Marriage meant lots of intimate times together. Sehun harbored lots of hope and anticipation for his new life. So they tried again and again. A year passed then another. The doctor said Yanghwa’s fragile body was unable to carry. That was like a strike of lightning to their secure world.

The remaining questions were: Was it my fault? What did I do wrong? What are we not doing right?

Before marriage they made a list of names to be chosen for their son, their daughter. Two kids were in the plan. A son, a daughter would perfect it. If not, that would be fine too. As long as they were a happy, healthy family.

Family…

His pretty wife’s soul was crushed. To be a mother. To have the experience of bonding with the baby growing in her body. Then experience the excruciatingly heart binding moment when she could hold the fruit of their love in her arms. Something that only a mother could have… The dreams suddenly a cruel illusion she would never hold.

Sehun always remembered the fresh tears his pretty wife shed constantly. Of grief. Madness. Happiness.

He always ached because of her.

Skipping over the arguments, the short period of depression, Sehun remembered meeting for the first time the woman who was now pregnant with his and Yanghwa’s child.

A young woman with a growing belly. Shyly greeting, “Hello.”

◊◊◊◊◊

Choi Yanghwa. A beauty. That was her name. With wavy brown hair that streamed down her tiny shoulders like a waterfall elegantly cascading down the side of a mountain. Her skin pearly translucent. At her OB appointment Namjoo most remembered seeing the young woman shed tears when they saw the baby for the first time.

“Thank you. I can’t thank you so much,” the woman had cried at the end of the appointment. At that moment Namjoo hadn’t known what to expect. When she received news that the parents would like to meet her she felt nervous. Sometimes a surrogate didn’t meet the baby’s parents at all. She had no idea what kinds of relationships they created with each other.

Wasn’t it awkward to become friends knowing that a doctor had implanted an embryo created from their egg and into her body? Knowing that in terms, they were using her?

In her case, Sehun and Yanghwa were rather welcoming as if it didn’t matter at all that she was their living human incubator. They offered her a meal, which she accepted. What she felt was an act of unnecessary kindness. Personal matters were excluded from their time spent together. She didn’t talk much, so that was all she knew of them. That they were a young handsome couple unable to have their own children who shared a meal with her once.

Namjoo never saw them again after she handed their son to them and she walked away with $15,000. To her, it had been an empty experience. She just needed the money, so she had given up her body.

Now, she was looking at the fruit of her labor. Eyes shifting from Yanghwa’s husband to the little boy hopping excitedly from one foot to the other in front of her son. His silky black hair tumbling back and forth over his head as he moved. Namjoo recognized an adorable set of eyes glistening with joy. A pair of lips curling up to release laughter. What she imagined his mother would look like when she was happy.

All of a sudden, she remembered the cries of a newborn when she finally pushed him out. “It’s a boy,” the doctor declared. Throughout those nine months of carrying someone else’s child, Namjoo hadn’t thought about a thing. Nothing felt real to her. The experience still felt like it was just a dream.

So this…was him she realized. The little boy that came from her.

“Mommy,” Moowon tugged her hand. His concerned eyes met with hers bringing her back to the present.

“Right,” she blankly said. Namjoo suddenly didn’t know how to think, what to say. “Um,” she squeezed her eyes closed, “right.”

“Mommy?” Moowon called out again.

Namjoo’s eyes dropped to the little child with the round face again. The one she had given birth to for $15,000.

“Gunta, lets go,” a deep voice interrupted.

“Daddy! My flend!” The child called Gunta exclaimed happily as he allowed his father to lead him toward Mrs. Lee. Waving his small hand at his back he beckoned Moowon to follow.

“Good morning, you two,” Mrs. Lee warmly greeted when they neared.

“My flend!” Gunta exclaimed again and giggled adorably as if he had never felt such joy before.

Namjoo thinly smiled before Moowon said, “We make friend yesterday, mommy.”

“Good job,” she complimented. Kneeling down, she adjusted his rumpled shirt. “Have fun today. I’ll be back later.”

Moowon gave her a quick hug then dashed into the daycare with Gunta immediately following. His father nearly chased them in but paused. Awkward now, Namjoo tried not to be too obvious. Stealing a glance out of the corner of her eye. Also embarrassed because she could not bring to memory what his name was.

Uncomfortably smiling, Namjoo ended up nodding her head in greeting. Then quickly turning around rushed off to her car.

Three years wasn’t a long time. Namjoo wouldn’t doubt that he didn’t remember her. Maybe he had forgotten her name like she had his. But she remembered his wife’s name. His wife who had left the deeper impression between them. Because Namjoo remembered her crying. Her beautiful face contorting sorrowfully, gratefully and Namjoo had wondered why she was crying.

She and her husband were married. Even when she could not give birth he didn’t leave her. He devotedly stayed there right by her side. That made Namjoo jealous, too. For even when she gave birth to Moowon her lover chose to leave her.

Way back when in that empty time, abandoned and unable to provide for Moowon she got pregnant again even when her body was not yet healed from the previous pregnancy. All in hopes of giving her son a better life.

Was it ok for Moowon to meet their child like this?

◊◊◊◊◊

“He’s not answering?” Yurim asked.

Namjoo didn’t know whether to sigh or slam her phone down, but seeing how the latter would cost her money she sighed.

“The bastard,” her colleague, who sometimes helped babysit Moowon, hissed. Fair skin with a fresh bob cut, Yurim repeated, “I told you to go to court for this. He’s the father for god’s sakes!”

“It’s not like I’m not making enough,” Namjoo pointed out. As a sales accountant she made pretty decent money she felt. Plus, she had sparingly used the $15,000 from her surrogacy. She would still survive in the long run with good food thrown into the mix.

“Who cares, the owes you,” Yurim stated.

“I don’t know if is enough to describe him,” Namjoo muttered glancing out the wall-sized window. The view from the fourth floor of her workplace wasn’t spectacular, but it offered a magnificent view of the sky from where they sat in the lounge. Filled with glossy white round tables and a smoothie bar.

“But I feel bad for continuously lying to Moowon,” Namjoo admitted. “He asks for his dad all the time.”

“Go to court,” Yurim urged, “once he gets the notice it’ll scare the bejeesus out of his pants.”

“I’d love to see that.” Namjoo grinned at the thought of Han Daehwi freaking out over a piece of legal paper.

“I hope Moowon realizes what a great mom he has,” Yurim smiled. “He’ll look back when he’s older and see all you’ve done for him.”

But she could never be his father for him.

“The love a father gives his child, is it really different from a mother’s?” Namjoo wondered.

“You’ve tried, it should be enough.”

And she couldn’t help but think of Gunta who had both mother and father. The happy child who was as big as her Moowon, a year older.

She felt both sorry and jealous for her son.

◊◊◊◊◊

The kids were together when Namjoo came to pick up her son. For a moment she watched them play. Two children sitting at one table stacking blocks. Their facial features uniquely different. Moowon’s face significantly thinner, Gunta’s round with pudgy cheeks. She spotted Gunta glancing over at Moowon’s project and copied him by placing another block on his growing house dangerously threatening to topple over.

This feeling in her chest whirled into a fistful of uncertainty. Sure, Moowon had friends at the daycare, but no one followed him around like Gunta. It was too easy to see that the child was already attached. The flare in his eyes. The ever-growing smile on his face glad to have a friend. Namjoo didn’t know what to think of it.

Maybe it was weird because she had given birth to both child?

“Moowon,” Namjoo called out. “Lets go.”

Getting to his feet Moowon rushed over. Grabbing her hands, he asked, “Mommy, we wait?”

“Wait?” she repeated. “For what?”

“His daddy not here. We wait, please?” He rose up on tiptoes, gripped her hands harder, and begged with puppy eyes.

“His dad will be here soon. We can go first.” Namjoo tried.

“Mommy, pleeeaassseeee,” Moowon begged. “I don’t want him be lonely.”

Namjoo glanced over at the child pretending he wasn’t looking at them. A part of her gushed with guilt. The bigger part of her not sure how to talk to Gunta’s father. Knowing she had been a surrogate for them, how was she supposed to pose herself? She hadn’t exactly accepted their kindness back then. She couldn’t act like a friend now. They hadn’t stayed in touch the past 3 years. Yet it wasn’t like they didn’t know each other at all.

“Ok,” she gave in.

Letting go of her hand, Moowon returned to the table happily. The two boys shared a smile. Walking over to the small table, Namjoo sat down with her purse on her lap. She had bought a treat for Moowon but if she gave it to him Gunta would feel left out.

“What did you do today?” Namjoo wondered.

“Color!” Gunta shouted. He counted with his stubby fingers, “Rey, purple, ollange.”

“I like blue, mommy,” Moowon chirped.

Namjoo smiled at them and the hostess cake hidden in her purse. After a thought she said, “Do you want candy?”

“Yes!!” Her son shrieked while Gunta gasped and stood on his knees leaning across the table. Unable to believe he was going to eat something good.

“You two share, ok?” Namjoo said taking the cake out. Ripping open the plastic she broke the bar in half and handed one to each. “Eat slowly.” Though it didn’t seem like they heard her.

Gunta greedily stuffed the cake too big for him into his small oval mouth smearing the cream all over his face. His tiny fingers squeezing the cake so hard that the vanilla cream inside oozed out. Moowon was already destroying his cake, stuffing it more cautiously into his mouth but Namjoo’s eyes sat on little Gunta.

She didn’t know him. Had never seen him eat before. Become mad or sad. It was strangely fascinating. She had been so unsure at first. How to treat this child she had carried in her womb for another? After giving him away to his rightful parents, was it acceptable to approach him three years later? Just to know him?

Part of the cake started crumbling, dripping down into the crevices of his t-shirt. Instinctively, Namjoo pulled out some wet wipes and leaned over to begin wiping his face.

“Yum, yum, yum,” he uttered his tiny fingers. His big round eyes focused on the delicacy smeared over the tips of his fingers down to his palms. Moowon was also this small she thought but he was four-years-old. She experienced a short pang before suddenly glancing back to see Gunta’s father standing behind them, his tall figure resembling the Slender Man. Nervous, Namjoo lowered her form.

“Daddy! Look!” Gunta spread out his creamy fingers for his father to see as if showing off that he was the dirtier child, something to be proud of.

“Oh…” she breathed as if caught stealing red-handed. “I fed them some cake. I hope it’s ok.”

“No, it’s fine,” he said. His voice was softer than she’d expected. They glanced at each other awkwardly before she turned around to continue cleaning Gunta’s face.

“Your daddy’s here now,” Namjoo said then folded the dirty wet wipe. She thought Gunta was excited to leave since he scurried around the table and past her so fast. Instead she heard, “We go home with flend?”

Wheeling around she glanced at the boy then his father. Their eyes quickly met again. Another shot of awkwardness hit her. Switching attention to Moowon who had finished his cake by now, Namjoo rose to her feet.

“Lets go home, Moowon,” she called. Obediently leaving the table he walked up to her side.

“Did you say thank you?” Gunta’s father asked him.

Innocently peering at her, Gunta grinned, “Thank you.”

Grabbing Moowon’s sticky fingers, Namjoo smiled at the little boy. She could feel her heart swooning at his charm. “You can play with Moowon tomorrow, ok?”

“Ok,” Gunta answered. Namjoo almost gave him a pat on the head but stopped herself short. Giving his father a short nod of greeting she walked by hand in hand with Moowon.

◊◊◊◊◊

There was a child.

Moowon.

He looked about Gunta’s age. Were they the same age? How could she have two children of the same age at the same time? In the delivery room there had only been one child…

Gunta grabbed his hand pulling his attention. He grinned up at him.

“You suddenly want to hold my hand today?” Sehun asked. The smear of sweet cake was still noticeable on his round cheeks and even more relevant on his stubby hands. Sehun would have to give him a bath immediately when they got home.

“Yes!” he loudly proclaimed then laughed goofily.

“Is that your new friend? Do you like him that much?” Sehun asked as they headed outside.

“New flend!” Gunta repeated. “I like! I go his house?”

“No,” Sehun shook his head. Gunta frowned not understanding. “We’ll think about it next time.”

Grinning now, Gunta nodded not walking but hopping alongside him because Sehun’s answer literally meant yes in his world.

“You had fun today?” Sehun asked.

“Like daycare!” Gunta excitedly told. “I sleep here?”

“Oh no, not here,” Sehun shook his head at his silly son.

“Why?”

“Well, because it’s not our house.”

“Why?”

Baffled speechless, Sehun couldn’t help laughing. Sometimes it was a real wonder what went on inside Gunta’s head.

The drive home was peaceful and short. His hands were now sticky and creamy thanks to Gunta. Maybe they might just end up bathing together.

Stepping out of the elevator hand in hand he joined Gunta in singing his favorite nursery song, baby shark. The carefree smile dancing along his lips shortened when he recognized someone standing in front of their doorway. Her long ponytail created a graceful arc as she turned to wave at them.

“Hi, Gunta!” Jo Joomi greeted in her high-pitched voice she used around Gunta.

“Aunty Mi-Mi,” Gunta bounced up to her.

“Look what I got you!” She said revealing the bag she was carrying.

“For me?” Gunta innocently asked wide-eyed.

Sehun watched his son hug Joomi’s legs and decided not to tell her about Gunta’s creamy hands. First of all, he hadn’t invited her. Secondly, she hadn’t said she was coming. Last of all, she had been Yanghwa’s friend. She had no reason to stick around anymore, but she stuck like glue.

“You’re not going to say hi to me?” Joomi asked, her sharp lips curling into an attractive smile.

“It hasn’t been that long,” Sehun replied unlocking his door.

“It’s been a month,” Joomi stated.

“Has it?”

“You’re so prickly with me,” Joomi said following him inside. “I’m worried for you, so I check up on you.”

“Come, Gunta,” Sehun called not giving heed to her concern. “Put your toy away. Bath first.” Gunta glanced at him, obviously more interested in his new toy robot. “Toy away.” Sehun repeated more sternly then he glanced at Joomi, “He has enough toys.”

“A kid can never have enough,” Joomi said. “Right, Gunta?”

His son widely grinned at her before running toward him. “Bath!” he fervently exclaimed with arms wide open, a signal for Sehun to pick him up.

“We’ll be out in a few minutes,” Sehun said walking into the bathroom and closed the door leaving his uninvited guest alone.

Taking his sweet time, he soaped Gunta up and slowly scrubbed him down before rinsing him off. A few minutes was spent tickling and teasing Gunta. Listening to him shriek with laughter washed off the fatigue weighing Sehun down. When it felt like he’d left Joomi alone long enough, Sehun wrapped his son in a fluffy towel.

It was no surprise that Joomi had brewed a couple cups of tea and was rummaging through his fridge for something to cook. Saying nothing he walked into Gunta’s bedroom to get him dressed. When they returned a pan was sizzling on the stove.

“Tea?” Joomi asked wearing the one and only apron he had.

Withholding a sigh Sehun smiled at his son as he turned the television on and flipped to a children’s channel. Setting the remote control down Sehun touched Gunta’s head as he stepped into the kitchen.

Halting by the dining table he peered down at the cups of tea then to Yanghwa’s friend who failed at hiding her feelings for him. Her mask had always been such a thin veil that Sehun felt nothing but discomfort around her.

“My mom arranged a date for me,” Sehun told.