Eventually, she opted to brew to soothe her nerves.

In the past few weeks, Eun Tak felt a shift inside her. Her stomach rebelled on the anything savory, dissipating her hunger. She would inconspicuously find her way to the restroom in the wee hours of the morning in hopes that her husband wouldn't notice. The bitterness of coffee was ash-like against her tongue. She favored the sweet and salty, munching on sugar-glazed bread and snacking on chips in between breaks. She never ate too much, but her appetite seemingly grew exponentially. Her body felt sluggish and sore, even when she would take days to rest from work.

It was bothersome, but it left her curious. All signs pointed to something she wouldn't dare to imagine (her husband is a goblin, for heaven's sake).

It couldn't be, could it?

The closing of the front door resounded against the quiet of the room. Eun Tak almost jumped from her seat, but gripped tightly on her skirt. In a matter of seconds, her husband was standing across her, a searching look on his face.

(Of course, he would notice. He wasn’t a renowned military general a millennium ago for nothing.)

Eun Tak gave him a shaky smile, which had Kim Shin leaning over her across the dining table.

“I think I’m pregnant,” she whispered, disbelief coloring her voice. Eun Tak bit her lip, “Or I’m just stressed and my body’s coping.”

Her husband took her hand to his.

“It’s not possible, is it?” Eun Tak laughed humorlessly, her free hand combing on her loose curls. “You’re…you’re— and I’m…“

“You are pregnant.”

The steadiness on her husband’s voice surprised her.

Eun Tak shifted her eyes to her husband’s, eyes glassy in overwhelming euphoria. His smile was so wide. “You’re pregnant,” he repeated. “Samshin promised.”

She pulled herself up, circling the table and held her husband as tight as her smaller frame could hold him. She could feel his body trembling against hers, but no tear dampened the curve of her neck. He lifted her to the table, still holding her close, his lips pressing hard on the junction of her neck and head. His breaths tickled her head as she cradled her against him.

She planted her lips on his neck, laying invisible marks on the skin over his collarbone. (She thanked spring for coming on time, for letting her savor the expanse of his exposed skin.) Crescents were dug against the fabric covering his arm as she whispered in gratitude with every kiss. In turn, his hand s beneath the thin cloth of her button down, tracing lines on her waist as if calling on the growing child on her womb.

(He was tracing lines and curves against her skin. It was only later when she realized he was drawing the characters of their child’s name, marking them both as his family.)

--

He always thought it would be a different child – a sister of hers, or someone she would be babysitting for a friend. When she finally finds him in her second life, visions of an almost impossible future assaulted his mind. He knew it was her bride because she had the same smile, the same face when she left him. This time she is dressed in a thin hospital gown cradling a newborn wrapped in a pale-yellow blanket.

The next image was colored with the sound of her and the child’s laughter as the latter took her first steps. He could barely discern his face from the haze, but he was sure he was the one to release his hold from the child as she stomped proudly to her mother.

Then the child was crying, tightly holding her mother’s waist as the mother brushed the child’s hair in comfort.

The child – now a woman – proudly smiling at him and his bride as she proudly strode on stage to receive her diploma.

Him, dancing with his bride as their child danced with her own beau.

When his bride was finally standing in front of him, he was tearing up because he saw the future he always wanted to share with her.

A future with their family.

--

Eun Tak woke up in mornings with Kim Shin tracing her barely swollen stomach in his sleep.

Between the two of them, she is the early riser. (In some other lifetime, it was Kim Shin, but with her return came the peace that settled in his weary bones.) She took control of the kitchen and let the man linger in the comforts of their bed for minutes longer, his face buried to her unoccupied pillow. With her return, former routines came to place, as if she hasn’t been gone for decades.

The first few days after the confirmation of her pregnancy, she would wake to the gentle ministrations of her husband, his thumb caressing the slopes of her abdomen. She would feel his face against the crevice of her neck, his breaths brushing the small hairs near her nape. he would be curling around her, his arms protectively encasing her small body.

At times, she wanted to curse the gods for keeping him alone.

At times, she wanted to curse herself, too.

(For being vulnerable. For being fragile. For leaving. For always having the opportunity and strength to leave.)

When he finally wakes, Eun Tak would hold him close, apologies bridging decades worth of waiting between them.

--

At the beginning of the second trimester, the passing of her morning sickness somehow brought her relief. Her body was beginning to catch up with the burden of providing for two, and she would be more tired than before. It gave her an excuse to stay in bed longer than usual, and it was something her husband took advantage of.

When the haziness brought upon by sleep is slowly clearing from her consciousness, she could feel her husband’s breath against her stomach. At first, she wondered if he was listening for the child – a hint of heartbeat or movement from the child’s shell. Upon further listening, she discovered that her husband was reciting poetry to their child. Her old book in one of his hands, his baritone voice was carried by the hush of dawn as it filled their room.

At times, Eun Tak would be moved to tears, which she do her best to control so as not to disturb the soothing tone of her husband’s voice.

Instead, her hand would find its way to his hair, signaling him that she was already awake. He would always plant a kiss first on her abdomen, just above her umbilicus before finding her lips.

--

Eun Tak wanted to have a son. When she told that to Kim Shin, her husband only smirked.

(Damn seer.)

So, on the day of her prenatal check-up when they were to know their child’s , they made a bet. Whoever guessed their child’s would have full reign on designing their child’s room.

(Eun Tak knows her husband would win, but decided to humor him.)

The thing with her husband is that he would get easily fascinated with technology despite living for centuries once he took a closer look at it. He would openly stare at the tools and instruments his eyes would land on, and even had a staring contest at the waiting room with a toddler. (In his defense, the child stared first, but he could be pettily competitive half the time. Also, he saw that the child would be the future prime minister of South Korea, so he had to take a good look at him.)

When the obstetrician tells them that their child is a girl, Kim Shin raised his arms triumphantly, shouting “Hah!”

When she arrived from work the next day, a frantic group of laborers were rushing in and out of their house. She could only shake her head.

(When the nursery finally comes together, Kim Shin led her blindfolded to the room. He placed their hands – his atop of hers – against the textured wall, against the antique crib and rocking chair he carved with his own hands, the different charms of the mobile attached to the crib with their own stories. She felt the intricately molded bouquet of buckwheat flowers, the sharpness of the tip of the sword, its contrast to the softness of a small hat, a jade ring, and the words Destin.

That night, they mourned for their lost family as they celebrated the coming of the new one.)