave none of the lie away, and if anything placed his hand deliberately over the nearby ultrasound photos, hiding them from view.

“There’s always next time,” Luhan added. “That’s in about three weeks. Maybe two. And hey, I was thinking anyway, it’s more fun not to know until the birth. I was thinking about just waiting. Unless … you really want to know?”

With an uncomfortable shake to the head, Sehun said, “It’s fine. That’s fine.”

There was more silence after that, more tension and more awkwardness.

“Xiumin,” Luhan said finally, gathering up a bit of courage. “Thank you so much for taking me to the doctor, and for being with me there, and for lunch afterwards. But I think Sehun and I need to talk now. It’s important that we communicate, right?”

Sehun straightened up a bit, but remained silent.

“Are you sure?” Xiumin asked quietly.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Xiumin said, reaching out to rub a warm hand against Luhan’s stomach. “I’ll see you two later.”

Xiumin had barely gotten through the front door before Sehun was turning accusing eyes on Luhan, asking, “Is that your boyfriend?”

Luhan frowned. “That’s my best friend. And if you want to start getting hostile with me, or making weird accusations that are none of your business, you can go too.”

Sehun grumbled, “He touches you too freely.”

“He cares about my baby,” Luhan said, wondering where Sehun’s words were coming from and why. “I’ve known Xiumin quite a while. He really is just my best friend.”

Letting out a long exhale, Sehun said, “Sorry.”

Luhan pursed his lips in thought, then asked, “How did you get my address?”

Sehun shot him back a knowing look. “How did you get my e-mail?”

“Suho,” Luhan said, and knew he’d answered his own question as well. But then, with more than a little trepidation, he was forced to mention, “You know that he told me, right? About …”

Gruffly Sehun snapped, “I know.”

Tapping a tempo against his stomach, Luhan offered, “He didn’t tell me to hurt you. He didn’t tell me intending to breech your privacy, either. He just told me because he wanted me to understand why you couldn’t accept this baby as yours, and why it hurt you so bad to even consider it. Which I do get now, Sehun. I do understand. I don’t like it and I don’t want to accept it, but I understand.”

“It’s hard,” Sehun said, refusing to meet Luhan’s gaze. “I can’t just talk about it, even though I know you want me to.”

“Then what do we do?” Luhan asked.

“I don’t know,” Sehun returned.

The paperwork was in the kitchen. The paperwork that Kris had talked Luhan into checking out. The paperwork that would relieve Sehun of his legal ties or responsibilities, was mere feet away.

“You really don’t want to be a father, do you?” Luhan inquired. “You don’t want this baby. You’re not capable of having it, are you?”

Sehun shifted forward, leaning towards Luhan, looking once more at his stomach before saying, “I’m still trying to get through the day without having these horrible thoughts of giving up. I’m still trying to pretend like I can keep going, even when I feel like I can’t I’m still trying to … to make it, Luhan. I’m trying to do this life thing, and it’s hard and I really hate it and I don’t want to be a father. I don’t think I can do it.”

“Not after losing your baby,” Luhan supplied.

“Not after losing my heart,” Sehun told him.

“Do you feel anything for this life we’ve created? Anything positive at all?”

Lips still white from the earlier incident, Sehun confessed, “When I didn’t hear from you, I got worried. I wondered if you were okay, if the baby was okay, and I cared. It’s not that I don’t care. I do. I just can’t feel.”

“Come here.” Luhan stood as quickly as he could and made the short trip to Sehun’s side. Without asking permission he reached for Sehun’s hand and dragged it up to his stomach. He felt Sehun trying to pull away but he held tight, pressing the man’s big hand to the underside of his belly where their daughter always seemed the most active.

“Luhan,” Sehun said, almost breathless.

“Wait for it.”

There. Luhan felt the jab on the inside, and he knew Sehun had felt in on the surface by the shocked expression on his face.

“It kicked,” Sehun said, eyes wide and shinning a bit.

“You felt it?” Luhan asked, gently pressing Sehun’s hand against his stomach with more pressure. “Yes?”

Sehun gave a wondrous, wordless nod.

Luhan felt hope spark in him. “See,” he told Sehun, letting himself grin. “You do still feel. It’s in you, no matter how hidden it might be. It’s there, Sehun. And this is our baby you’re feeling.”

Luhan was not prepared for the torrential downpour of tears that came from Sehun. But as Luhan held him, rubbing his back and cushioning their baby between them, Luhan couldn’t help but think it might be a good thing. They desperately needed something good. And no matter what it was progress.