He sure said that, he sure meant that. But I sure didn't believe it. At least I didn't want to believe. As I stumbled down the hospital corridors I grabbed the fabric of my hoodie. I tried, I really tried to breath but it was getting harder. 

My hands landed on my abdomen; my sight on the exit sign. I walked faster this time, almost running. Gasping and holding back my tears I got to the exit. A bus, a bus. I needed a bus. Or maybe a taxi. Did I bring enough money for a taxi? He sure let me some extra money for that. But did I grab it? I hate taking his money, so maybe I didn't. I miss working, but in my state it wasn't right. He didn't want me to. 

I crossed the street, walking to the bus stop. It took the bus ten minutes to arrive. It was packed. A seat. Can I have a seat? I got in to the bus, taking out my purse from my bag. Where? I told the bus driver the place I wanted to go. Where? He asked again. My voice too weak to be heard. A guy behind me spoke, he heard me and told the driver the place I needed to go. I struggled a little. I normally liked being on buses. I had the ability to ignore the people. But today I noticed them as much as they noticed me. A couple of old ladies shouted to the guy seating on the red seats. He quickly stood up and I sat on his place. I just bowed. Suddenly, I feel the heat. The same heat I felt every night since the fifth month of pregnancy. The bus was packed and I was empty. 

I got out of the bus on Gangnam, then stopped to take a taxi to the apartment I lived in. A couple more thousand wons and I'd be home. But a part of me didn't want to go. At the taxi I looked trough the window. If I walked I could think more about how I would break the news to him. But it was dangerous for a pregnant woman to walk that far. That didn't define me quite good, so I stopped the car. 

My feet hurt as I walked. My head was spinning. I felt like throwing up. I wanted to be held by his arms and listen to his voice as he promised me I would be safe with him. With him, I need to be with him. Him. Ilhoon. him. him for that stupid night. Last day of semester, we needed to go out. So we danced. And we walked. And we talked nonsense. And we cried. And we laughed. And then I cried again. And he held me. His arms made me warm. Warm inside. He was cold, but I was on fire. So I kissed him and he did it back. And lips on lips, hands on my body. My legs trembling as the pain banished in the fog that pleasure created to cover my reasoning. And I moaned, he just took it. He moaned and I cried, begged for him to keep going. And when he came, it all came to me. It came to me that I always said that was something I wasn't born for. It came to me that I always wanted to have on my most private thoughts. It came to me that I was free and it would stay that way for that precious moment. He was inside of me, eyes closed, his souls leaving his body and alcohol hitting him harder. I was around him, hugging him, enjoying him, eyes eating every inch of his gorgeous body.

I loved Jung Ilhoon since day one, even if he took his time until day 10282. It didn't matter because a month after I sat in front of him crying and he held me. And he was cold and I was on fire again. And as he was on top of me filling me, he whispered on my ear "aren't we annoying him or her?". 

 So I sat on a bench, on a park near to our place. My tears needed a scape, but I didn't want them to be out. Instead I caressed my bump with my hands. Lovely, little dude, boy2, babe, bae and many more names we called him. Ilhoon's mom a woman of nature never believed in doctors and echographies. As Ilhoon's lips kissed my inner thighs and I layed on his bed, his mom entered to offer us green tea. It's a boy. She said, firmly, before living. And he was. Jung Moon. We decided he was going to be as big as the moon. 

 One more time, I stopped, this time to drink some water from the bottle I kept on my bag. The liquid slipped through my mouth and I closed my eyes. I remembered our first sober kiss, a precious moment. I thought I loved him one more time that day. And he then said he felt the same. Love at first . Oh, him for being like this. So perfect. Even when we fought and his grip on my hands were too rough. Even when he got tired of working and studying. And even when he pinned me to the bed to calm me after a fight. Even when he got me there, unable to move, unable to scape his words on my ear. I sometimes think that this should have never ing happened, because you are not going to be the ing perfect mom and I am already hating that. But I wanted. And he also wanted to. His hands caressing my tummy each night told me so. 

Seeing the building I lived in made feel nauseous again. I hated that place. Those white walls and aesthetic decoration got me bored. I really didn't want to be there. For the first time I repulsed home. Just ten steps. I decided I would take. Just ten steps back. Just twenty. Just fifty. Just away, away from him. From his excited face after he cried all night because he hated himself for feeling tired of being the good father he wanted to be, as I told him I felt our son moving. I wanted to be away from his fingers tapping my tummy for our baby to wake up. And I need out of his every day desperate need to meet his son. I need out, I sure mean it. 

 Oh . How am I supposed to tell him this? This isn't easy. How Am I supposed to tell him this when I can't even say it aloud. Because I can't even believe it. I need to believe it. To stop thinking of the drawer we hadn't buy for our baby's clothes. I need to avoid imagining his first steps and the moment he would look at Ilhoon and call him dad. There is no baby. Was the first thought. How is that even real? Everyone can see my tummy. Is empty. No, no ing way. There is my baby. There is no baby. Stop that. It's false. There is no baby, you made it up. No, I didn't. I felt it. I felt it the next week as much as I felt my guts leaving my body each morning since then. I felt my baby. You felt what you wanted. I didn't want. So rejoice, because there is no baby. No. No. No, no, no. There is no way. 

My voice was leaving my mind, freeing a box full of thoughts louder and louder. No way I could be faking it. I am pregnant. You aren't. You were so stressed that you would be what you thought you were. I am having my baby. No there is no. Stop, please. Voice growing louder. Stop it. THERE IS NO ING WAY I AM NOT PREGNANT AND I JUST MADE IT UP. NO ING WAY. I AM NOT CRAZY. OH . ILHOON, STOP.