Heejin's wedding arrives in a flurry of preparations, over which she presides with as much calm energy as she can. She arrives a week before, and declines an invitation to the hen night - seeing as the last time she was anywhere near alcohol, she managed to sleep with Kyuhyun - only surfacing for dress fittings.

The rest of the time, she stays in her apartment to avoid the reporters, all frothing at the mouth to photograph her. Minki - once again forced on a long car journey, yowling all the way (the baby kicks in sync with him; she is fairly sure this is deliberate) - prowls around his former home, sniffing everything suspiciously.

She watches him, for want of anything better to do, and restrains the urge to text Siwon. He replied to her text with one sentence: It's beautiful.

She was too scared to text back, something she regrets now she is back in the same vicinity and will be forced into contact with him, sooner or later. She has no idea what she'll do; some small, romantic part of her wants to drift back into his arms, but the larger, more prosaic side counsels her against it.

It would be a terrible idea to give into her urge to take him back, especially with the baby's due date so near.

Not that it stops her imagining it, however.

***

The bride's dress is a work of art: Grecian in style, it floats over her figure, at once obscuring and exposing the sensual curves of her body. It is drawn tight under the bust by a golden band, and pinned at the shoulders with exquisite brooches. Siwon can admit that Heejin looks as beautiful as a goddess, but it is a strange, unearthly beauty. She is untouchable in her societal triumph; something to be admired, rather than loved.

And it doesn't stop his gaze lingering on Hyerin, who stands behind her step-sister with a small smile on her face. Only someone who knows her well - as he does - can see the strain in the set of her shoulders, the shadows in her eyes.

She is still utterly beautiful in his eyes, however.

Her dress is similar in style to Heejin's - Zhou Mi has clearly gone with a Greek theme; wryly, Siwon wonders if he tried to force the groom into a robe of his own, perhaps a chiton thrown over the top - but it is more modest in its cut. The thin silk is a dark, indigo blue, less diaphanous than Heejin's shimmering white. It clings to her figure, however, the hard curve of her belly jutting through the countless folds. It is a masterpiece in fabric manipulation, and he curses Zhou Mi for his skill.

It was probably a deliberate move on Zhou Mi's part, however; he does love to force people together.

As if drawn by the thought of his own name, Zhou Mi appears behind him. "She looks beautiful, doesn't she?" He whispers, the words tickling Siwon's ear.

"The bride?" Siwon asks, pretending indifference. Zhou Mi snorts, but doesn't disagree.

"Of course," he says instead, his long fingers reaching to tug his already perfect tie into position. "It is her wedding, after all." He smiles a small, amused smirk. "I'm sure you thought your wife looked even better at your wedding."

Siwon turns his head, eyes narrowing. "Stop stirring, Mi," he hisses, "I know what you're trying to do, and it isn't funny," he snaps savagely.

Zhou Mi holds his hands out in surrender. "I'm not trying to be funny," he murmurs, voice silky. "I'm merely pointing out that your desire to rip that dress off Hyerin - a dress that took me considerable time and effort, by the way - is written all over your face, and you might want to make it a little less obvious."

Siwon snorts a reluctant laugh. "Why should I?" He whispers back, uncaring of who might hear. "As you pointed out, she's my wife. Why shouldn't I feel like that?"

The other man leans back in his seat, grinning. At the head of the room, Heejin is repeating her vows, but Siwon isn't watching her, instead focusing on the way Hyerin is supporting her back with one hand, her bouquet of flowers held limply in the other hand. The pose makes her pregnancy a little more obvious, stomach pushed out in stark relief.

A sharp feeling twists in his chest, and he looks away.

Zhou Mi, irritatingly perceptive as ever, tuts. He can hear the silent words. You did push her away.

And as the registrar drones on about love, understanding, and loyalty, he holds his head in his hands.

***

After the ceremony - which she found truly moving, though that could have something to do with the cocktail of hormones she experiences on a daily basis - the guests are ushered to the reception. The room is breathtaking, but she barely notices any of it, only seeing one person: her brother.

“Heechul!” She calls, her voice so jubilant it doesn't really sound like hers. He turns around, gesticulating wildly as he tells some outrageous story to a group of drunk wedding guests. A smile spreads across his face, and he pulls away from his group without even saying goodbye, holding his arms open.

She throws herself into his arms without a second thought, reddening when her extra weight throws him off a little. “Look at you!” He grins, holding her at arms length so that he can look at her properly. “Trying to outdo Heejin, are you?”

It's a pretty compliment, but she waves it off. She knows she could never look at beautiful as her step-sister, and especially not right now. “I don't think so,” she smiles anyway, too happy to see her big brother to feel upset, “but thank you anyway.”

He clicks his tongue. “I mean it, Rinnie,” he shakes his head, “you look lovely.”

“You don't look too bad yourself,” she replies, “the army must be doing good things for you.”

Heechul snorts, amused. “It's keeping me in shape,” he allows, “and I certainly know a lot more about gun upkeep than I did before, but I can't say it's doing much for me.” His expression darkens, “I'd have liked to be able to punch Hyunjae's face in.” His lips tighten for a moment, but he shakes it off, and smiles at her again. “So how long have you got left?” He says, nodding towards her belly.

She repeats the timeline with as little emotion as possible. “About two months. Maybe a little less,” she shrugs, as if she's not as terrified by how quickly it's all come along.

His eyes widen in surprise. He looks down at her belly, and then back up at her face. “Really?” He asks, as if he can't believe it, “that's all?”

She nods, twisting the fabric of her dress between her fingers. “Yeah.”

***

The moment she has been both dreading and anticipating comes with no warning. Siwon steps forward, out of the shadows of a decorative pillar – driven not by good sense, but just some stupid, idiotic need to see her. He should stay away.

The baby kicks from somewhere underneath her ribs; it's a sharp, unavoidable movement, and she places her hand on her stomach. “What is it?” She says coldly, unwilling to show any weakness in front of her ex-best friend and estranged husband.

Siwon can't help but think she looks beautiful. “You look good,” he tells her, mouth refusing to work in the way he wants it to. In truth, he has no real reason to approach her, other than desperately wanting to see her after months of...nothing.

It’s excruciating – so ing painful – to see her visibly pregnant with another man’s child. That tiny, perfect glimpse of what could have been his makes his stomach turn, stabs the knife in just that little bit harder.

And because he can’t fault her in the moment when she needs to look beautiful – he tells her so. “You look amazing.” His voice is hoarse, tight – it sounds like he’s got a cold, but his throat is too blocked to swallow.

She nods stiffly. “Thank you.” It's nice someone thinks she doesn't look hideous, although she knows she looks terrible; even Zhou Mi's skill cannot disguise the bump entirely. She smooths the silky fabric under her fingers nervously, uncomfortable under Siwon's gaze. The baby is clearly in a mood; he hasn't stopped moving all day, and even now, she can feel him shifting. It's a weird sensation, but one she's strangely gotten used to – she's not sure how she produced such an active child.

“Is everything alright, you know,” he gestures to her obvious pregnancy, hidden under ingenious tailoring and swathes of expensive fabric – he honestly thought she'd be...bigger, “with the baby?” He doesn't know why he's asking; he just knows it's what you do in polite society, and although he now has no stake in this child's welfare whatsoever, he still can't help the concern.

Hyerin shrugs, having become accustomed to answering the question. It's like all anyone can see is the ing baby; she's disappeared behind some as-yet unborn child's presence. “Everything's fine.” He's a restless little bugger who never stops moving, and I'm so big now it's hard to stand up, but no, everything's great. She does not think it prudent to mention that she is visited by a midwife nearly everyday, and that she stopped eating because she couldn't deal with what was going on.

As it is, things are improving. The baby is a slightly better size, and - now she is actually attempting to eat substantial meals - ersely, her nausea is receding. The planes of her cheekbones are less sharp; her ribs less visible above her swollen belly. She's healthier - the baby is healthier. And that is all she really wants to focus on, right now.

"Here." She hesitates for only a moment, before grabbing his hand – only briefly reflecting on how warm it is – and reluctantly places it onto the bump. The baby kicks in response to the change in pressure, or maybe just her rapid heartbeat; she can't be sure.

His expression changes as soon as he feels the tiny movement – from confusion to awe all in one moment, and she's surprised by how that makes her feel. She's still not entirely okay with having people touch her there, but she's had to get used to it, what with the constant manhandling she has to endure from doctors, overly friendly old women and complete strangers alike.

Siwon's touch is different. It spreads warmth throughout her entire body, and as he presses firmly against her abdomen, her own hand atop his, she aches to tell him how much she wants him. How much she misses him.

But she stays silent on the matter. "It's a boy," she says softly, and as his wide eyes shift up from where they've been trained on her belly to meet hers, the world narrows to the both of them, and nothing else.

Her hand drops from his, and she looks away, throat tight. You could have had this, she wants to say. He could have been yours. But she doesn't, because it's too cruel and too painful to envision.

He'll be someone else's little boy, and quite frankly, she's made her peace with that. What she could have had with Siwon...well, that's another matter, something only her subconscious is willing to consider.

Siwon catches her hand before it drops back down by her side. He takes a gentle hold of it, and as something that isn't the baby flutters inside of her in response, she curses her traitorous body for reacting.

"I missed you," he murmurs, and the intimacy of their pose starts to dawn on her; they're halfway from being in one another's arms. His hand cradles the side of her face, close enough to kiss, and she has to fight the urge to cross those few inches.

She couldn't, anyway. The baby would get in the way, in both senses of the word.

"Don't," she says quietly, nodding towards a couple watching them curiously. Given their chequered past, it's not a good idea to be doing whatever this is in public. "People can see."

“Dance with me,” he says softly, “please.”

She stares up at him, thrown by the question. “What?”

“Please,” he repeats, his hand still on her face. She closes her eyes at the longing in his voice.

It's hopeless. She cannot resist the excuse to be close to him, and she knows that is why he has suggested it. "Okay," she says at last, "okay."

He draws her by the hand to the dancefloor, dotted with various couples, and they settle closer to the edge, where they can be alone. He rests a hand on her waist; she places hers on his shoulder, and they move slowly towards each other.

She has no idea what kind of song the band is playing, and she knows they are probably not moving to the right beat, but she doesn't care. What she cares about is the feeling of his hand in hers, the press of his body against hers, and the bittersweet knowledge that she is exactly where she wants to be, and it is still not enough.

Resting her hand on his chest, she leans up to whisper in his ear, "Come to my room tonight," and walks away before she does something stupid, like kiss him in front of everyone.

The baby turns inside of her, and she sighs. "Don't you start," she mutters towards him, aware that she must look like a madwoman, talking to herself, "this is all your fault."

He gives a defiant kick in response. She feels oddly proud of him.

***

Her plan to stay out of the limelight and eat cake with Narae is scuppered when the angry form of her ex-boyfriend storms over to their table. It is a shame; she'd been having quite a good time, up till now. Zhou Mi and Kyuhyun have been on sparkling form - though, of course, they've been avoiding all mention of that night - and Heechul has been regaling them with tales of life in the army. She has missed her big brother, and now Hyunjae is trying to ruin what little time she has with him.

She glares at him coldly. He doesn't seem to care, ignoring the furious expressions on her friends' faces. "Could I have a moment?" He grinds out.

She contemplates saying no, but she doubts it will get rid of him. Dropping her napkin in her empty plate, she rises carefully, mindful of her changed centre of gravity. It won't do to trip in front of him.

"Hyerin," Heechul puts a hand on her arm, eyes not leaving Hyunjae's face, "you don't have to go with him."

"He's right," Narae adds, posture tense. She looks as if she wants to rip Hyunjae's eyes out; Zhou Mi simply regards him as if he were a stubborn piece of dirt.

She shakes her head, though she is touched by their concern. Gently, she detaches Heechul's hand, squeezing it briefly. "I'll be fine, guys," she tells them, and - with no little trepidation - follows Hyunjae.

He doesn't mince words. As soon as they are out of sight, he grabs her by the arm and forces his face into her personal space. She pulls back in distaste. “How could you do this?” Hyunjae hisses, his fingers wrapped so tight around her wrist she can feel it cutting off her circulation. She sighs.

“Do what, Hyunjae?” She says tiredly, too exhausted for social niceties. The party is finally winding down, and having a whole other person weighting you down does not leave a lot of energy for socialising. Especially with the errant, disinterested father of said extra person.

“Be here!” He enunciates the word here a little too much, and she takes one solid step back, wary of spittle. “How dare you embarrass me like this, with your – your – ” He gestures to her swollen stomach, and – mostly just to piss him off – she cradles it serenely.

“I think you mean our baby,” she replies pleasantly, the familiar rage beginning to burn as she takes in his pathetic anger.

He glares at her, furious. “I have nothing to do with that child,” he spits, and she rolls her eyes.

“You were a part of his conception,” she tells him, enjoying the throbbing vein in his temple, “but why does it matter to you why I'm here? I was invited by the bride herself to be part of her bridal party. What are you?” She snorts. “Just another wedding guest.”

His grip on her arm becomes painful, and she wrenches her wrist out of his grasp. “Don't hurt me, Hyunjae,” she warns, her voice low and threatening. “Because if you do, I will you over.”

People are beginning to turn, and sensing a scene in the making, Hyunjae steps back, forcing a smile on his face. She can see the cogs in his brain whirring as he tries to come up with a retort that isn't a threat, and she's almost glad when Siwon appears, despite the fact she's desperately trying to avoid him - until tonight, at least.

“What's going on here?” He asks, standing between her and Hyunjae, his entire posture protective. It irritates her slightly; his need to play the alpha male around Hyunjae is ridiculous, when he would win any contest hands down. “Is everything okay?” He addresses this question to her alone, and she nods.

“Everything's okay,” she tells him, gaze boring into Hyunjae's furious eyes, “we were just having a little chat, weren't we, Hyunjae?”

He nods, although she can see how he resents her control of the situation. When Siwon offers her an arm, she takes it, stomach doing flip-flops that have nothing to do with the baby and everything to do with their previous conversation.

***

Siwon is a gentleman; he escorts her back, where Heejin waits worriedly, her and Heechul like twins in their shared concern. When she mouths go, knowing that he will only further ignite Heechul's anger, he kisses her hand and murmurs "Tonight," her ear. She watches him go, a tingling in the pit of her stomach.

Tonight.

When she reaches the table, alone, Heejin pounces immediately. "I can get Hyunjae kicked out," she says determinedly, Heechul nodding in agreement. She looks down at Hyerin's arm. "Oh my god!" She cries, snapping Hyerin out of her daze and forcing her to look at them.

"What?" She asks, confused.

"Your arm," Heejin says, turning it palm-up. "The bastard's only gone and given you a bruise!"

A cold, hard feeling settles in her gut, and she can feel her lips twisting into a bitter smile. Of course - of course he'd mark her, not thinking anything of it. She's only a woman, after all, a woman who's embarrassed him beyond belief.

Heechul sets his teeth. "I'm going to kill him," he says, deadly serious. It is only Kyuhyun's quick reflexes that keep him from charging off in Hyunjae's direction. "Let me go, Cho," he thunders, struggling in Kyuhyun's surprisingly strong hold, "do you want him just get away with it?!"

Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi share a look that is both calculating and - somehow - brusquely tender. "No, of course not," Kyuhyun says quietly, "but isn't it better to get revenge without him even knowing?"

"Exactly," Zhou Mi continues, almost purring. Hyerin and Heejin watch with interest. "If we bring him down together, it'll be much more satisfying."

Heechul begins to smile, straightening in Kyuhyun's hold. "Oh," he says, "oh, I like how you think, Seasoning. I do indeed."

Hyerin lets them plan, watching dispassionately. He deserves whatever's coming, she thinks, a sudden viciousness slashing through her.

***

Her barely formed plan to have Siwon visit her - to do what, she doesn't know; all she knows is that she needs to talk to him, away from the prying stares of everyone else - becomes difficult to enact when Narae flounces into her bedroom, muttering about her brother.

"I don't know why he came," she grumbles, "He didn't even come to the wedding!" Not that they don't understand, why, however; it's not easy facing the public who condemn you.

"Maybe he just wanted the company," she tries, eyeing the clock. She really, really hopes Siwon does not turn up while Narae is with her. She's due a bit of luck, for god's sakes.

Narae snorts. "Yeah, that's not the kind of company he's after," she growls. "He's not answering his bloody phone!"

Hyerin drags her gaze from the clock to regard her best friend with a mixture of exasperation and affection. "Narae," she says softly, trying not to laugh, "if your brother wants to slum it with some guy from a club, then that's his decision." She tosses her head, and forces down a snicker. "It's not as if you haven't done the same."

"But what if he's not being safe?" Narae wails, and it's too much: the giggle is involuntary.

"Oh, Rae," she says tenderly, pulling her friend into a hug. It's rather awkward, given the baby between them, but she tries. "You can't protect him from everything."

"I can try," she mutters mutionously. Hyerin snorts again.

"But he doesn't want you to," she points out fairly, "you've got to let him do what he wants."

Narae heaves a long-suffering sigh. "Yes, but what he wants to do gets him in trouble," she argues, but the fight has gone out of her. All she really needed was reassurance.

Hyerin thanks her (not-so) lucky stars.

***

He appears some time around midnight; she wonders if it was difficult to get from the party. She just used the pregnant-and-exhausted excuse. Works every time.

Sungah lets him in without a word, but very expressive eyebrows. She dismisses her quickly, refusing to respond to her curiosity, and he takes her hand when she offers it. She leads him to her bedroom silently, not wanting to alert Narae to the potentially extremely stupid thing she is doing.

But even as she tells herself it is a terrible idea, her pulse is jumping, and her hand in his is warm and secure, her fingers intertwined with his. She feels a little like a teenager with her very first boyfriend, taking him to her room for the first time; there is a similar feeling of this being it.

And when they get in the room, they react similarly to teenagers, because all of a sudden - he is reaching for her, and she is reaching back, and his mouth is against hers, insistent and gentle, all at once.

Oh, this, she thinks, this is it. This is what I've been missing, and here it is, again.

But it cannot last forever, and though she keeps him close, her hand on the back of his neck. She toys with the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck, and he watches her with that solemn look of his.

The dam breaks.

“Look,” she says, a desperate note in her voice, begging him to understand. “I don't want the whole picket fence, two kids and a dog thing. I just don't. And I know you do, and...” She trails off, too distracted by his eyes.

She's always loved them.

Even as she thinks it, she's reaching for him again, lips pressing against his hungrily. Her body – so ungainly now, heavy and uncomfortable – presses up against him as much as she can, and the knowledge that she can never have this again adds an unwanted pressure.

She pulls away, her breath uneven. Her cheeks are flushed; her lips swollen, and she can still taste him on her tongue. “I don't know what to say,” she says, half laughing, half crying. “I don't know how to do this.”

She looks down, a small, sad smile playing on her lips. "I love you." It's the first time she's ever truly voiced it in front of him, she realises. "But that doesn't magically fix everything, and it especially doesn't fix this," she says, pointing down to her stomach.

Siwon's hand sinks down to rest on it, gently. "I know." Reluctantly, he admits the truth in her words. "But if he's yours, he's mine." He smiles, a little wryly. "What's yours is mine, remember?"

She nods, the familiar words sending a wistful lurch through her. "But I don't really want a baby," she says, equally gently. She lets her hand rest atop his. "And if he's not yours...well, there's no point keeping him."

She forces herself to look him in the eye as she says it – and finally, she thinks – he gets it.

"So why did you marry me?" He asks, and his slow, steady gaze – with no trace of the judgement she feared – makes her want to cry.

"Because I wanted you, you idiot," she chokes, and she can see his eyes moistening too. "And you make me happy." Her voice breaks on the last word, before he pulls her into and embrace and holds her as closely as the baby will allow.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispers, kissing the top of her head repeatedly. "I'm so, so sorry."

She finds that - far from comforting her - the words set off an irrational anger in her. "You can be sorry," she snaps, "it's easy for you - it's easy to be a father!” The words burst out of her, and for a moment her own expression is so shocked, he realises she never knew how much this mattered to her. “It's easy to be a father, because all you have to do is let off a load into some unsuspecting woman and then pay enough money that it looks like you care, when in reality, you don't give a .” She's sneering, the crude words so unlike her, so unrefined that it feels like a physical blow to his stomach. “My baby won't have a father, and he certainly won't have a dad. There's only going to be me, and do you understand how much that terrifies me?”

All he can do is stare – stare at her trembling lips and heaving chest, and marvel at the fact that she won't cry in front of him.

“How am I supposed to love this child when no one's ever loved me?” The last words are defensive, like the arms crossed against her chest – and he knows it's meant for him, knows it's meant to wound like he wounded her by walking away.

“I love you.” It tastes sour in his mouth, as if he's lying. He's not. It's just that the words sound hollow when he says them like this, even as he lets his hands rest on her waist. She doesn't even struggle; she just gives him that even, icy look that she used to reserve for her mother and now uses on everyone.

Because she's battered and bruised, lonely and scared and she can't even trust herself anymore. Her hands rest against her body, tense and deceptively fragile. He pulls her closer, close enough that her stomach presses against his and he can feel the baby shift underneath her skin. “I love you,” he says, as if repeating it will make it clearer.

She just blinks in response, refusing to relax into his embrace.

His fingers the small of her back in tiny, concentric circles. He doesn't dare touch her stomach – he knows that the area is off-limits, shameful. It's also her protection, but to admit that would be tantamount to admitting she loves this baby, and she doesn't. “I always have, even if I didn't know I was in love with you,” – she snorts, but he ignores her – “Narae loves you like her own flesh and blood. And Jongdae does, Zhou Mi does, Heechul adores you – even...” His lips curl up into an approximation of a snarl, but he pushes past it. “Even Kyuhyun.”

But she's already shaking her head. “Zhou Mi hates me because I slept with Kyu, Kyu feels guilty, Jongdae likes me because I let him stay with me – “

He groans in frustration, the desire to kiss her senseless just so she'll stop downgrading herself mounting. “They love you. Because you're you, and the sooner you get that into your head – “

“Oh!” She gasps, her hand resting on the side of her belly. He looks at her curiously, having felt the kick himself.

“See, even he thinks you're talking a load of ,” he tells her, one hand sliding up to cup her face. It would be so easy to lean in – to kiss her again, as he's been desperate to do since he came in. But her face has slid into a granite-smooth, emotionless expression – as it does every time the baby is mentioned – and he can't.

Because she'd push him away, push his feelings away as she has been doing for so long – and they'd be right back to where they started.

“And the baby's going to love you, too,” he breathes, thumb sweeping across her cheekbone. She turns her face away, unable to look him in the eye, but it doesn't dissuade him. “Whatever you do, whoever you give him to, he'll love you.”

“I don't love my mother.” It's a bald, unconvincing statement, and he knows it. Because that's what terrifies her: the crux of the matter. She does love her mother, is so desperate for her mother to love her back that it has coalesced into a seething resentment she can't quite acknowledge.

She doesn't want to do that to her own child. She doesn't want to match her mother's disinterest; doesn't want to become the woman everyone loves to hate, a woman whose only aim in life is to claw her way to the top, whatever it takes. She used to want to be somebody, and now – she's lost that chance.

The only somebody she'll ever be able to be is mama, and she's ashamed to say it, but that feels like a pretty poor y prize.

“Doesn't matter.” He shrugs, the movement jostling her arms along with his. “You're not your mother. This kid isn't you. It's a whole new situation.”

She snorts, angry still. "That doesn't mean anything, and you know it."

He stiffens, and she knows his temper has broken. Somehow, it excites her. "What do you want from me, Hyerin?" He demands, pulling away from her. She stares at him, his eyes glittering, and knows that all she wants is him. "Why the hell am I here?"

They glare at each other fiercely, chests rising and falling with anger that is more desire than anything else. It happens without any conscious thought; one minute they are furious, and the next they are reaching for each other, her hands in his hair as he lifts her clumsily onto the table, reaching to undo her dress.

Her belly presses up against his body, but he doesn't seem to care, hands pushing up her dress and tugging down her stockings as they kiss so deeply there is no room for breathing. Her s ache, bound by their too-tight bra, and his touch seems as if it has a direct line to her groin; as he undoes his own trousers, she pulls him as tight against her as she can.

When he s inside of her, she sighs in relief.