My parents got on my ing nerves. Maybe that wasn’t a nice sentiment to cherish towards the people who had given me life, but it was true. Our opinions differed on almost every issue; we fought constantly about important and trivial issues.

It was enough to drive a girl crazy.

“Do you think Haru will hate me when she’s older?” I turned to my husband, who looked at me helplessly, his mouth falling open.

“I…doubt it? Just don’t be a .”

“Don’t say it like I’m normally a !”

He raised his eyebrows. “Well, if the shoes fits.”

I smacked him and he burst into laughter, then kissed the tip of my nose when I pouted.

“But really, why are you asking me this?” Jimin nudged my shoulder. “Did your mom talk to you recently or something?”

I sighed. “Yeah. They want me to have Sun Jae christened in their church.”

“Isn’t it a little late now? He’s already past the newborn stage.”

“I don’t know, apparently his soul is in mortal danger or something.”

Jimin frowned. “Do they really believe that?”

“I don’t know,” I said listlessly. “I don’t care.”

My mom cared, though. My mom cared a lot. An obnoxiously annoying amount, which resulted in several phone calls placed to me every day until I finally had to answer, even though I was in the middle of writing.

“Bug, just come and do this for me, hmm? Just do it for your mother.”

“Mom, no. We’re really busy right now.”

“You’re always busy.”

“We’re extra busy.”

“Bug.”

Jimin came up behind me and rubbed my shoulders, which helped ease some of the tension I’d been holding in.

“Mom, we’re not doing it. I don’t want to.”

My mother heaved a long-suffering sigh. “How did I raise such an ungrateful child?”

“You didn’t. Grandma and Grandpa raised me.”

Jimin tsked and gave me a little pinch on my side. “That’s not nice.”

My mom obviously agreed with him, as she sniffled and took a very long time to say anything else. I felt kinda bad making her cry because I was a big softie, but this didn’t stop her from being a huge control freak.

“Fine. Do whatever you want.”

She hung up and I tossed my phone onto my desk.

Jimin tactfully declined to say anything as I slumped back in my chair. Instead, he kissed my upside-down forehead and smiled at me. I groaned.

“I know I’m gonna end up doing it, but I really, really don’t want to.”

“Just make your mom happy, hmm?”

“Why should I? She’s done almost everything she could to stand in the way of my happiness.”

It was true. She had always disliked Jimin and insulted him (behind his back and to his face) every chance she could get. Hell, she and my father had hired me a divorce lawyer when Jimin and I were going through our “rough patch,” as he so fondly referred to it. They had set me up on a blind date without my knowledge or consent. And they had never once supported my dreams.

I’d long since gotten used to being the black sheep of my family, but I’d never gotten used to my mother’s constant criticisms of my entire being. She hated our wealthy lifestyle (although I felt we lived well below our means), the way we chose to raise our children, our professions, even the way we dressed and the types of food we ate. She also, inexplicably, hated my curly hair. She’d constantly brushed it out when I was a child and told me it was “unruly and messy. Unsuitable for a girl, and always a rat’s nest.” I had to wear a braid until I was fifteen and lived with my grandparents. I’d been rebellious and chopped it all off, sporting a short, trendy hairstyle.

“She’s still your mom.”

“Jimin, you don’t understand. You have like the greatest parents on the planet. And yeah, okay, my parents aren’t the worst, but that doesn’t mean that I need to bend over backwards to try and please them. I’m not five and being sent off to live with my grandparents.”

He smoothed my hair back from my forehead. “Sorry, baby. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I’m gonna do it,” I said grudgingly. “I’m just not gonna be happy about it.”

I was true to my word. Two days later (my mother had already scheduled the ceremony and invited all of her friends and my huge, ultraconservative extended family before I’d even agreed. Typical.), we were standing outside the church from my teenage years, surrounded by people who disapproved of us.

And, oddly, Jungkook was with us. He was actually holding Sun Jae, who was dressed in the stupidest long white gown trimmed with white lace. He even had a little white bonnet with lace edging. He hated it as much as I did and kept trying to take it off and howling in frustration when he couldn’t.

Haru held Jimin’s hand and fidgeted impatiently, looking as bored as I felt.

“Mama, when are we leavin’? I’m huuuungry.”

“No manners,” my mother tsked as she came up and whisked Sun Jae out of Jungkook’s arms. He jumped about three feet in the air out of surprise and my mother looked disdainfully at him, then her heel and walked away without another word.

“Your mother is terrifying,” Jungkook whispered to me once she was out of earshot.

“She’s in rare form today,” Jimin agreed.

“She’s pissed because I said I didn’t believe in any of this. And because I said my grandparents had raised me and not her.”

Jimin patted my shoulder. “It’ll all be over soon, love. And hey, at least you get to see your grandmother, right? And your siblings.”

“I could do without seeing some of them,” I muttered darkly. “But I am excited to see Nana.”

Haru gasped. “Nana’s here?! Nana! NANA!”

My seventy-five year old grandmother walked over, still strong on her legs, and engulfed Haru in a warm hug.

“How is my great-grandbaby? My darling Haru, you look more like your mother with each passing day.”

I snorted. What a lie. Haru had my curls, but everything else about her appearance came from Jimin. She acted like me for the most part, but could be so sweet like Jimin.

When we were thinking of getting a divorce, he’d admitted to me that he’d never be able to forget me because Haru was just like me, but I’d thought the same thing.

Sun Jae was a person unto himself, unlike either of us with his ever present smile (Jimin, amazingly, could be cranky when a camera wasn’t watching his every move) and docile personality. He was so chill; sometimes I forgot about him. Isn’t that terrible?

Although it was kinda great sometimes.

Once my Nana released Haru, Jimin excitedly pulled her into a hug.

“Please,” Nana laughed, tapping him on the arm. “You’re going to break my brittle bones with a hug that tight.”

“Nana, you don’t have brittle bones! You’re as spritely as ever.”

She kissed Jimin’s cheek. “You’re too skinny! Do you even eat?” She cast a sly glance at me. “I know my granddaughter isn’t feeding you.”

“I don’t let her cook, Nana. I don’t wanna get poisoned.”

“Still,” she patted his stomach, then ran her fingers along his defined jawline, “you’re too skinny. You should eat more.”

“He doesn’t eat, Nan. He just dances,” I interjected.

Jimin shot me a look. Recently, it had been a point of contention between us. He was preparing for BTS’s comeback and needed to diet, apparently. This happened every comeback and every comeback we fought about it.

Nana noticed the brief tension between the two of us and subtly steered the conversation in a different direction.

“So...” she turned to me, “your mother is awfully tense today.”

“Right?! She’s insane. She just yelled at the priest and said the christening water wasn’t clean enough. Do you even need water for a christening? Isn’t that, like, a baptism or something?”

Nana rolled her eyes at me. “One would think that you hadn’t grown up attending church. You had a christening ceremony as an infant.”

I shrugged as Jimin snickered. “What can I say, Nan? I’ve shunned these ways in favor of new ones.”

“Never forget your roots, darling.”

“I wish they would forget me,” I muttered darkly as Sun Jae squalled in my mother’s arms. She scolded him (a baby) and passed him off to my father, who looked completely nonplussed.

Sometimes, they could pass for normal, and other times they were just weird.

“Where’s Kookie?” Jimin threw his arms around my waist and placed a sloppy kiss on my cheek. “I haven’t seen him.”

“He’s over there, chatting up my sister Daisy.”

Jimin laughed. “God, doesn’t he know that Daisy’s married with like, a billion kids?”

“Jungkook is only friendly to women he knows won’t be ually attracted to him.”

“Kookie’s not an unfriendly person,” Jimin demurred. “He’s just…shy.”

“If by shy, you mean intimidating and taciturn, then yes, you’d be correct.”

Jimin snorted and ruffled my hair. “My darling love, that is the exact impression you make when you are shy around new people. Give Jungkook a break. Not everyone is out there looking for love. He’s happy the way he is.”

“Why is he here, by the way? He just kinda showed up this morning and I was so frazzled by this,” I gestured in the vague direction of my mother and the priest, “that I didn’t even ask.”

“I asked him to be godfather.”

A tense silence settled between us. I could hear the impatient chattering of the crowd, the ceremony delayed by my mother’s bickering with the priest, but it was background noise. My eyebrows furrowed and I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Jimin stared defiantly back at me, chin stubbornly jutting out.

“Are you seriously going to make an issue out of this?” he asked, his tone clipped.

“I didn’t say a word.”

“The look on your face says it all!”

I held up my hands in surrender. “Jimin, I’m not arguing with you. I was just…taken aback for a moment, that’s all. Okay? Jungkook will make a wonderful godfather to Sun Jae.”

“Better than Jin,” he muttered under his breath.

“Can you just drop it?” I hissed. “Jesus Christ, Jimin, I wasn’t asking you to make Jin godfather!”

My mother chose that moment, the moment I was taking the Lord’s name in vain, to swing by with my son and look utterly scandalized.

She opened to say something, but Jimin took me by the elbow and steered me away to avoid a confrontation.

He let out a short, frustrated sigh through his nose and ran a hand through his hair. What was his problem? I hadn’t even brought up the subject of Sun Jae’s godfather since the one time we’d discussed it. It wasn’t an issue; I wasn’t trying to make an issue out of it. So why did he look so tense?

“What’s your deal, Jimin? Why are you so cranky?”

Jimin took a deep breath and looked me squarely in the eye. “I want Jungkook to be Haru’s godfather, too.”

Oh. Well, I hadn’t expected that. Was that even possible? Did we have to have a special ceremony for that, too? Renaming of the Godfather?

“Is that a thing?”

Jimin shrugged. “I don’t know. Even if it’s just in my head, I want you to be on board with it. Jungkook is Haru’s godfather. And Sun Jae’s.”

He tensed as I leaned forward, but I simply straightened his tie and looked up at him with a little smile.

“Sure, Jimin. Whatever makes you happy.”

His quizzical expression wasn’t flattering to my peacekeeping skills, but I kissed his cheek and he relaxed into a smile.

“Yeah? Alright, cool. I thought we were gonna argue about this.”

I held up one hand solemnly. “I’ve made it my mission to never fight with you about Jin again.”

Jimin laughed and wound his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. “Oh yeah? I like the sound of that. What kind of things are we gonna argue about instead?”

He leaned in and touched his forehead to mine, brown eyes warm and loving.

“Who loves the other one more,” I whispered, unable to keep the grin off of my face.

“Oh, that’s an easy one. I love you more.”

“No, I love you most.”

“I love you to infinity,” Jimin murmured, kissing the corner of my mouth.

“I love you forever,” I replied, kissing him.

“I love wanting to die,” Jungkook snapped from behind us. “We’re at a church, for goodness’ sake. Stop making out!”

The priest turned his head in our direction and Jimin hastily broke away, a flush rapidly rising on his cheeks.

“We’re ready to start, if you two are,” the priest said primly, his own cheeks turning red.

“,” I said under my breath. Jimin nudged me and I cursed again, louder, as his elbow hit my ribs.

The priest cleared his throat and looked disapprovingly at me, as did my mother, standing behind him and carrying Sun Jae.

See? This is why I left the church. No grace for sinners.

Sun Jae hated every single second of his christening. It would have been bearable to me if I thought my son was eschewing this particular organized religion from infancy, but I knew it was because he was hungry. Unfortunately, my s also knew it and had started to lactate. The priest spoke horribly slowly and the whole thing was only halfway done. I had thought that these ceremonies weren’t that long because, hello, babies, but I’d been mistaken.

I tugged on Jimin’s sleeve. He stood in front of me, mostly blocking my s from view by the rest of the congregation, but I could see Ji Eun’s alarmed eyebrows in the audience and knew the damage to my shirt had been done.

“Jimin,” I whispered as quietly as I could.

He brushed my hand away without looking back.

“Jimin, I’m lactating.”

“Oh, .” He spun around, effectively ruining any semblance of secrecy and drawing everyone’s attention to us. I could hear my mother sigh from her spot in the front pew.

God, everyone was staring at us. This was truly horrible, worse than the time I was in seventh grade and I got my first period during math class and bled all over the seat.

Well…maybe not worse than that, but possibly equally as horrible.

The priest had stopped his eternal droning and was looking disapprovingly at us, yet again. Jimin motioned for him to keep going, then slipped out of his suit jacket and helped me into it. I caught a whiff of his shampoo as he bent forward to button the jacket and a rush of gratitude overwhelmed me. Thank God I had a sweet husband to get me out of a public bodily fluid incident this time. Seventh grade me would have appreciated him as a boyfriend.

I snorted as I pictured a twelve-year old Jimin dealing with his girlfriend’s first period. Jimin glanced up at me with amused brown eyes, but shook his head slightly.

“If you laugh, I’m gonna laugh,” he said under his breath. “And this is a serious occasion.”

Another giggle escaped me as I remembered the first time Jimin slept over and I got my period in the night. At that point in my life, I was too lazy to track my periods or remember to take my birth control every day (hello, accidental pregnancy with Haru), so I hadn’t worn any period protection to bed. Jimin shook me awake that morning, mumbling in a half-asleep and worried fashion about how the bed was bleeding. I was so embarrassed I cried and Jimin ran out of the apartment half-dressed and came back half an hour later, inexplicably laden down with cartons of eggs.

“My mom always eats eggs,” he explained in a flustered rush. “She said it’s good to eat eggs when you’re losing an egg.”

Recalling his flushed face and earnest expression as he told me that absolutely ridiculous idea while carrying five cartons of eggs, I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Jimin stared at me, as if wishing the situation wasn’t real, then looked at me in his suit jacket, giggling helplessly, and joined in on my laughter.

The two of us clung to each other as everyone, including the priest (and my mother), stared at us in befuddlement.

Then, our sweet baby boy started to laugh. He always joined in when Jimin started to laugh (Jimin had such an infectious laugh), but it was so nice to hear his giggle instead of his scream. I stepped away from Jimin, who had to catch himself in the midst of a particularly hard laugh, and took Sun Jae out of the priest’s arms. He laughed and reached out for me, his eyes disappearing into a smile the way his father’s did.

“Sorry, baby,” I apologized with a kiss. “Mama interrupted your christening. Let’s finish now, hmm?”

The disgruntled priest took him back from me and finished the ceremony in a hurry, probably wanting to get our crazy giggling family out of his church as fast as possible.

“You guys are embarrassing,” Jungkook said under his breath as he passed us on the podium, ready to be sworn in as Sun Jae’s godfather (or whatever they did at christenings).

“We’re the best,” Jimin said. He slung an arm around my shoulder and kissed my cheek, his soft laughter tickling my ear.

We were, weren’t we? Just the best couple to have ever existed.

“You’re actually the worst,” Jungkook snapped as Jimin and I once again dissolved into helpless laughter. “The absolute ing worst.”

“You’re like the worst mom ever,” Ji Eun told me at the after-party. It was at my parents’ house, a place I hadn’t been with Ji Eun since we had graduated college. “Ruining your son’s christening.”

“In my defense, my body was just answering his calls for food.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t need to giggle so much about it,” Sul chimed in, giggling a little herself. “Your mom was furious.”

“I know,” I replied happily. “I love seeing her get mad about things.”

“That’s mean,” Jimin said, coming up behind me and carrying two plates of food. He handed one to me and I munched happily. “What if Haru said that about you at her kid’s christening?”

“Haru and I don’t have that kind of relationship where I would do anything to justify her scorn. Also, now is not the time to start being my mom’s knight in shining armor. You’re my knight in shining armor and you always have to be on my side.”

“Yeah?” Jimin smiled, looking so fond. He kissed my forehead and I caught the faintest scent of his Jo Malone cologne.

I associated the Jo Malone cologne with Adult Jimin, but the smell of AXE body spray always brought me back to our younger years.

“You smell good.” I leaned in to his neck and took another whiff. “You smell really good.”

Jimin beamed and shrugged his shoulders. “I just showered and put on cologne. The usual.”

“You know, Jimin, I never figured out why you married someone like her,” Ji Eun jabbed a finger in my direction, “when you love getting complimented. She’s not the type to compliment someone very often.”

He laughed. “Right? I don’t know, either. I guess she makes me feel complimented enough just by loving me.”

I playfully swatted his arm. “Ay, don’t you think too highly of me? What’s the point of respecting my opinion so much?”

Jimin draped his arm around me and nuzzled against my hair. “Say, this isn’t the kind of thing we can get drunk at, is it?”

“Nah, boy. You know my mom. She’d skin you alive and tell herself she was doing the Lord’s work. Cause she hates you, you know.”

Jimin clicked his tongue against his teeth. “You know, most people would love to have an idol star as their son-in-law. I feel like my contributions to your family’s general fame and fortune are overlooked.”

Ji Eun snorted. “Your idol career is not at all appreciated by this family, Jimin. Seriously, why did you marry this little sunshine girl?”

“ off, Ji Eun! Stop trying to convince my husband he made a mistake.”

“Jimin,” Sul reached over and tugged on his arm. “Jimin, I brought a flask if you want some.”

“Hell yes, sweet Sul. I would love some of that flask,” Jimin replied in a fervent whisper.

“Praise God from whom all blessings flow,” Ji Eun sang. My mother looked up from across the room and smiled in approval. Jimin balked at her gaze and almost dropped the flask onto the floor.

“Jimin, you nerd,” I hissed at him. “Get yourself together.”

His cheeks flushed red in the most adorable fashion. “I can’t help it! I don’t want to get yelled at.”

Jimin plopped into my lap and leaned his head against my shoulder. “Ji Eun’s right; you don’t compliment me enough. Pet my hair and tell me I’m pretty.”

God, could he get any cuter? I felt actual physical pain in my heart when he gazed sultrily at me from beneath fluttering eyelashes. And when he pouted his lips? I died a little on the inside.

I kissed his forehead and whispered to him. “You’re lovely. You’re so, so pretty.”

Jimin let his eyes fall shut; I kissed his eyelashes. “Pet my hair.”

I threaded my fingers through his thick, coarse hair. It always looked like it would be softer to the touch, but years of constant dye had given it a different texture. I liked the way it felt beneath my fingertips, liked the color he’d dyed it. He made a small sound of pleasure and pushed his head against my hand, leaning into my touch as I drew my hand down to cup his cheek.

He was so pretty and I loved him with my whole heart.

I loved him even more when he carried our sleepy baby girl on his back to the car later that night, singing her his special lullaby. I loved him the most when he took our baby boy from Jungkook’s arms and kissed his forehead, a moment so tender and sweet and commonplace. Wasn’t I lucky to be married to a man who loved our children so well?

Remember that time he left for weeks without notice after Sun Jae was born? A quiet voice in my head reminded me. Remember that time he took Haru after a particularly bad fight and left you alone while you were pregnant? Remember all of those times you asked him to stay and he left you for his career?

I studied Jimin as he gingerly buckled Sun Jae into his car seat, making sure to tuck his favorite stuffed giraffe next to him. Sun Jae smiled widely at his father, shrieking happily when Jimin smiled back.

Did it matter anymore? He was here now.

Jimin closed the car door and turned to me. His smile was radiant, if a little tired.

“Ready to go, baby? You look sleepy.”

“I am.”

He came closer and pulled me into a hug. “You did well today. I know it was hard for you, but you did well.”

Damn, he really did smell amazing tonight. So amazing that I wished we were at home and alone.

Jungkook coughed awkwardly in the background. “Your mom is crazy, sunshine. I understand you better now.”

“I think that’s a thinly veiled insult,” I murmured into Jimin’s neck.

“You’re amazing, baby, don’t listen to him.”

“At least my dad loves me.”

“And I love you! That’s the most important love.”

I grunted. “Yeah. Why does my relationship with my parents have to be so complicated? Why can’t we just get along?”

“I hope we’re not like that with Haru and Sun Jae,” Jimin said worriedly.

I counted the moles on his neck and then kissed each one. “You won’t be. You’re a great dad, Chim.”

Jimin tightened his grip around my waist and kissed my temple. “Thank you, my love.”

JIMIN’S POV

My wife fell asleep on the way home, squished in between the two car seats in the back seat. Jungkook sat in the passenger seat. He had his shoes off and his feet tucked up under his legs. I thought he would fall asleep at any moment, but since it was a long drive home and I wanted some company, I tried to engage him in conversation.

“Kookie, do you want kids?”

He snuffled sleepily and rubbed his eyes. “Jeez, Jimin. What a question to ask on this, the day of your son’s christening.”

“My wife would die if she heard you crappily misquoting The Godfather. But seriously, do you want kids?”

“I don’t know, Jimin. Do you like having kids?”

“Yeah, .”

Jungkook shifted in his seat so his head rested on the window. I’d seen Jungkook fall asleep in that exact position many a time throughout the years.

“Jimin, man, I love you, but not everyone wants what you have.”

“I wasn’t asking if you wanted what I have. I asked if you wanted kids.”

He sighed heavily. “Jimin, that’s literally what you have. And, I don’t know. Maybe later.”

“Later?”

“Yeah, like when I’m not an idol anymore.”

“So...like when you’re thirty-five and you’ve already had your second unsuccessful comeback after your military service?”

Jungkook tsked. “Don’t be a jerk. And yes. After everything because I don’t want to have to choose between my career and my family.”

I went quiet for a moment. “Like me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, but it’s true. No one wants to end up like me. Married and a father at the height of my career. It’s hard.”

Jungkook turned his head to look at my sleeping wife. “Think it’s hardest on your wife.”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t have to be that way for you. You could be with someone in the industry, someone who understands your lifestyle. Someone who would be fine with having kids later in life.”

“Or I could just, you know, be single.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s probably nice to get out there and meet a lot of new people.”

Jungkook pursed his lips. “Jimin, not everyone is looking to be with someone else. I’m not lonely. I just want to take my time and focus on myself.”

“Okay.”

I let the subject drop, not wanting to trigger Jungkook’s defenses more than I already had. He had been touchy about relationships recently. He’d always been tight-lipped about his dating life, but would at least let us know if he was dating anyone. I knew he had been with a girl for a little while, but he hadn’t told me when they ended things.

Jungkook had seemed depressed recently and I didn’t think it had to do anything with his dating life. I didn’t know how to bring it up with him. Throughout the years, all of us had either talked through our problems and tried to work them out together or hid them so well that no one noticed. It’s possible to hide troubling behaviors well enough so that people feel uncomfortable bringing them up, even while living so closely like we did. Jungkook had gone through some things in his young life and I didn’t want him to suffer anymore.

I knew it had been hard for him to watch Jin and I fight with each other. I knew he missed the friendship the three of us shared, and the good relationship we all had as members. But I hoped he understood that I needed to distance myself for the sake of my health, and the good of my family.

It had put a strain on our friendship. Although Jungkook claimed he didn’t want to take sides, I knew he felt sorry for Seokjin.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. Jungkook had fallen fast asleep, mouth open and head resting on the window. I’d let him stay over for the night.

It was late when we arrived back at the apartment. Jungkook carried Haru up the stairs while I tried to gently lift Sun Jae from his carseat without waking him. It was tricky, but I succeeded and tucked him safely in his crib. My wife was still asleep in the car, so I left Jungkook to his own devices and went to wake her.

The night was cold, too cold for the end of March. I could see my breath as I trudged down the front steps to the car.

My wife had moved in her sleep so that her head rested on the arm of Haru’s carseat. Carefully cradling her head, I gathered her in my arms and tried not to wake her. She snuffled in her sleep, then slowly blinked open her eyes.

“Jimin?”

I hummed. She snuggled sleepily into my shirt and placed a soft kiss on my chest.

“Thanks for dealing with my ty family today,” she mumbled into my coat. “Sorry they hate you.”

“Actually, your mom was pretty nice to me today. She told me after I’d had most of Sul’s flask that I was a good dad and I laughed in her face.”

My wife giggled sleepily. “You drunkard.” She paused for a moment. “That was nice of her, though. She’s not usually a nice person.”

“I think you’re too hard on your mom.”

She sighed and burrowed her face deeper into my coat. I could barely make out the words that she whispered next.

“You wouldn’t understand. Your mom never said you were too hard to raise and left you with other people. Twice. I wasn’t that hard to raise, Jimin! And they had so many kids; why’d they pick me to give away? What did I do that was so horrible that my own mother didn’t want to raise me?”

I snuggled her close to me and gave her a squeeze. “Your mom loves you. In her own misguided, hurtful way, she loves you.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she said in a whisper. “I’m glad I made a family with you. You’re the only person I trusted enough.”

We’d reached the door of our apartment. A little golden sun hung on the door, the apartment number scrawled beneath it in black lettering. I always liked that decoration, always liked coming home to my sunshiney little family and opening the door to our homey yellow living room.

“Jimin,” she said to me as we stood at the threshold of our home. The way I carried her now reminded me of the time I’d carried her across the threshold of our very first apartment the day we moved in. So much time had passed since then.

“Yes, my love?”

She didn’t answer. I glanced down at her to find her staring up at me with a thoughtful look on her face.

“What’s up, baby? I left Jungkook inside with the kids. He’s probably having a hard time.”

She smiled and caressed my cheek with her fingertips. “Nothin’. Just glad you stuck around.”

“You’re my home,” I told her. “Where else would I go?”

.......................................................................................................

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