JIMIN’S POV

One morning, I lay in bed next to my heavily snoozing wife, when Haru creaked open the door and poked her little curly head in.

“Daddy? Can I come in?”

“Of course.” I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and sat up. She walked hesitantly towards me until I opened my arms out to her. When she saw my smile, she ran towards me, tripping over her too-big Hello Kitty nightgown.

“Oof.” I let out a whoosh of air as she catapulted into my lap and laid her curly hair against my bare chest.

“Daddy…” Haru began, pushing her hair back from her face. It forever fell into her eyes, a raggedy little curly mop that always needed to be cut.

“Yes, daisy chain?” I stretched a hand out to my nightstand, blindly patting the surface until I found a barrette. Haru pouted as I pinned back her bangs, but I liked to be able to see her pretty face.

“Mama said she was gonna buy big pancakes.”

I kissed her forehead. “What are big pancakes?”

“The seafood kind.” Haru blinked up at me, then pinched my cheek. “The kind with squid in it.”

I pinched her cheek in turn. “I like that kind.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can I have ice cream?”

“Not right now.”

Haru’s lip jutted out in an intense pout. “But I want it.”

"No ice cream for breakfast.” I tickled under her chin, but she slapped my hand away.

“No!” She shrieked. I nervously glanced over at her sleeping mother, who had developed a furrow between her brow. “I want ice cream!”

“Haru!” I said sharply. “No ice cream for breakfast.”

She burst into tears. I sighed and patted her back as she turned to sob into my shoulder.

“I wan’ ice cream.” She mumbled miserably. “Daddy, I wan’ it.”

“It’s not good for you to eat ice cream in the morning.” I whispered to her. “It will make your tummy hurt.”

“My tummy wants to hurt.” She moaned.

“No, it doesn’t.” I hid a smile.

“Yes, it does, Daddy! Yes, it does. It does, Daddy, it does. It does.”

“Haru, your tummy hurts?” My wife asked sleepily. She turned towards us and stretched her arms out to Haru, who unlatched herself from my neck and crawled across the bed to her mother. She left a trail of snot in her wake, which I promptly wiped off on the bedsheets.

“It wants to hurt, Mama. It does.”

“Your tummy wants to hurt?” My wife repeated in dazed bewilderment. “I don’t understand.”

“Daddy says I can’t have ice cream.” Haru tattled, shooting a betrayed look at me.

“You can eat ice cream later, lovebug.” She kissed Haru’s head, pushing her curls back lovingly. “Okay? Mama bought the big pancakes.”

Haru perked up immediately. “The seafood kind? With squid in it?”

My wife laughed. “Yeah, baby. The seafood kind with squid in it.”

“I thought we were going to eat that for lunch.” I reminded her quietly. She turned to me with a soft smile, and I reached out to weave a curl of her hair in between my fingers.

“Lunch, breakfast. What’s the difference? Who cares, right, Haru?”

“Right!” Haru giggled delightedly.

Yukon struggled out from his spot underneath the bed and yipped at Haru. She hopped off of the bed and petted his head.

“Yuton, you want breakfast? Let’s go get some breakfast.” She spoke softly to him, a motherly smile on her face. It was the way she talked to her baby dolls, when she felt like playing with them.

The two partners in crime bounced out the door. I listened as they clambered down the hallway and into the kitchen. Haru liked to fill up Yukon’s bowl, but she always needed help.

“Yuton, you have to wait for food until Mama gets up. Let’s read a book.”

My wife burrowed into my shoulder with a yawn as Haru’s gentle voice made up a story as she turned the pages of a children’s book.

“Good morning.” She whispered, kissing my bicep.

“Good morning, birthday girl.” I whispered back.

She yawned once more, then sighed and wrapped her arms around me. “It’s my birthday today.”

“It is, baby. Twenty-nine years old.” I kissed the streaks of sunlight in her hair. “Congratulations.”

“I’m still young.” She said quietly, as if she were trying to convince herself.

“Yeah, you are. I don’t think we’ll be really old until we have wrinkly hands and liver spots and thin hair.”

“Mmm, you know what I mean.” She scooted closer to me; our thighs touched and I sighed in contended comfort. “I can still do crazy things and dress like a youth.”

I giggled. “Yeah, you can. Just find a cute crop top to go with your nursing bra.”

She pinched me and I yelped, pushing her hand away. A tiny pout decorated her face, increasing her normal cuteness factor. Dark freckles stood out against her tan skin; I leaned in closer for a better look, brushing curls out of the way.

Nose to nose, she dimpled at me and stole a quick kiss.

“I want another puppy for my birthday.” She grinned impishly and I fought against the urge to agree to anything she said.

“No.”

“Yeah.” She nodded cutely. “I do. I want one.”

“You sound like Haru.” I chastised with a smile.

“Well, you always give her what she wants.” She scrunched her nose at me. “Jimin, I want a puppy for my birthday.”

“I already got you a puppy for your birthday.”

“I want another.” She whined. “Get me a puppy, please?”

“No way.”

She pouted again, so I kissed her. She moved underneath me, humming softly as her fingers curled into my hair. Our kisses were slow and sweet, tasting faintly of morning breath.

“Kisses on my neck.” She whispered. “I want kisses on my neck.”

I happily obliged, moving slightly swollen lips down the expanse of her neck and collarbones. She released a soft sigh and tugged gently on my hair. I was getting really into it when her stomach growled and she burst into giggles. I shushed her, but she gazed up at me with mirthful eyes, laughter leaking from .

A faint pitter-patter of curious footsteps sounded down the hall, accompanied by a small, gentle knock on the frame of our bedroom door.

“What are you doing?” Haru’s eager question made me sigh and bury my face in my wife’s neck.

Yukon barked and hopped up onto our bed, my face and my wife’s. Haru laughed and climbed up next to him, peppering her mother’s stomach in kisses.

“Happy birfday, Mama!” Haru lisped. “Happy birfday!”

“Thank you, baby.” My wife picked Haru up and cradled her in her arms. Haru’s curly mop of hair rested against her cheek; my wife nuzzled her face into it with a contented expression.

“I made you a ca’d.” Haru told her proudly, a smug little smile on her face. She stretched out a hand to me and I took the cue, rummaging through my nightstand until I produced the card Haru and I had made together. “It has animals on it. And a buddafly.”

She handed it to her mother, who accepted it with genuine thankfulness. My wife loved homemade gifts from Haru. Said they made her heart melt with love.

“Did you put the stickers on yourself?” She asked quietly into Haru’s ear, sprinkling kisses in her hair and on her warm skin.

“Yeah! And stamps, Mama, look at the stamps.” Haru pointed at the construction paper. “Look at this one.”

“Oh, a butterfly!” She exclaimed. “That’s so pretty! Thank you, Haru.”

“You’re welcome.” Haru said shyly. She hid her face in her mother’s neck while I her hair.

My wife’s stomach growled against and Haru let out a low, crazy giggle.

“Mama’s tummy is makin’ a lot of noise.” She told me in a confidential manner, hand curling lazily around my thumb.

“We should feed her our special breakfast, right?” I stage-whispered back to her.

Haru’s head bobbed enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah!”

I loved our new kitchen. The bright yellow walls, the wooden table with the burgundy chairs, and our new shiny, stainless steel appliances. They helped me create some excellent meals, including the one we currently munched on.

“Daddy, you pancakes are yummy.” Haru complimented me with a full mouth.

“Yeah, they’re delicious.” My wife echoed, helping herself to another. She’d already eaten five, but I wasn’t about to stop her. “My favorite are the teddy bears ones. I don’t know why, but they taste better to me.”

A quiet knock sounded at the door. My wife glanced over at me in surprise.

“Are you expecting anyone?” She asked.

I wordlessly shook my head, then went to go answer the door.

“You’re not wearing a shirt!” She called after me.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re in your boxers, Jimin.” She snapped. “I’ll answer the door.”

“Baby, sit down and eat your birthday pancakes.” I threw her a wink over my shoulder as I lazily sauntered out of the kitchen. “And enjoy the view.” I smacked my and Haru giggled.

My wife sighed exasperatedly, but I glanced back to see her totally checking out my .

I opened the door and was surprised to find Seokjin waiting on the other side. He held a small wrapped gift in his hands.

“Hi.” He greeted me with a gentle smile. “Is your wife home?”

“Jinnie!” My wife yelled from the kitchen. “Come in to where I can see your beautiful face!”

Jin’s cheeks flushed and he glanced down at the parcel in his hands.

“Do you mind?” He mumbled at me, still staring sheepishly at his gift. “I know birthdays are special to you guys, but I’m going to be busy for the next few days, and I figured I’d drop it off before it was too late. I know she likes to get gifts on her actual birthday.”

“No, I don’t. Come in.” I stepped aside to let him pass by. A part of me felt annoyed, but Jin had always been a good and thoughtful friend to us.

I followed him into the kitchen, plopping down into my chair and moodily picking at my pancakes. I resented Jin’s interruption more when my wife opened his gift with such glee. I hadn’t even given her a present yet, and I was her husband. Who dropped off a birthday present during someone’s breakfast hour? Huh? What kind of inconsiderate person would do such a thing?

“Daddy, why you ripping up your pancake?” Haru whispered to me, concern for my mental health written all over her face. “That’s not a nice way to eat that.”

“I’m not hungry anymore.” I threw my fork down on the table in a huff. My wife took no notice of my tantrum, too wrapped up in reading the dustcover of the book Jin had given her.

“Jin, I can’t believe you got me this! I’ve been searching for this edition forever; how did you find it? How did you even know I wanted it?”

“You mentioned it to me a few times, remember? We talked about it for like a good half hour one night.” He sat across from her, his broad shoulders accented by the way he leaned forward to speak to her, elbows resting on his knees.

“Oh, yeah! Seriously, where did you find it?” She leaned forward eagerly and my heart lurched as Jin’s face grew red.

He leaned back, clearing his throat as his chair scraped the floor. “I-I found it online.”

“Which site did you use? I only know of a couple. Do you know…”

My attention wandered as my wife listed the names of websites she browsed. I was too focused on how Jin’s eyes followed the movement of her lips, how he his in response. How his eyes darted to hers nervously, how his teeth dragged over his lower lip. How he leaned in ever so slightly, fingers brushing away a stray lock of her hair.

I looked over at my wife chattering excitedly about books, completely oblivious to the way Jin was looking at her. How could she not notice? He was practically screaming his love with his eyes.

Maybe she’d just thought it was how he always looked.

It was how he’d always looked at her.

A sealed envelope fluttered out of the book as my wife thumbed through the pages. It landed lightly on the floor. I watched Jin’s expression as she gingerly picked it up and examined it.

“Is this for me? Looks too thick to be a card.”

“Yeah, it’s for you.” Jin sent me a not-so-subtle glance, a nervous twitch about his eye. His confession letter, then?

Probably. I had told him a while ago to confess and get rejected. His long-winded unrequited love for my wife had started to irritate me just a tad.

She messily tore open the envelope, but before she could pull out the letter, Jin gently took it from her hands.

“Don’t read it today.” He said softly, almost tenderly.

“It’s a birthday card. I have to read it today.” A puzzled little furrow appeared between her eyebrows.

“It’s not a birthday card. Read it tomorrow.”

She giggled, then ruffled Jin’s hair. “You weirdo.”

He blushed and fiddled with his fingers and I knew then that it was a confession letter. Jin, possessor of a face so handsome that shopkeepers gave him free products, was rarely so nervous around my wife.

Only in the times when he couldn’t hide his love for her.

The day passed in relative quiet. After Jin left, my wife and Haru decided to go to the movies to see Finding Dory, while I elected to stay home and clean the house. I planned on cooking and freezing numerous meals before Sun Jae was expected to enter the world. The due date was only sixteen days away, but I knew he could safely come at any time. My wife’s pregnancy had gone smoothly in spite of all the complications.

I found the letter on her nightstand while I was dusting our bedroom. I set the duster on the floor and plopped onto her side of the bed, curiosity getting the better of me. My bandmate was confessing to my wife; the least I could do was read up on the competition.

I unfolded the thick, sweet-smelling paper and scanned Seokjin’s neat handwriting. He had used her real name in the greeting, which irritated me. Only I called her by her first name.

“I know this is the stupidest timing,” He began, “but I wanted to tell you how I feel. I think I could marry Anjali. She’s gorgeous and smart and wonderful and yes, I’m smitten, but I can’t fall in love with her. I can’t fall in love with her because I’m still hung up on someone else.

Do you remember the first time you saw Jimin? I’m sure you do, he tells the story over and over because he thinks it makes him look good. Suave and confident, he always says. I think it makes him look like a lovesick little puppy, and I think that’s what you like about it.

I was there that day, but you probably don’t remember even seeing me. I sat patiently at the table with the rest of Bangtan, watching Jimin ask you out and waiting for my turn to speak with you. You’ve probably heard the story of the challenge we made. Jimin was too nervous to talk to you, but everyone goaded him into it. I didn’t want him to. I wanted to talk to you myself, because you had a nice smile and a thoughtful way of looking out the window.

When Jimin came back triumphant, I pouted a little. When you came over to talk to him once more, my heart raced at the blush on your face when he kissed your cheek. You were absolutely adorable and delightfully witty. I wanted to kiss your cheek.

You have probably never realized that I have feelings for you, although I’m sure everyone else has. Namjoon has kindly stopped assuring me that I will find a nice girl someday, and Jungkook has stopped sending me pitiful looks whenever we’re all together. No one else has ever asked me about it, but I see varying degrees of hostility and sympathy in everyone’s eyes.

Jimin knows, but don’t be mad at him. He guessed about four years ago. I couldn’t pretend very well that I was happy to hear the news of your marriage and pregnancy. Not when I thought I’d finally have a chance with you.

You see, when Jimin left you and you moved back to Busan, I hadn’t expected you to cut off all contact with me. I figured it probably hurt to be reminded of Jimin, so I decided to give you space. I didn’t realize that you were working in his parents’ restaurant (something I still don’t understand), or that Jimin would come back and you two would get back together. I was happy that you were happy, but I hadn’t wanted that particular happiness for you.

I wanted you to be happy with me.

I planned on telling you eventually, one day. I had come up with the elaborate plan of getting your address from Ji Eun, who was very much in lust with Namjoon at that time, and surprising you at your apartment in Busan. You would be a little annoyed with me at first, but I’d hug you and you would rest your head on my shoulder and whisper something about having missed me. I’d set up camp in your kitchen, cooking your favorite sweet potato burritos while relaxing your mood with some soju. You’d end up crying on the couch after dinner, talking about Jimin and how much you missed him. I’d listen to it, all the while letting you rest your head on my shoulder. Eventually, you’d fall asleep and I’d tuck you into bed, then make myself comfortable on the couch. In the morning, before you woke up, I’d make you French toast, not pancakes, because Jimin always made you pancakes. We’d spend the day at your favorite places, like that old bookstore you took me to back in the day. Do you remember that? We spent hours holed up in that dusty place, reading ghost stories out loud to each other until Jimin finished his shift at the restaurant and dragged you away, complaining that you read too much.

I remember that day, because I almost kissed you.

You were sitting in an old armchair with your feet tucked up under you. A cat had curled up on the armrest, and you sneezed every so often, but didn’t push it away. You were reading Edgar Allen Poe, and I was pretending to read Dracula, but actually I couldn’t stop staring at you. I sat right next to you on a stool, and you looked my way once to ask how my book was, and our lips were so close I could feel your breath against my mouth. I almost leaned in and kissed you, but you blushed and moved your face away before I could.

I don’t know if I would have, but I think about the almost quite often.

Is this too much for you? I know I’m your daughter’s godfather, but I’m in love with you. I have been for years. I’m not even sure when it happened, but I think it was around the time you broke up with Jimin. He was so mopey and disillusioned and nostalgic. When he kissed another girl in front of you and I drove you home crying, I think I fell in love with you. So stubborn and regretful, but God, you were always so, so sweet. Jimin has always loved your sass, but I fell in love with your sweetness. With the small upward curve of your lips whenever you’re especially shyly pleased with something. With the pretty little sparkle in your eyes whenever you hold a book you really love. With the gentle way you hold Haru’s hand when she’s telling you a story. Do you know you’re overflowing with sweetness? You’re an actual angel.

I fell in love with you when you sniffled in my car and told me that you hoped Jimin would be happy with that girl. You hoped he would forget about you and find happiness with someone else, because you didn’t think you could give it to him. You sounded so sad and sincere. Foolish, too, but I knew you really did want Jimin to be happy.

And I pictured you moving on with me. Finding happiness with me.

I know you thought that I hung out with you at that time out of pity. That I bought you tea and took you out for drinks and dinner because I was being a good friend.

I’ve let you think that because I’m very hopelessly in love with you. All I can be is a good friend to you, but I just wanted to spend time with you.

I love Haru, and I love Jimin, and if you’ll let me still be in your life, I’m sure I’ll love Sun Jae.

But I have dreamed of kissing you for years.

I’m haunted by our almost kiss. Isn’t that pathetic?

You wouldn’t even remember it. It’s not memorable.

I know I’m not memorable to you, but I’ve dedicated a million insignificant moments with you to memory.

I know this letter will make you uncomfortable and you’ll possibly hate me. I’m sorry that I’ve masqueraded as a good friend for years when in reality, I’ve been a quietly rejected lover.

But I have to tell you that I have whispered “I love you” a hundred times to you when you’ve fallen asleep on my shoulder or in my car or even in my bed.

I have to tell you that I got drunk at your wedding because I had imagined you marrying me for so long, hopelessly. I have to tell you that my eyes grew wet with tears at Haru’s christening because you asked me to be her godfather, but I wished that I had been her father.

Do you know why Jimin always insists that you’re only allowed to marry me if he dies?

It’s because he knows that I love you and can’t stop. I love you so much that I’ll raise his children and take care of his heartbroken wife, even though I know you don’t love me. I know you don’t love me, and I know you’ll never love me, but I need you to tell me so I can move on.

I needed to tell you so I can move on.

I’m thinking of marrying Anjali, because she’s gorgeous and smart and wonderful, and yes, I’m smitten.

But you, you are perfect. And yes, I’m in love with you.

Happy birthday to my best friend. Even if I can’t call you that for much longer, you’re my favorite person. After my mom, of course. Always after my mom.

Love always,

Seokjin

P.S. Don’t be mad at Jimin for never telling you. I asked him not to, and he’s been a better friend to me than I’ll ever be to him.”

I stared at the letter, holding it loosely as the words took their time to sink in. I had no idea how my wife would respond to this kind of letter. Her close friendship with Jin had often been a source of jealousy for me. I knew he had loved her, but he had never done anything about it. We’d talked about it once or twice until recently, when he confessed that he had hoped to marry Anjali but couldn’t forget his first love. I knew my wife was his first love, but I told him to confess and get rejected. He argued with me, making valid points, but I knew he just didn’t want to lose her.

This confession, this heartfelt, heartbreaking letter, was his way of letting her go. There was no way he could remain close friends with her after this.

This letter would change everything.

I felt sorry for him.

As I lay in bed that night next to my wife, I heard the soft rustling of paper.

“What are you doing?” I asked her sleepily as she fumbled for her glasses, reaching over me to my nightstand, where she’d carelessly left them.

“Reading Jin’s letter. I know he told me not to, but he’s dumb. Birthday cards are meant to be read on birthdays.”

“Wait.” I sat up and took the letter from her hands, gently placing it in her lap.

“What are you doing?” She looked adorably confused, a small pout on her lips and glasses perched on her nose.

“I just want to give you a birthday kiss.” I cupped her face in my hands and rubbed our noses together before placing once sweet kiss on .

She pulled away with a smile. “I want a couple more birthday kisses.” She breathed, leaning in closer.

I kissed her three more times before whispering, “I love you” in her ear. She kissed my neck and reached for Jin’s letter as I turned out the light on my side.

I pretended to sleep while she read. I closed my eyes at the first small gasp of surprise. Pulled my blanket up to my ears when she whispered, “Oh, Jin.” Regulated my breathing as she started to sniffle. I could hear the tears plop onto the paper.

I ignored the ache in my chest and the knot in my stomach as my wife cried over another man’s confession of love. By the time she finally turned out the light and settled down sniffling into bed, I was turning my wedding ring anxiously around my finger, hoping I’d never find the occasion to take it off.

Hoping she’d never wear Jin’s ring instead of mine.

My wife’s feet pressed against my calves, her toes cold even in the summer heat. She shifted closer and closer to me, until she lay with her forehead touching my back. Her huge, rounded stomach felt cool against my body and I reminded myself that she loved me. That we were having a baby in two weeks.

That Jin’s confession of love wouldn’t break us.

I hoped to God that it wouldn’t break him.