With a shudder of exhaustion Luhan pressed his forehead against the cool metal of the bathroom door stall and took a long, deep breath. Eyes clenched closed, he reached out to pull the handle of the toilet in front of him, the flush that followed sounding more like a hurricane at his height and perspective, than anything else.

He hated this.

Nearly six months in, and he still hated it.

“Here you go.”

Luhan heard the sound of his bathroom stall opening, and then Kris was crouching in front of him, holding out a water bottle. “Swish and spit, please.”

Tremendously uncomfortable, Luhan snapped, “I’m not a child.”

Kris pursed his lips and said, “No, you’re an adult, that’s for sure.” He poked Luhan’s stomach for good measure. “But you also just spent fifteen minutes vomiting up your breakfast, you now look as pale as a ghost, and if there’s any hope of you saving today and not being sent home like a naughty school boy, I suggest you take the bottle of water and—”

Weakly, Luhan asked, “Swish and spit?”

“Exactly.” Kris winked at him. “Also, once you do that we can do something about you being on the floor of a bathroom stall. I keep my place clean, but all the same, let’s not risk the germs that might be down there.”

Luhan gave a slow nod. When the first bout of sickness and nausea had hit him, he’d thought it was the normal kind. He spent most of his days now feeling ill, and a couple of minutes dry heaving in the bathroom wasn’t out of the normal. But that prediction had gone out the window the second he’d started bringing up real food.

Of all the days to have a bad day.

“You feeling okay?” Kris asked, pressing the back of his hand to Luhan’s forehead. “And don’t give me that fine, crap. You don’t look fine.”

“I am,” Luhan insisted, rising out the taste of vomit in his mouth. “It’s just a bad day.”

“We didn’t have to do this today, you know,” Kris pointed out. “We’re all going to be there tomorrow for your big party.”

“I know,” Luhan said slowly and with a frown. “But today is different.”

Tomorrow, tomorrow Luhan would face the reality of the situation at hand, where Sehun would probably be spending far more time away from him than with him. he’d have to stand in front of all their friends and explain his absence away. And yes, there’d be joy in having everyone together all at once, it was something Lohan had so desperately been looking forward to for so long. But today was much, much different.

“I just wanted a piece of the past,” Luhan said.

Kris gave him a kind smile then. “Well, no one can blame you for that.”

Luhan didn’t think he was asking too much. He just wanted his core friends, the people who had meant the most to him before Sehun had even been in his life, to meet up with him in their old hangout, so they could pretend—if only for a couple of hours, like life wasn’t completely different for all of them.

“Tell me when you’re ready to get up,” Kris said.

Luhan gave him a wry smile. “I feel pretty bad about this, actually. You and Xiumin ran everyone out of here the second you realized what was going on. I’m sure plenty of people need to use the restroom.”

Kris chided, “Think of yourself for a second.” Then he stood and left the bathroom stall to bang on the door to the coffee shop.

Xiumin’s head popped in, his gaze settling on Luhan firmly, and he asked, “You okay?”

Luhan admitted, “I think the worst of it is over now.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Kris asked, “There a line building up out there?”

Xiumin snorted in almost a pretentious way. “I told them to get lost five minutes ago.”

Luhan smothered down a laugh. Most of the time he disapproved of how heavy-handed Xiumin could be. But other times, he really enjoyed it. Secretly, of course.

“Ready?” Kris held a hand out to him.

Luhan let Kris do most of the work, concentrating on keeping his balance as he got to his feet, and not the effort it now took to do so.

“Is everyone freaking out?” Luhan asked, moving carefully to the sink to was his hands.

Xiumin slipped fully into the room and leaned back against the door. “Nah, we know you’ve got a flare for the dramatic—have known for a while, actually.”

“Funny,” Luhan said blandly. “I mean it. I don’t want to ruin this.”

Kris scoffed, looking at him through the mirror. “What’s there to ruin. We’re just a bunch of friends getting together at our favorite coffee shop, to hang out and talk. Plus, this can’t be the first time you’ve ended up hugging a toilet in a public bathroom. Contrary to that squeaky clean façade you like to let people see, Luhan, I’ve heard some wild stories of your first couple years here in South Korea.”

Luhan’s gaze shot to Xiumin. “You filthy traitor.”

Xiumin beamed at Luhan, and told Kris, “Our darling little Luhan could drink me under the table those first few years, and he was such an instigator.”

“I believe it,” Kris said in a solemn way.

“You are both dead to me,” Luhan warned, but he was feeling so, so much better. He feet were more solid under him, his stomach was empty and no longer churning, and there was the steady movement of the baby to comfort him. “But if you’re both don’t slandering my good name, I’m ready to get back out there.”

Carelessly, Xiumin asked, “Kris, is it slander if it’s true?”

Kris held open the door for Luhan and Xiumin. “There’s some gray area there, but we can talk about it some more if you want.”

“Dead to me,” Luhan repeated, and took confident steps back out into the coffee shop.

Almost immediately he spotted the series of tables that he and the others had dragged together across the room. They’d put themselves at the big bay window in the corner, and it was where Tao and Lay currently were, talking about something that had put smiles on both their faces.

It was like stepping into the past, for just a moment. Not much had changed about the café in a little over three years. The furniture was still eclectic and sort of mismatched, the baristas still knew most orders of regular customers by heart, and some of Luhan’s artwork still hung on the wall.

Maybe the café was part of a chain now, and there were cute little cakes and treats being sold, but all in all, it was still the place that Luhan had practically grown up in.

It was where he’d lived, at least in the apartment above, when he was pregnant with Youri, and in the months that followed afterwards when he’d still been learning how to parent. That apartment was filled now, but Luhan remembered climbing the stairs to get up there, and waking up every morning to the smell of fresh coffee.

“Luhan?” Xiumin asked, touching an elbow.

“Let’s go,” Luhan said, starting back over for the table.

“You’re back,” Tao said brightly when Luhan got there, jumping up to pull his chair out for him. “I’m sorry you got sick.”

“Thanks,” Luhan told him with a laugh.

“It’s your fault,” Kris teased, musing Tao’s hair like he was still that college kid who got tripped up over his own feet. “He took one look at that ugly facial hair you’re trying to grow, and lost his breakfast.”

Tao wailed loudly, “Luhan, that’s not true, right? Kris is just being mean. That’s totally not true!”

Some things, Luhan figured, never changed.

“It’s not that bad,” Lay said, trying to soften the wailing protest from Tao. “In a couple of years, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of facial hair.”

Luhan’s fingers curled around his carrot juice as he watched Tao at the little patch of hair under his bottom lip almost reverently.

Luhan had missed Lay something fierce. For the most part, Sehun had been the one with the friends who drifted the most. Luhan had had Xiumin stay close, and and Kris as well. Tao had gone back to China for some time after his graduation, but he’d come back eventually, almost like South Korea had called him home. Now Tao was working on a graduate degree, working out of doctor’s office towards his goal of being a physical therapist.

Lay was the holdout. Lay was the one friend Luhan hadn’t been able to hold onto. Lay, like he’d promised is parents, and like the dutiful son that Luhan wasn’t, had gone back to China shortly after Youri had been born. And of course he’d visited off and on, most notably for Chen and Eunji’s wedding, but he’d stayed away the longest of everyone

Luhan understood, ultimately. Lay was married now, married to Yiru who he’d brought with him for the party, and who had been the one to help Sehun get him out of Beijing after Luhan’s parents had tricked him into going in the first place. Lay wasn’t just a married man, either. He was advancing quickly through his father’s company, and would probably be the head of it within another decade or so. Lay was setting down roots, and building his future, and Luhan only wanted him to be happy.

Plus, Lay truly was good about visiting. He came a couple times a year, and that was just enough, even if he only stayed for a few of days at a time.

Lay had even promised to be there for the new baby’s birth. Lay had said, “I was there when Youri was born, and so I want to be here for this new one.”

That touched Luhan deeply and profoundly. He didn’t think any of his friends had any idea how important it was to him that they were near during important times in his life, but having them there made all the difference in the world.

Especially if … if Sehun …

No. Luhan wasn’t going to think about that. Sehun had given his sworn word. He’d said that no matter how his job took him away in the months leading up to the baby’s birth, he was going to be there when the event came. Luhan couldn’t accept any other possibility.

Luhan reached across the table to pat Tao’s hand and said, “It looks fine. I promise.”

Kris made a loud, offensive sound into his iced coffee.

“Stop whining,” Xiumin ordered to Tao, but not rudely. “Luhan’s right. It looks okay. Kris is just being mean.”

“So now you’re all ganging up on me?” Kris asked, actually looking delighted, rather than offended.

“No one is ganging up on anyone,” Lay insisted.

“You’re just saying that because no one ever gangs up on you,” Kris pointed out.

Luhan leaned all the way back in his chair, bringing his carrot juice up to take a drink, pleasure curing his way through his body. This. He missed this so much. The simple banter, the easy arguing, and the bickering that really only meant they were a group of friends who would do anything for each other.

Luhan was jarred from his thoughts with a nudge to his side, and then Tao was asking, “Hey, Luhan, there’s your friend, right?”

Luhan looked across the café to where Wei had just come in. He was scanning the crowd, obviously looking for them, and Luhan put his hand up and waved.

“That’s Wei,” Luhan said, looking from face to face. “I asked him to come, if you guys don’t mind. I didn’t want him to be lonely, and I knew he didn’t have any work to do today.”

Xiumin, unsurprisingly, was the first to shrug and say, “Of course not. Why would we mind?” Luhan certainly thought Xiumin didn’t, and it had everything to do with that obvious crush he was harboring.

“Sorry I’m running late,” Wei said when he reached them. He slipped his satchel over his head and set it down in the empty chair next to Xiumin. He looked over the faces he didn’t recognize and introduced, “I’m Wei, Luhan’s friend. I hope you don’t mind if I join you. Luhan said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Xiumin’s head craned up to look at Wei and he said firmly, “Of course you can join us. We’d be glad to have you.”

Luhan rather liked the look Xiumin got in his eyes when he saw Wei. It was sweet.

“Okay then,” Wei said, appeased. He touched Xiumin’s shoulder in a far more intimate way than expected, and said, “I’m going to grab a coffee then. Can I get you one, Minseok?”

A smile broke on Luhan’s face.

Tao looked baffled, Lay looked pensive, and Kris just had plain shock and surprise on his face.

“A macchiato?” Xiumin proposed.

Wei nodded and turned to go just as Kris told him, “I own the place, you know. Tell them you’re my friend. They won’t charge you.”

Wei gave a single shoulder shrug and turned to look at Xiumin one more time, saying, “I’d kind of like to buy his drink, actually, if you don’t mind. But thanks all the same.”

Wei headed off to get in line, Xiumin turned a furious shade of red, and Kris asked flatly, “Okay, what the hell was that?”

“That was none of your business,” Xiumin told him sharply

Luhan interjected, “That was my oldest friend, Wei, making it very clear to all of you, just what kind of a man he is.”

Wei had never been timid, to say the least. Even when they’d been younger, and he and Luhan had been capitulating to the will of their parents, Wei had never been one to do anything but make his intentions known.

“What?” Tao’s head tilted.

“I said,” Xiumin repeated, “that’s none of anyone’s business.”

Lay smiled softly and said, “I think it’s cute. He’s sweet on you.”

“He’s handsome, too,” Tao interjected, looking Wei over. “Luhan, have you been hiding super-hot friends? Do you have some more? Preferably female? Why should only Xiumin get your hot Chinese friends?”

“Enough,” Xiumin said sharply.

“Alright, alright,” Luhan agreed, more worried that Xiumin was going to have a over the teasing, than anything else. “Everyone stop making fun of Xiumin, even though he and Wei have been making googly eyes at each other for days, and having dinner together, and are definitely, definitely going to kiss soon—if they already haven’t.”

Xiumin gave a scandalized intake of air.

Kris chuckled lowly. “How does it feel to be the one getting ganged up on now?”

Lay leaned forward a little and commented, “You two do make a lovely couple.”

“But kind of funny,” Tao decided. “He’s so tall, and you’re so short, Xiumin.”

Luhan felt kind of bad. Xiumin absolutely did look like he was going to have now.

But thankfully things had quieted down at their table by the time Wei returned with two drinks in hand. And no one said a word when Wei sat down, handed Xiumin his drink, and then put an arm around the back of his chair.

Luhan thought it was something wonderful that Wei was being so bold with his affection. There was certainly nothing imposing about the way he was acting, but Wei was also … in a way, courting Xiumin. There was a traditional feeling to the way Wei was acting towards Xiumin, and it was everything that Luhan thought Xiumin deserved and more.

“So what were you guys talking about before I got here?” Wei asked, sipping at his coffee.

“I believe,” Kris said, seemingly taking the Wei and Xiumin matter like it was normalcy already, “we were attempting to drag up the past with embarrassing stories of when we were much younger, and less smart. I take it you’ve got a couple for us about Luhan?”

Wei’s eyes lit with delight. “Actually, I’ve got a lot of embarrassing stories about Han I could share.”

“Don’t you dare,” Luhan warned, leveling a finger at him. “You have to sleep in my guest room for at least a couple more days. If you say anything, I will smother you in your sleep.”

Wei asked them, “You see what this pregnancy has done to him? He used to be so sweet.”

Luhan replied, “I have embarrassing stories about you, too.”

“Sure,” Wei agreed. “But these are your friends, Han. I think the stories about you are going to impact a little more.”

Flatly, Kris said, “Tell us everything you know, Wei.”

Luhan groaned as Wei said, “Well, I don’t even know where to start.”

As it turned out, and much to Luhan’s great relief, Wei and his friends got along splendidly. Of course there’d been no doubt that Xiumin would welcome Wei into the fray, but Luhan had been a little worried about the others. Kris was rarely one to comment on it, but he could often be a little too protective of their circle of friends and the idea of expanding it. And while Lay was as calm, cool, and accepting, Tao was equally unpredictable.

But time passed in a deliciously amusing way, their group talking about the past, trying their best to predict the future, and simply relishing in the company of each other.

Luhan went through two carrot juices, made three trips to pee, and watched Xiumin and Wei hold hands not so unnoticeably under the table, all before the sun was getting close to setting in the background.

He’d needed this, he realized. He loved Sehun and Youri and all of his other friends. But these people were the ones who’d been with him before any kind of craziness had started to occur, and they were the ones who knew him best.

It was nice enough when he saw them separately at different point in the year, but having them all together at once? It was priceless.

Of course it couldn’t last forever. And eventually Tao had to go, followed by Kris, and then Luhan watched Wei walk Xiumin out to his car.

“You’re looking well,” Lay told him when they were alone. He gave Luhan an approving look. “I know you’ve been suffering from morning sickness your entire pregnancy, and Kris told me you’ve had some stress in your life lately, but overall, you do look very good.”

“You do too,” Luhan insisted. “I really mean it. I think marriage suits you.” Luhan had had some reservations surrounding Lay’s nuptials, of course. He’d always felt guilty in a way, too. Lay had always been very open about his loyalty to his family and his country, and how unlike Tao and Luhan, he wasn’t interested in relocating back to South Korea. But Luhan also knew that Lay had cherished his time in Seoul. Lay had had to go back and get married sooner than expected because he’d bargained his extra time away from home, to help Luhan get away from his parents.

Still, Lay stood before him now over a year into his marriage, looking happy and content in a way that couldn’t be faked.

“I’m happy to be here for this,” Lay insisted. “I’m always happy to come visit.”

In a distracted way, Luhan raised an elbow up on the table and said, feeling a lump in this throat, “Can I ask your advice about something? It’s something important, and I want to talk to someone who is Chinese, who understands our culture and way of doing things, before I bring it up to Sehun.”

A smile played on Lay’s face.

“What?” Luhan asked, suddenly unnerved.

“You said our culture,” Lay reminded. “I was surprised to hear you say that. I imagined you thought of yourself wholly as Korean now.”

“No,” Luhan said, shaking his head. “I think … well, Korea is definitely my home now. I have a Korean husband, and my children are half Korean. But inside? Inside I still feel Chinese. No matter if I don’t plan to go back to China until Youri and the baby are much, much older, and regardless if I’ve been disowned or not. Inside, I think I’ll always feel Chinese.”

“You know what?” Lay posed. “Oddly enough, that makes me feel better, from one National to another.”

Luhan pressed, “And I do want to go back some day. I know Sehun probably thinks the opposite of that, and maybe I didn’t know that I wanted to go back until just recently. It took some time, I’ll admit, to separate the trauma my parents caused, from China itself. I won’t let them ruin China for me.”

Lay gave him a supportive look. “If and when you decide the time is right to come back, Yiru and I would be flattered and honored to host you. You’d never have to worry about being safe with us.”

Luhan pointed out, “The truth is, I think I disinterested my parents very much by now. There’s nothing left of the relationship to salvage, and I ruined most, if not all of their plans the last time I was with them.”

Lay chuckled humorously.

“I want to take Youri to see China one day,” Luhan confessed, already imagining it. “I want her to see where I came from, and the beauty that is China. I worry, you know, about her losing touch with how Chinese she is. She’s being raised in Korea. She speaks Korean most of the time, and is immersed in Korean culture. It wouldn’t be hard for her to overlook anything Chinese, and I don’t want that for my daughter.”

Lay corrected, “You and Youri are welcome any time.”

Luhan really believed Lay when he said that. Lay was fabulously generous and kind, and he never stated something he wasn’t willing to fully back. If Lay promised them safe harbor, then Luhan wasn’t going to be worried, especially with the amount of power that Lay was now coming into. His family was deeply influential in the commerce world of international business, and by the time Youri was old enough to travel to China, Lay was probably going to be one of the wealthiest, and most powerful men in the country.

“Thank you for the offer,” Luhan said unabashedly. “But this thing I wanted to talk to you about, it’s also why I’m terrified to put Youri anywhere near China.”

Lay frowned, creases cutting into his skin. “Tell me.”

When Luhan risked a look outside he could see Wei and Xiumin just within sights. Xiumin was in his car, and Wei was leaning down to talk to him. They looked absorbed in whatever they were speaking about, or rather like nothing else around each other existed.

“They’re adorable, really.”

Luhan looked to Lay, realizing the other man had traced his gaze.

“I didn’t set them up or anything,” Luhan said. “I just introduced them. I think they … well, come people just click. Some people are compatible.”

“I suppose so,” Lay agreed. “Even our Minseok, it seems. And you’d agree, I think, that he’s a bit of a longer at times.”

“I guess,” Luhan agreed slowly.

“But,” Lay eased out, “Wei is only in the country or a short while, isn’t he?”

Luhan answered, “Not that short, from what I understand. I think he’ll be here for another five or so months, maybe six, but you’re right, after that he’ll publish his editorial, and then I imagine he’ll move on to his next big story.”

Lay nodded pensively. “So then I wonder, if things between the two of them become serious, what happens to their relationship?”

Luhan felt suddenly horrified and ashamed. He hadn’t thought of that at all. It hadn’t even crossed his mind, but it should have. Because for as adorable and wonderful as he found the budding romance between Wei and Xiumin, if something went wrong …

Wei was a lot like rubber. He could bounce around a lot, take a lot of hits, and keep right on going. He wasn’t a machine, and he was a deeply emotional person when the situation called for it., but he was durable and enduring.

But Xiumin was different. Xiumin had a hard shell, but he was all softness on the inside. And this was the first time Luhan had seen Xiumin reach out to someone else and take a chance. He was inching along slowly with Wei, but there was definite progress.

If Xiumin got his heart broken one more time, Luhan didn’t know what would come after. And he’d feel nothing but guilt for it all.

Lay said certainly, “I’m not suggesting we dissuade them in any way. I like Wei, Luhan. He’s far different of a man now, than you descried him to be long long ago. And neither is Xiumin my best friend as he is yours. But if either of them was hurt by the natural progression of life …”

“I should talk to Xiumin?” Luhan asked, unsure.

Lay only shrugged. “I’m not sure, but maybe? I would. None of us have any place to tell him whether to take risks and not to. But if he’s aware of the future, he can better prepare for it. Agreed?”

Luhan felt stronger for the words. “You’re absolutely right. Now, can I bounce more drama off you?”

“Always,” Lay said, then promised, “and it’s never a burden to help you.”

Luhan braced himself for a second, then said, “Wei brought a letter with him when he came. He brought a letter from my parents, and we’re both convinced that it’s directed at Youri.”

Even Lay looked startled by that. “About your daughter?”

Luhan nodded in a worried way, slipping back into Chinese easily to say, “Wei was instructed to give it to me, and it originated from my parents. He didn’t open it, so he doesn’t know for sure, and I’ve been too scared to. But it must be about Daiyu, correct? The would never write to me. They disowned me. I’m as familiar to them now as a stranger. I’m only an intermediary between them and their granddaughter.”

Confused, Lay wondered, “Why would they be writing to you about Daiyu?”

Luhan posed, “Because they’re older now, and I was their only child. They had an advantageous marriage, to say the least, uniting two major families into one business merger worth … well, more than I even cared to think about. They were trying to prime me for the position of heir since I was a child, and as you know, I resisted.”

“You may think I judge you for that,” Lay said swiftly, “but I do not.”

“Judge me?” Luhan asked, uncertain. “Because you gave up your own wants to fulfill what your family asked of you, and I selfishly defected?”

Kindly, Lay said, “You didn’t defect, Luhan, and there are major differences in our situations. I enjoy the job I do. I’m happy to continue the family business. It’s not a burden for me. For you, it would have been a jail sentence.”

“I wasn’t a good Chinese son by any standard,” Luhan pointed out.

Lay countered, “You were true to yourself, and you might be surprised to find how many people are not strong enough to do what you did.”

On that, Luhan sat and thought for a second.

Finally he brought them back to the conversation they’d been having and said, “What I’ve been trying to get at is that my parents really put everything they had, all their hope and faith, into me as their heir. So when I decided to give it all up, and they disowned me, it left them with a power vacuum to deal with. I’ve got half a dozen first cousins that have probably been vying for power since then.”

“Ah,” Lay said, “but Daiyu is your biological daughter, and their biological granddaughter. Regardless of how you’ve been cut off, that doesn’t invalidate her, and she’s probably miles ahead of any of your first cousins in terms of legitimacy.”

“I know,” Luhan said simply.

“And that worries you,” Lay guessed.

Luhan told him, “I guess I thought that my parents would just write Dayu off. She was their little illegitimate grandbaby, as far as they were concerned, when I was pregnant with her. They wanted nothing to do with her. They saw her as a speed bump to fly over, if possible. I completely ignored the possibility that eventually they’d realize her value and worth to the family.”

“She is your family’s legitimate heir,” Lay agreed. “Even if it took some time for them to realize it, she is. You never gave her up to Sehun. You didn’t capitulate to marry Wei and produce the full-blooded Chinese heir that they desperately wanted. So it’s Daiyu or nothing, and I bet they want to avoid nothing.”

Once more, Luhan said, “I’m terrified for what’s in that letter. I’m terrified it’s my parents saying they want access to Daiyu, saying they want her to be primed for the position they wanted me in. I’m terrified of all the demands they could make, and damage they could do.”

Lay didn’t answer right away.

“I don’t know what I’m really asking,” Luhan confessed. “Maybe I want you to tell me I’m being paranoid and ridiculous and to just open the damned letter. Or maybe I want you to support me, and tell me my parents are dangerous, and that keeping anything to do with them far, far away from Daiyu, is the best idea ever. If you tell me to just throw the letter out and forget about it, I’ll take that suggestion seriously.”

“Don’t you want to know?” Lay asked. “Are you more afraid than curious?”

“Of my parents?” Luhan rested his elbows on the table. “Isn’t that stupid? I am. I’m an adult, and I’m still scared.”

“They can’t hurt you here, Luhan.”

“Not physically,” Luhan said. He put his chin in his palms. “But there’s a lot of damage people can do to each other without lifting a finger. That’s what I’m scared about. Do you understand?”

Lay seemed to think for a while, then said, “If this bothers you so much, and you’re so worried, throw the letter in the garbage. That is your past, Luhan. Sehun and Daiyu and that baby of yours, that’s your future. If you want to keep the break clean, that you made well over three years ago, then throw the letter in the garbage.”

Luhan wondered if he could. He talked about wanting to do it, and imagined himself in the action, but when it came to his parents, he still felt so weak.

“I have these nightmares,” Luhan said to him. “That one day I’m going to go down to Daiyu’s school and the teacher will tell me that someone already came by and picked her up. And I’ll have lost my baby, Lay. The terror involved in that thought … the idea that my parents could just snatch Daiyu up because they know I’ll do what it takes to keep her from them, is enough to induce a panic attack.”

Lay eyed his stomach then and asked, “They don’t know you’re pregnant again, do they?”

Luhan shook his head.

“Then they certainly don’t know it’s a boy.”

Luhan said, “I know what you’re thinking. I’ve had the thought. My parents are under the impression that Daiyu is my only child, and their only grandchild. If they knew this baby existed, and that he’s a boy, they might turn their gaze onto him.”

So then the nightmares of Daiyu being missing from her nursery school simply transformed into nightmares of a baby being stolen from a bassinet.

Lay reached across the table to take Luhan’s hand in his own. He said, “It’s okay to be scared of people who hurt you terribly—who damaged you. It’s not wrong to consider them, their means, and their abilities, as something worthy of fear. But if you live in ignorance and something happens, that’s your fault, and no one else’s.”

Luhan took a deep breath. “You’re saying open the letter.”

Kindly, Lay squeezed his hand. “I’m saying, do whatever you need to in order to protect your family. But yes, I think you should open it, and tell Sehun, and together the both of you can figure the best way to handle the situation.”

Sehun. Luhan really didn’t want to risk rocking the boat there. After all, he and Sehun had just been through several days of unnecessary drama caused by a lack of communication. So keeping the letter from Sehun felt like a bad idea. But just as bad seemed heaping more stress on him.

“Sehun isn’t as breakable as you think he is,” Lay said, as if he could read Luhan’s mind. “And he’s also the fiercest man I know, when it comes to protecting his family. Give him a chance to do so?”

The door to the café jingled, and in came Wei.

“I guess I have to,” Luhan said, releasing his grip on Lay’s hand. “And of course you’re right. I never thought Sehun was breakable. I just worry. I always worry.”

Laughing a little, Lay pointed out, “That’s one thing you and Sehun greatly have in common.”

“Ah,” Wei remarked, sliding into the chair next to Luhan, “the language of my people. Korean is very nice, I must admit, but it’s nice to hear natural Chinese speakers.”

Luhan teased, “I’m surprised you can even understand us anymore. You’ve been living in other countries for so long you Chinese is atrocious.”

Wei gasped a hand to his chest dramatically. “That is so rude and completely unfounded for you to say.”

“But he’s not wrong,” Lay laughed. “Your pronunciation is highly in question.”

Before Wei could sputter any kind of real response, Luhan patted his shoulder and said, “Come on, we should be getting home. I’m sure Baekhyun’s going crazy after having two toddler girls in his care for so long. This wasn’t even his day, either, so now I owe him.”

Lay insisted, “I’ve heard personally for him how much he loves tea time. Don’t let him tell you otherwise.”

Luhan let Wei heave him up to his feet, and then he said, “I really missed you, Lay. I know we’re not in the same place in our lives anymore, and that’s okay. But I really, really missed you.” Six or so months between visits was starting to feel like too much now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lay offered. “Be safe getting home.”

Wei promised over Luhan’s shoulder, “I’m am amazing driver, actually. He’s safe with me.”

“The crash wasn’t my fault,” Luhan reminded as they made their way out onto the street and towards Sehun’s car. Sehun was at home, and had been for nearly the whole day, working with Chanyeol in his study to get their presentation ready for their trip to Hong Kong. Luhan had dropped Youri off at Baekhyun’s, and then gone out all day with his friends to give Sehun the space he needed to work.

But now it was time to go home. Mostly because he knew it would only be so long before Sehun’s work stopped distracting him and he started worrying about Luhan being out. And also because Luhan knew Lay was right. He’d probably know the right thing before he’d already asked. He and Sehun needed to open the letter. They needed to know what they were dealing with, and if necessary, work out a plan of action.

By the time Luhan, Wei and Youri got home, roughly forty-five minutes later, Chanyeol was already gone, and Sehun was on the phone to someone who sounded suspiciously like his mother, as he paced in the kitchen.

“Uncle Wei?” Youri asked, tilting her head way back and tugging on his arm. “Will you come play transformer unicorn dinosaurs with me?”

Luhan barked out a laughed. “What?”

Wei practically tossed Youri up into the air, to which she adored and Luhan’s stomach did not. Then he said to Luhan, “Transformer unicorn dinosaurs. Don’t you know? Han. Come on now.”

Luhan waved them off, just happy for the privacy.

When Sehun saw Luhan, he waved him into the kitchen quickly, ending the conversation and saying, “You probably guessed, that was my mom. She wanted to know if she could come over this weekend and smother you to death with mint tea and ginger and all the things she’s been reading on the internet that are supposed to magically cure your morning sickness.”

“You told her we’ve got plans this weekend, right?” Luhan didn’t catch himself until the end, and then corrected with a wince, “Well, I’ve got plans this weekend, and you have to fly out of the country.”

Sehun looked sad as he said, “I think she’s still upset we didn’t tell her about your accident until today. She seems to think she needed to be there in the hospital to hold your hand while the doctor said that the baby looked perfectly fine.”

“Next week?” Luhan tried.

Sehun nodded. “That was my suggestion, too. She’s bringing a sister or two of mine to make up for it, but she agreed.”

Luhan found himself quickly swept up into Sehun’s arms, and the warmth that flooded his body was only compacted by the flush of a kiss pressed to his mouth.

“I missed you,” Sehun said, holding him close.

Luhan said with a smile, “I missed you, too.”

Curiously, Sehun asked, “I would have thought our daughter might have missed me, too, but she was only too happy to run off with a strange man.”

Luhan pointed out, “I think she predicted you probably weren’t going to play transformer unicorn dinosaurs with her.” Sehun made an exaggerated face. “I bet you’d rather not know.”

“You’re right,” Sehun agreed. “I’d rather just have you here, in my arms, for a couple moments of peace.”

Luhan did let them have that. For minutes of gentle touches and loving kisses, he said nothing. But eventually he sated, “I got a letter from my parents.” He went from there.

It was with shaking hands, after he’d gotten Sehun settled into the privacy of the home office, that he handed the card over to him.

“This is from them?” Sehun asked.

Luhan sat next to him on the sofa in the corner. “I’m worried it’s about Youri. I’m worried they want to see her. I thought … she’s our daughter. Ours. This is something we have to face together.”

Darkly, with a hint of real anger, Sehun vowed, “I will never let them near her. Not after what they did to you, and how meaningless she was to them before she was even born. I won’t let them near her no matter what you say. I swear it.”

“I won’t fight you on that,” Luhan promised. “I’m just as scared as you are that they might be taking an interest in her, and that’s before they even know she’s going to have a baby brother in a couple of months.”

Seething, Sehun said, “We won’t let them have at our family.”

“Open it,” Luhan said, tapping it.

“Okay.” Sehun slid his finger under the slight opening. “Ready.”

“We’ve got each other,” Luhan said with definitiveness. He kissed the corner of Sehun’s mouth for good measure. “Now open it so we can know what’s inside, and decide what to do next.”