~*~

The sheer smell of the cinnamon incense mixed with the house perfume that littered the air, they unnerved me.

My face has now been glued on the sink, and I felt bad for dirtying such glorious Italian marble. But my vomit has now successfully taken over the brand new bathroom. What a waste. Newly modeled, never used, freshly cleaned, only to be baptized by practically my whole intestine. Since we arrived in this new apartment villa in Gal-do, Gangnam, I had done nothing but manifest my pregnancy in the form of disgusting vomit.

Kwon Jiyong, who had been watching me all this time, finally held my back to comfort me. As if his touch would make me feel better. I was beyond comfort, because this was my worst nausea yet. He continued to pat my back, aiding my puke. He said, "You're scaring me. I think we should see a doctor."

"This is normal morning sickness," I answered in between coughing, shaking my head. I finally parted with the sink and washed my mouth. "Well... night sickness... Don't worry about me."

Finally. Peace. Quiet. Health and vigor. I have vomited all I could, and like he knew me very well, Jiyong handed me a toothbrush that was prefilled with toothpaste, and the mouthwash came with it. Wow, that's one heck of a medicine cabinet. I had been too busy puking that I failed to marvel at the elegance of this place. With regret, I cleaned up my mouth and decided to appreciate the beauty of the house later.

"If you want to take a shower, I'll bring you some clean clothes. Feel free to use anything here in our house."

Our house. Kwon Jiyong was the least ready to stop impressing me. In less than a week, he settled my contract termination, talked and apologized to my family, attended the press conference, proposed to me, and moved me to a house we'd live in together. Has he always had this home ready for his married life? Probably. Maybe he bought this for Kiko.

It bothered me to find out that we'd be cohabitants for the next months. But it didn't surprise me anymore. Another discovery I had in the last week that our lives collided was that Kwon Jiyong was a man of concrete plans. There was a plan for the engagement party in two days. There was a plan for the Apology Project for Sones, VIPs and the general public. There was a plan for the wedding in ten days. There was a plan for our house. There was a plan for my health. There was a plan for everything.

"I'll schedule a doctor's appointment tomorrow. Your mother said you're comfortable with your aunt, so we will keep her as your obstetrician," he said from outside the bathroom. I wiped my face and stared at myself in the mirror.

I didn't recognize who I saw. Who are you? What did you do to Kim Taeyeon, who was just on a concert last week? Who just wrapped up an album promotion two weeks ago? Who was patiently waiting for Park Jungsu a month ago? The only person I saw in that reflection was Kim Taeyeon, nine-weeks pregnant, sick and unhealthy, trusting her life to a man she has only met and talked to once before. Who are you?

I was beginning to feel sad again, so I decided to wash myself with the intention of cleansing my mind and soul. It had been an extremely long and agonizing week for me. Though I wanted to soak myself under the bathtub for long, I still did not feel that comfortable in this place. So after a quick bath, I finally stepped out of the shower room to dress up in the walk-in closet. He did bring me clean clothes, and even though they were the last I'd pick myself, I was too tired to be choosy at this point. When dressed up, I stepped out of the bedroom bath. That's when I finally discovered the glory of this place. This place is amazing. The bedroom, the kitchen, the dining room, and the living room. God, the living room.

"Is your stomach still hurting?" he asked, coming from the entrance hall, pulling my luggages behind him.

"No," I lied.

It was still hurting. Now that my body has stopped forcing my insides out, the muscular pain I felt in my abdomen crawled back in. Jiyong noticed my tension in the car, and I let slip that my abdomen was badly hurting.

"That's good. I'll put all your things in your bedroom for now. Jiwoong said he and your dad will bring all your other necessary things this weekend," he said, entering the bedroom I just came from. So I have a room of my own? Good.

If I was going to live here, a lot of packing needed to be done. Wait. When did I agree to this? I didn't remember ever saying I would live here, but somehow, my clothes and stuff were prepacked for me. It was apparent that my parents already decided on this, even before I accepted Jiyong's proposal. But instead of being angry that everything had been decided for me by Jiyong and my parents, I only worried for the uncomfortable pain on my stomach. I found myself settling on the living room couch, holding my belly to ease the discomfort.

"If we're getting married in ten days, we have to start planning the wedding, so that's priority 1," Jiyong said, coming out of the bedroom. I straightened my face, because I didn't want him to learn of my discomfort. "Once the wedding details are sorted out, we can start the Apology Project led by Jinu and Sean hyungs. Last priority will be the packing of your stuff and moving them here."

Again, everything had been planned. Kwon Jiyong never wasted time. I heard him approach me in the living room, crossing his arms and towering before me. I tried my best to act as if I was pain-free, and I knew I was doing a bad job at it. But my shock at what he was now wearing temporarily made me worry less about my aching belly. He had removed his jacket and polo now, so that he was only wearing a plain white tee, a pair of jogging pants, and just socks. He looked... casual.

"Don't you worry about anything at all. Your family, my family and I will plan everything. All you need to do is rest and relax," he declared, sitting on the couch just adjacent to the long sofa that I sat on. "With all things said and done, the conference went well, didn't it?"

"Define well," I answered bluntly, breathing deeply to manage the aching in my stomach.

Well? Of course it did not go well! Not only did 3000 Sones cry out on the spot, about 500 VIPs also marched to the scene once they got wind of G-dragon's appearance in the event, and all of them griped at the announcements! How could it be deemed well when literally 95% of the entertainment media content related to me and G-dragon, with the press and the fans digging about our "past," and making incidences and coincidences seem as if they were connected? I never even realized my world and G-dragon's worlds ever met, but somehow, the media and the netizens were able to connect the dots so that they appeared to have been colliding all this time. Lucky for us, the forced "collisions" supported our lies. Instagram. Interviews. Songs. Broadcast appearances. Even Jung Hyungdon. Nothing was well! That press conference became such a scandal that my mere appearance before the public would result to VIPs attacking me left and right. Sones were disappointed, VIPs hated me, and the public... God the public... if they persecuted me yesterday, today they voted for Jiyong's lethal injection sentence. They weren't forgiving, contrary to what we wanted them to be. Maybe of me, but not of him. While I dwelled about every single thing that did not go well today, my belly was gripped finely, causing me to wail a little inside.

"What part of it went well, Jiyong? Tell me, because as far as I know, it made things worse," I told him straightforwardly, my insistent abdominal pains causing my volatile temperament.

"The public's not hating you that much anymore. So you can relax now," he casually answered, seemingly not bothered about the bad press about him.

"Because they're talking about you now, as if everything's your fault!" I exclaimed. The last headline I read from my phone was a stupid article theorizing how Kwon Jiyong possibly "" me. The lies and sensationalism in the media angered me so much, probably also aiding my physical discomfort. Did I eat anything that caused me this much pain?

"I'd much rather have that. I'm immune to the public's judgement. Meanwhile, you need not bother with what the public or the media is saying. Let them spend their efforts hating me now. You're the victim, you're the mother, so just worry about your own and our child's health."

Yeah right. I forgot I was talking to the king of all scandals, the king who had brushed up with the law multiple times, and had survived them all by a thin thread. I still couldn't believe that the same celebrity who was almost jailed three years ago for drug abuse was taking responsibility for my life, and the little life blossoming in me. I also asked, who are you? What have you done to the scandalous bad boy G-dragon?

"Is there anything else you need?"

You mean besides a house, a car, your black credit card, a personal assistant, and a personal driver?

"Nothing else. Th-thank you," was all I answered, still trying my best to keep a straight face amidst the irritating sensation in my stomach.

There were much too many things I needed that even the generous and rich G-dragon couldn't give -- Jungsu's forgiveness, the public's forgiveness, a peaceful and scandal-free life, SNSD, my old life. It was foolish to even ask for those.

"You're still in pain, aren't you?" he then asked, and I now realized my face had been crooked with pain all this time. There was no point lying or acting like the abdominal pains didn't exist.

"I don't know why it's painful. It's like... it's churning, and I c-can't breathe," I answered honestly, my face breaking into such a pained expression.

"Do you... w-want to go to the doctor now?" he asked, sitting up from the small couch and coming to my aid. He kneeled in front of me, and up close, I saw his scared expression.

"I don't know. I don't know if we should panic. It's probably just... s-stress," I said, my teeth gritted, because I worried that he was worrying too much.

"We can't risk it. Let's just... let's go. Give me a minute," he said, standing up from the ground.

"Don't panic, Jiyong. It's going to pass," I called out after him when I saw that he entered the bedroom beside mine.

"We're going to the doctor," he shouted from the inside. "You almost had a miscarriage, so I can't not panic."

He then peeped from his bedroom door, and he was now putting on his polo again. "I'm just going to dress up. Relax there, okay?"

It was already too late to stop him, because he already closed the door of his room. Meanwhile, I was getting more uncomfortable with the abdominal grips that was constantly punishing me. I found myself curled up on the couch, holding my stomach, trying to lessen the pain with constant movements. But it stayed there, chronically, cruelly.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

I looked up, surprised at such an unexpected visitor. It was already past seven, and my whole family was already on their way back to Jeonju.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

The door rang again, and only then did I realize it wasn't the doorbell. It was the door's alarm system. Whoever was outside was trying to get in, only to enter the incorrect passcode.

From his bedroom’s bathroom, he shouted, "It's umma. Can you please open it? She doesn't know the new pass code yet."

So Kwon umma was coming, probably to bring us dinner. I felt a great relief in her presence, because if I was going to be rushed in the crowded Seoul Medical City, I didn't want the spectacle to just be about me and Jiyong.

Like always, I did as he commanded. But when I opened the door, it wasn't his mother that was visiting. I felt sorry that the visitor saw me here in Jiyong's house, wearing a sleeping gown, pregnant and very SNSD, fresh from the press conference that confirmed Taeyeon's pregnancy with G-dragon's child.

Just how do you greet the girlfriend who just broke up with the father of your child because of you?

We might have been looking at each other for a long while now, and I only realized we'd just been staring in each other's shocked faces. She was wearing Juicy Couture baby pink sweats, the hoodie fully cloaking her head. And as if fated, just when I opened the door, she already removed her sunglasses, revealing her bare face. Her make-up free and wet face. The presence of moist, her red and puffy eyes, they all told a story. A story I knew quite well. She looked down, breaking our eyes' bond, then she crouched down to pick up the chain of keys that fell when my presence caught her off guard. That's when I noticed the luggage that stood behind him. She had a huge travel Prada luggage with her. All the pieces came together, and the story was laid out to me clearly.

She came here to stay.

"Hi," I greeted softly.

But her head stayed low. When she finally picked up her keys, she put them inside the beautiful Louis Vuitton tote she was carrying. Then, she held on her luggage and slowly bowed at me, still avoiding my eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I'll just... g-go," was all as said, turning her back and pulling her Prada luggage with her.

"Kiko wait!" I called out loudly, feeling ashamed at my presumptuous attempt to call her by her first name. Her name is Kiko, right? Mizuhara Kiko? And she understands Korean, correct? Clearly she did, because she stopped just as I shouted for her. But she didn't look back.

"Jiyong's here. Just... come in. I'm sure he'd want to talk to you," I suggested, feeling more foolish by the second at my next attempt to act as if I knew what was going on.

Obviously, I didn't. I was stuck in a fairy tale workd where there was no awkward encounters like this, because I surely expected her to stay. She didn't. Instead, she pulled her luggage again and walked away. All without saying a word, nor looking at me, let alone grunting or maybe nodding a little to show any acknowledgement. Mizuhara Kiko walked away amidst my invitations.

"Hey, wait!" I begged again, even following her to the elevator.

She entered the elevator and hurried to close it. When I reached it, I saw that she wore her sunglasses again. But just as we became face-to-face, with the elevator door separating us, it closed on us, leaving me feeling beaten. She didn't want to stay, because I was there. I decided that there was no point following her, because I would just expose myself to the other tenants of this apartment building. The last thing Jiyong and I wanted was the media or the fans discovering this well-kept unit.

As I walked back to Jiyong's house, I felt beaten up, and the guilt was crawling its way up to eat me. The stomach pain was suddenly replaced by another kind of discomfort. I just announced to the whole world my wedding next week with Mizuhara Kiko's boyfriend. I realized that maybe, just maybe, that woman loathed me with every bone in her body. And there I was, begging to invite her for a cup of coffee.

"Where's mom? Where'd you go?" Jiyong asked me the moment I entered the house. He was already dressed up. When he saw the look on my face, he then added, "Was it the fans? . They just won't let this go, would they? That's it! We really should move to your hometown while you're pregnant. !"

It dawned on me that Jiyong panicked in the littlest trigger too. If I was hormonal, he was over-reacting to everything that concerned me and my pregnancy. But I ignored his unnecessary rants about sasaengs, because Kiko's crying face was stamped in my mind.

"What's wrong? Let's just wait for the stalkers to clear the area, then we'd leave for the doctor," he told me, holding my arms on both sides.

I looked up to him, and his face, as well as Kiko's face, they were juxtaposed in my consciousness. I felt responsible for creating a heartbreaking rift between Kwon Jiyong and his well-kept four-year girlfriend.

"It was Kiko," I admitted in a soft voice.

"What?"

"Kiko was here. When she saw me... she left..."

Slowly, he let go of my arms, and I saw how his face was suddenly covered in another kind of fear.

"I'm sorry that she saw me here," I told him, because I was positive I was the reason she couldn't stay. "I didn't mean--"

"," was all he muttered before walking out of that door.

He left me alone with my guilt-ridden self. Of course, the girlfriend was priority over my medical emergency. I understood. If he had forgotten that we needed to go to the doctor for my chronic abdominal pain, he had every right and reason to do so.

I was stuck momentarily on that space between the living room and the dining table, wallowing on what just happened. Seeing Mizuhara Kiko on the flesh confirmed to me that the public persecution, my departure from SNSD, my breakup with Park Jungsu, those weren't the only issues at hand. I'd been forgetting that there was one woman who probably hurt the most from all the scandals. Unlike Jungsu and I, Jiyong and Kiko were very much together when everything exploded. If she hated me, she had every right to. I had been swimming in those thoughts when I felt someone touch my two arms again.

"Don't wait up for me," Jiyong said. He came back. "I forbid you to browse the Internet. And don't forget to take your bedtime supplements after dinner, okay?"

It took me a moment to realize this was reality. This was actually happening. Jiyong came back, and didn't just forget about me. If he had, I wouldn't have taken it against him. I slowly nodded at him, and he began to rant about where the medicines where, how to operate the fridge, where the food pantry was, how to use the automated phone, even set the table and prepared the food for me, etcete