A slight crackle from the baby monitor was all it took to cut off the sleep you barely had. Funny how it’s only been a few weeks since your little one came, yet going through all this already scraped ten years off your entire lifespan. At least that’s how it feels like.

Carrying her for nine months was a piece of cake if you compare it with what comes after. Oh god, what really comes after.

You remember coming home from the hospital, going through that door with a newborn bundled up in your arms. The overwhelming realization that you have this whole new responsibility made you weak in the knees, and it was horrifying. Minho and you shared an awkward laugh, throwing each other a string of confused looks having no clue on how to start with any of this.

A week later and he’s still deathly terrified of holding her, convinced that he might drop her because –“Johnny weighs more than her, babe.” You remember glaring at him, screeching– “Did you just compare our baby to a cat?!”

 It wasn’t a lie to say that you had doubts, thinking that you’ve made a huge mistake of having a kid now. Since it seemed like you already have one at home, and that was Song Minho.

Your legs made it over the edge of the bed, arching your back in for a painful stretch and you sneak a glimpse over your shoulders. Minho was sleeping soundlessly, the covers that were strewn over him lulled his soft snores and you sigh quietly, at least one of you is getting some sleep.

Everything seemed to ache still and you struggle to push your weight off the bed as you make your way through the darkness of the bedroom. The golden glow streaming from the open space of her bedroom door guides you in, her scent –mild and powdery sweet welcomes you with warm arms.

Just as you had suspected, she was fast asleep and that light peep from the monitor was probably nothing to worry about. But being a mother was something still so new to you, worrying about the slightest little things was inevitable. Every sneeze, every cough that squirmed out of her tiny mouth always seemed to put you on edge, and with Minho, this was way worse. Which was why you preferred to take over night duties, he was one to fret endlessly that it worried you more than you already were.

There was something about her room that made you feel at ease, maybe it was because you were close with her here. You wanted to keep her in the bedroom you and Minho shared, not having the heart to let her sleep on her own just yet. But Minho’s late night fussing kept her awake, and when she cries, she really cries.

He’d decorated the room himself, hues of pinks blushed the walls and the carpeted floor, a collection of plush toys already lined at one end of the room. You remember having to confiscate his card as he kept on impulsively buying baby toys whenever he was out; you could already tell who she would favour most between the two of you.  

Minho was excited to paint her room with his art work, spending hours and nights on end sketching the perfect piece. But you came home one day to see that he’d left it blank, telling you that he wanted to let her fill the walls herself. He was so sure that she would take after him, praying rather loudly that she won’t inherit your clumsy fingers. She looks a lot like him too, lashes that shadowed her adorable cheeks and a small heart-shaped pout that parts whenever she sleeps.

The creak of the door snaps you from your train of thoughts and you see Minho peering into the room. His dark locks dishevelled, and sleep worn eyes barely open as he adjusts to the dim light of your daughter’s room.

She must have caught her dad’s intrusion, letting out a string of halted cries that pierced the calm ambience of her room. You stoop down hurriedly into her cot, sliding your arms under her tiny frame as you cage her in to your embrace.

“I woke her up didn’t I?” He whispers hoarsely at your side and you were too occupied trying to sooth your daughter’s screaming to spare him a glance, tossing him a disgruntled nod instead.

“Come here,” He grabs your elbow, pulling you slowly towards him, “Let me hold her, you go back to bed.”

Minho had both palms open in front of you and he nods a soft assurance as he reads the reluctant look scribbled on your face.

Her delicate body moulds safely into the crook of his large arms, and your heart melts when her whimpers cease at her father’s touch.  

 “Get some rest, I’ll stay with her.” Minho shoots you a sleepy smile, tilting his head towards the door. Seeing them together made you forget how exhausted you really are and you stand there smiling like a fool.

“You look terrible, really.” Minho breathes, wiping the smile off your face and he chuckles silently at your wide eyes.

“I hate you.” You grumble and he treads over to you – I know, I hate you too tangled in your messy hair as he places a soft kiss on your head.   

//

Minho finds you sitting by the edge of the bed with your back towards him. Your tired shoulders drowning in his shirt; you practically raided his closet as his clothes seemed more comfortable to get around with ever since the baby.  He spots you tip your head side to side and he could tell you were in discomfort as your fingers pressed along the back of your neck.

He crawls over to you and you turn to him when the movement of his weight dips the bed.

“Is she asleep?”

Minho only hums back a confirmation and you feel your hair fall over your shoulders when he pulls down the hair tie that barely did its job. His palms cup the back of your head as he gathers your hair up, tying the long strands up high to a loose bun they way you’d taught him to.  

“Thank you….” You laugh quietly, amused at how he could remember such thing. He lets out a pleased smile as he looks at you adoringly, “You can hold her perfectly now.”

His laughter bursts deeply and he rakes a hand through his hair, “I know, I’ve been practising.”

“The cat doesn’t count, Minho.”

“Hey –Johnny does the job perfectly fine.” He raises a brow, knees brushing your back as he scoots closer to you.

It always made you wonder how his rough fingers have always felt gentle against your skin, his thumb kneading soft circles on the base of your neck. His free hand steadies you by the shoulder when he feels you loosen under his hold.

 “You know… I would definitely switch places with you if I could.” Minho trails off, and it reminds you that you probably need to go back to feed her soon.

“You mean like those seahorses?” A smile lingers on your lips as you recall a memory, and Minho seems to catch on to which one.

“Ha ha, you’re funny.” He laughs sarcastically, and you couldn’t help but join in.

If you remember correctly, it was a few weeks before you were due and everything was just goddamn uncomfortable. The constant need to go to the toilet with your bladder on full blast irritated you, and it certainly didn’t help when you had to waddle around with swollen feet. Good god, the swollen feet.

He was away for a schedule, although it felt like he wasn’t with the hourly calls he’d bombard you with throughout the day. You appreciated it but it worried you how it surely bothered his time at work, squeezing in a white lie as you told him you were going to take a nap just to hold him off. Naps with an overly excited baby kicking you in the stomach certainly did not go well together.  

And when he managed to get you on the phone, you were watching national geographic on TV, snacking on a bowl of grapes that balanced off your bulging stomach.

“How’s your back?”

“Ugh. I’ll live.”

“I’m sorry, babe –what are you doing?”

“Wishing that we’re seahorses instead.” You mutter and his confused laugh vibrates through the line, “Did you know that male seahorses are the ones that give birth?”

It wasn’t him that was laughing then.

The first time you told him you were pregnant, the look on his face is still clear as day –it was as if he was the one that got pregnant. Even when he didn’t take the news very well, Minho was determined to learn, he didn’t need to say it but you knew he was worried that he wouldn’t be the best father.

Just as you were being a mother.

Countless times you caught him with his headphones not plugged in properly, and you’d think he was utterly immersed in that one rap track. You remember being close to tears when you heard the upbeat educational children’s song, replacing his usual music playlist.

When your water broke, you kept in mind to stay calm because Minho certainly wouldn’t.  Yet he remained quiet as he gathered the things you prepared for that day, making sure that he hadn’t left anything behind. You didn’t expect him to be so calm and collected, and you had an itch that something wasn’t right. And sure enough, the minute you got to the hospital he refused to get out of the parked car, hands still clutched around the steering wheel.

“I think I’m going to die.”

“Would you mind holding that thought? I kind of need you to stay alive right now –maybe tomorrow?”

As soon as she was born he cried harder than you did and you never thought he’d look at anyone else the way he looks at you. She had him wrapped around her tiny finger, and Minho was completely head over heels at first sight.

“I am pretty funny. That’s why you married me, no?” You bite back a laugh and he snorts at your remark, one that was just as sarcastic. He chuckles and you feel his chest pressed onto your back as he wraps his arm around your waist, hooking his chin on your shoulder.

He smells just like your daughter with hints of musk, masculine just like the first time you crossed paths. You remember him stealing glances your way from the opposite ends of the room, and you weren’t going to lie if you weren’t a little flustered. You have always been curious for a lot of things, and it seems like Song Minho was one of them at that end of year party.

There was something in the way he carried himself, practically chatting up everyone in that room with a contagious smile. He was bright, a mood maker no doubt. A complete contrast to you who seemed to blur into the background, blending into the crowd with thoughts of home not far from your mind.  

He must’ve wondered the same thing about you, how someone could remain so composed in place that was anything but that. It wasn’t until you’d caught him staring and it took everything in you to hold his gaze. He was quick to look away, baffled at your frank move that he did not expect. Minho wasn’t as upfront as you thought he was.

It became a little game that only the two of you shared until he walked up to you to introduce himself, which he didn’t need to.  His name was no stranger, whispered from one crowd to another and it wasn’t hard to catch on.

His number idled in your phone, until one night you accidentally sent a ridiculous bathtub selfie only to receive back with another one of his, in a bathtub too. You remember almost choking in a mouthful of lavender bubble bath when you realized that it was the wrong friend. He’d apologized and informed you that –‘I’m sorry, I suppose that was for your boyfriend? But holy crap, I’m taking a bath too?’

And you remember thinking, and holy crap, were you this attractive before?

Though you dismissed the thought, texting back –‘Nope, no boyfriend. Sorry about the photo!’

You were already submerged, drowning yourself in embarrassment. He’d texted you back saying that he was rather surprised and cuts to the chase, asking if you wanted to have lunch sometime.

“I definitely did.” His breath simmered your neck, and you couldn’t remember the last time he was this close. Your stomach fluttered just as it did, like the first time he held you this way.

“Lies.” You poke an elbow to his side, and he tightens his arms around you to stop your assault.

“I’m terrible with making the right decisions, but I’ve never been so right when it comes to you.” His words caught you off guard, and you were no longer trying to fight him under his hold.

“You’re so cheesy.” You place a hand on his thighs as you twist to face him, scrunching your face in disapproval. You were never good with things like these, and when you got to Minho’s sensitive side, you didn’t know how to respond.

“Our daughter–” He looks down to his lap with a small smile, “, and you. I’m happy with my decisions. I hope you are too.”

All you could do was slide your fingers in between his and he locks them in place–

More than you know, Minho-ah.

//