The next day is to be her last in the hospital, and though she is glad to leave its antiseptic confines, she is nervous, too. She cannot leave Seoul, not when the baby is still so fragile, and yet she is desperate to leave the city and all of its bittersweet memories.

But she forces all thoughts of her discomfort out of her mind, instead calling Sungah regularly to check that the apartment is in good shape, and arranging for a car to pick her up (from a back entrance, naturally).

There is one last thing she must do, however, and that is introduce her best friend to her baby. It feels right, somehow, to show Narae the baby she carried - the baby they uprooted themselves for - and explain to her the confusing maelstrom of emotions he engenders in her.

Narae is eager to see him, when she visits the next morning, and Hyerin knows that this is - somehow - the right decision. They walk to the NICU, and Narae loops an arm through hers, keeping them together as they have been throughout all of this mess. When they reach the door, Hyerin is confident enough to ask for her baby straight away.

The quiet gets to Narae; that much is immediately obvious, and the tiny, sickly babies are enough to tug at anyone's heartstrings. But this - this is personal. Hyerin knows that Narae thinks of her tiny baby boy as her nephew - as family.

She wishes her own feelings towards him were so clear-cut.

He's in good form, this morning, however, as she scoops him up gently. Narae watches, eagle-eyed, and she knows she is curious.

"You do that very naturally," she comments, but doesn't push it, not when Hyerin shoots her a dark look from under her lashes.

He's awake, though his eyes are shut. The doctor has explained to her that it is difficult for him to keep them open for long periods of time, and so she doesn't worry, and instead, offers Narae one of his tiny hands. "Look," she demands, "aren't they perfect?" She holds him up for Narae to inspect.

Narae takes the little hand, and the baby makes a fluttering noise, before closing his little fingers around her thumb. She smiled as Narae coos delightedly. "He's so small," she says, "so cute." She sighs. "Oh, Rin, he's lovely."

She doesn't respond, a heavy, indescribable feeling in her gut. It is a mixture of guilt and pride; guilt that she is still so undecided as to what she will do with him, and pride in her little baby boy, steadfast in his desire to survive.

"I know," she says eventually, and though she does not put words to the feelings inside of her, she knows Narae understands a little of it. "He's mine, but not mine." She looks up at her best friend, the baby's starfish hands waving. "I...I don't know what to do," she admits, her eyes begging Narae to understand what she is too scared to say. "What should I do, Rae?"

Narae smiles sadly. She squeezes the baby's hand carefully. "Only you can decide that," she tells her gently, a little sheepish. "He's your baby. You have to do what feels right for you."

She nods, looking down at the baby, cradled snugly in her arms. Though, intellectually, she has known it for months, it seems to finally make some sort of sense.

"I'm your mother," she tells him, and he turns his head in the direction of her voice, "I guess this up to me."

***

Siwon visits soon after Narae disappears, promising to be back with clothes for her and her still unnamed baby. She shouldn't encourage her, she knows, not when everything is still up in the air about where the baby will actually be going - but it's not like he doesn't need clothes.

"Do you and Narae switch shifts?" She doesn't even greet her husband with a hello, and the guilty look on his face tells her she's right.

"We just want to see you," he says reproachfully, and she feels a little cruel for attacking him as soon as he steps through the door.

"Check up on me, you mean," she mutters, but the venom is half-hearted. She's grouchy and uncomfortable, and subsisting on very little sleep. Taking it out on Siwon isn't right, but it's one of the very few outlets she's got.

He shrugs, palms upraised in a gesture of what can you do. "We worry. It's not a crime."

She eyes him for  moment, but doesn't come back with another tired retort. She knows that it is sweet of them to actually care, and it is kinder still for Siwon to sit through her needling with only a modicum of irritation.

"Did you see the baby?" She asks, needing no real confirmation. She knows he did, and she can't really find it within herself to be angry at him for his unconditional love for her baby. He needs someone to care, especially when she is not up to the task herself.

It is a cosmic joke, really. The woman who is totally unprepared for motherhood is landed with the sickly, unwanted baby of her ex.

She berates herself for the description immediately. It's not his fault he's ill, or that she didn't want him. It's hers.

Simon smiles at her, not his megawatt model smile, but the smaller, amused smile he reserves for the moments when they are alone. "They say he's putting on weight, slowly but surely."

"He is only three days old," she reminds him gently, and internally, marvels at how in this short period of time, her life seems to have changed irrevocably.

Simon gives her a rather tired rendition of his heartbreaker grin, and something inside of her jumps in response to it. "It feels longer," he says, and it is then that she begins to take in the shadows under his eyes and the lengthening stubble.

Her fingers reach out to cup his cheek in her hand. "He's not going to disappear," she tells him, her heart clenching at the thought. "You can go home, you know."

"I don't want to go home without you," he says simply, so unflinchingly honest it hurts.

Something inside of her murmurs I don't want to either, but she stays silent.

***

There is no discussion about whether or not he's coming to see the baby with her. She just announces that she's going, and he rises with her. They stare at one another for a moment, and when it's clear he's not going to back down, she looks away.

"We can't keep going together," she mutters, "we're basically lying to everyone."

He gives her a vague smile. "Are we?" He says winsomely, and buzzes the door before she can reply. She glares at his back instead.

The baby is awake again, when they fight each other to be the first to get to his cot. As she greets him, he slowly opens his big, dark eyes and looks at her. When she gently lifts him out of the incubator, his tiny head held in one hand, he stares up at her, his little breathing tube taking up most of his face.

"Hi," she breathes, supporting his tiny behind with the other hand. Her heart thumps as she takes in how tiny he still is. He's too small to fit into clothes for newborns, so small he looks lost amongst all of the tubes keeping him going. "Aren't you tired, little one?"

He blinks in response, his eyes seeming to close of their own volition. A nurse comes over to them, smiling politely. "He had a little nap earlier, so don't worry too much." She nods in thanks for the information, but her gaze doesn't leave the baby's face, wishing he'd look at her again.

"Do you think he knows who we are?" Siwon asks curiously, standing behind her. She allows him to hold one of the baby's miniature hands in his.

She shrugs one shoulder, and looks over it to smirk at him. "I think he only recognises me because I smell like food."

Siwon's fingers tangle in her loose hair, brushed as neatly as she can get it in a hospital. "Well," he murmurs, "you do look edible, most of the time."

She snorts, tossing her head back. She can't help but flirt back. "Are you implying you want a taste, Mr Choi?"

He grins, and almost purrs his next sentence. "Not in front of the baby, darling."

When she shoots a glance at the nurses, she can see that they are watching, and her cheeks flush in embarrassment. She sighs, and as the baby squirms weakly in her arms, she bites her lip. "Do you want to hold him?" She offers, and is rewarded by the delighted surprise in his eyes.

He nods mutely, and an awkward tangle of limbs follows. The baby protests at the change of position with a series of small grumbles, his tiny legs flailing. Once he is held securely, his fragile head tucked into the crook of Siwon's arm, he stops, however, and lies back, the epitome of comfortable.

They smile at each other, and again, the small voice in the back of her mind cautions her against enjoying this too much. She bites her lip, and looks down. The nurse returns, asking if they need any help, and when they shake their heads, she grins. "He's very happy to have you both. Look," she nods at the baby lying in Siwon's arms, hands above his head, "that's a classic 'take me, take me' pose."

The baby slumbers on, and she wonders if it is true. Is he happy when they're around?

***

They stay with the baby for another hour, her cheeks flushing when she agrees to feed him again. She would say she's never felt more exposed, but as Siwon's seen everything already and she's had all of her dirty secrets laid out for the world to see, that's not really true.

He watches with fascination, though, as the baby hungrily takes his fill, and deliberately, she looks down at the baby, rather than his face. Confronting his feelings for her - and her child - is still uncomfortably real.

"He's hungry, huh?" He says, just to fill the awkward silence.

The baby shifts, turning his face closer to her , and she wraps her arms around him tightly. "Yeah," she mumbles, her cheeks hot. It feels strange, almost too intimate to have him here while she feeds her child.

It shouldn't. He's seen everything before, and it's natural. Women all over the world do this. Hell, it's what s are for.

And yet... It's too much, too family orientated, and as she struggles to come up with an excuse that makes this a little less emotionally dangerous, she knows she's skating far too close to the edge.

But she can't help herself.

***

After a routine visit from the doctor in the morning, she is formally discharged, and though she should be happy to leave, there is a heavy, leaden feeling in her chest. Narae comes, armed with clothes and dark shades to try and ward off recognition.

The day hits its first snag when she tries on the clothes Narae has brought, and realises that they are her normal size. As in, the size she was before the baby stretched out her body and left it...lumpy. She has to curl her fingers into her palms to keep herself from letting the self loathing take over.

"Narae," she calls, her voice shaking, "these clothes don't fit."

She dealt with her body changing when she was pregnant, if not with grace, then with a resigned sense of responsibility, but she never thought about what would happen after the baby was born.

Her stomach is forever marred by the large scar across her abdomen, supposedly on the bikini line. But the weight still remains, her stomach stretched out and covered in marks. Her s are heavy with milk, almost two sizes bigger than they were before she got pregnant, and her body - now it has sustained a baby - is no longer recognisable as hers.

Narae's voice sounds from outside the bathroom. "Rin, I'm sorry. I didn't think, I just grabbed..." She can hear the censure in her voice, the chastisement of herself for being so stupid.

"It's fine," she lies, "I'll make do."

She stares at the clothes, remnants of what feels like another life. As she squeezes into a dress that is meant to be loose, it almost feels like wearing a costume.

***

Her goodbye with the baby is strangely painful. He's fractious, stirring restlessly, as if he knows that they are parting and isn't happy about it.

She presses a kiss against his tiny forehead, inhaling his scent. Is it for the last time? In all honesty, she doesn't really know.

"Be good," she urges him, his little head warm in the palm of his hand. She takes him in, as if committing him to memory; the starfish hands, the fluffy strands of hair peeking out from underneath his little white cap. His shell-like eyelids, closed now, and his nose, hers in miniature.

"I'll be back," she promises, not sure whether it is a lie or not. Will she be back? The baby snuffles, as if unconvinced, and her heart twists inside of her chest. It's not fair. None of this fair. "Please," she whispers, as though the baby will understand, "don't make it so hard."

The baby is having none of it, and when she hands him over to the nurse, hands shaking, he roars as loudly as he can, tiny, underdeveloped lungs expanding with as much air as he can muster. "He can probably just feel your nerves," the nurse says reassuringly, "but don't worry. You can come see him all the time."

She nods, and smiles as if this is what she's definitely going to do, but the uneasy churning in her gut belies the truth.

***

Narae doesn't press her as they nervously scoot out towards the car, and she doesn't ask why Siwon isn't here. She assumes that they made an arrangement; Narae gets to be in charge of taking her home, and Siwon will appear later.

It would be funny, if she wasn't so preoccupied with the image of the baby crying for her.

The air is almost preternaturally tense, and she knows the both of them are worried that the press will have discovered which entrance she is making her way out of. The hospital were surprisingly understanding, when she explained her predicament; it makes her wonder how many of them know just who she is, and what, exactly they think of her.

"We'll be home soon," Narae's voice is soft, as if she is unwilling to disturb the silence.

She just nods in response. She's not sure if she considers it home anymore.

"And everyone's going to visit, as soon as you're settled in," Narae continues, and she nods again, a listless movement that is more to do with societal convention than actual interest in the conversation. "Heechul had to be, um, placated." There is a strange tone in Narae's voice as she says placated, but she is too distracted to notice. "He wanted to barrel in as soon as you were admitted to hospital, but I convinced him to wait."

She had wondered. "Right," she mumbles, clutching her bag to her chest. Where is that damned car?

"Are you alright?" Narae asks, just as the shuffling sound of eager footsteps sounds. When she whips her head around to the noise, she is greeted with the unpleasant sight of a young reporter, camera clasped in both hands.

"," she whispers, and she can hear Narae muttering something along the same lines.

There is a predatory gleam in the reporter's eyes as he stalks forward, enjoying the discomfort in their faces. "Are you going home, Miss Song?" He asks, all faux-politeness. "Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

"Yes I would," she snaps, in no mood for this game, and as the car pulls into the little inlet next to them, she moves towards it.

"What's wrong with your kid, Miss Song?" He presses forward anyway, seeming to enjoy the repressed fury in her eyes. "Why aren't you taking him home? Motherhood not your thing, huh?"

It cuts too close to home, and her shoulders hunch. Narae rests a hand on her arm. "Hyerin - "

She shakes her head, forcing a smile. No. She needs to learn to deal with these bottomfeeders on her own. "It's fine." She seems to be saying that a lot. "Go on. I'll be with you in a moment." She nudges her best friend towards the car, and turns towards the irritating man in front of her.

Narae lingers for a second, but when she makes a shooing motion with her hands, she walks to the car, shooting a disdainful look at the reporter.

As soon as she is out of earshot, the nasty little man carries on. "So it's not happy families, then?" He pretends surprise, his expression totally unconvincing. She forces a bored look on her face.

"Leave," she says simply, and the man just grins.

"I guess you don't need the kid anymore, now Choi's married you," he tries for conversational, but mostly, he just looks like a hound after a scent. "Was that the plan? Get some guy to knock you up, tell Choi it's his, and then marry into the Choi family fortune?"

Icy tendrils of fury begin to tingle inside of her, but she tamps it down. It will do no good to listen. It's best just to ignore people like this; attention gives them power. "I'm leaving," she informs him with all the dignity she can muster, and takes a step towards the car. It seems agonisingly far away.

"Are you going to palm your bastard off on Choi?" He smirks, lips greasy with some kind of lip balm. He smells overpoweringly of cheap cologne and old sweat. It is not pleasant. "Tell him the sick little is his and that the paternity test was wrong?" His voice grows louder as she ignores his taunts, the malice disproportionate to her so-called crime.

She walks away, anger simmering in her gut as they insult her baby, innocent of anything and who should be the last thing on their minds. She wants to drag this hideous little man by the lapels and shake him, to push his odious face into the wall and scream that her baby is not a bastard, that he deserves respect and that she will protect his right to a normal life with violence, if she has to.

But she doesn't, repeating the mantra over and over in her mind. Don't let it get to you.

"It probably would have been better if he'd died, right?" The reporter chortles, and the rage begins to bubble over, her shoulders tensing. "I mean, it's not like he was worth saving."

Her resolve snaps, and she whirls on the man, his back thudding into the brick wall as she shoves him against it, out of Narae's view. She can only pray her best friend hasn't heard anything. His eyes widen in surprise, and she knows that it was bravado, that he was trying to get a rise out of her.

It's too late. Her temper has broken, and she is tired of taking hits from hypocritical men who find her situation so funny. "My son is not a bastard," she hisses, her sharp fingernails digging into his shoulders. "And if you repeat any of that, or even come near my child, I will end you." The threat is low and little more than a whisper, but she means it.

By god, she means it.

He has the nerve to laugh, releasing a miasma of halitosis and fake strawberry scent her way. "Like you can do anything," he snorts. "Look, ," he holds his hands out in surrender, "you and the kid are front page news. It's not my fault."

She pulls back in disgust. It's lowlifes like this dickwad who have ruined her life for the past few months, s who refuse to stop subjecting her son to vitriol he's done nothing to deserve.

"Stay away from me," she growls, as she walks away, "Stay away from me and my son."

***

"Everything okay?" Narae asks, when she gets into the car, pulse thrumming into overdrive.

She nods, although it is a blatant lie. "Uh-huh."

Narae scrutinises her for a moment, before letting it go. "Okay."

She settles back against the buttery leather of the car seats, and tries not to let the furious tears get the better of her. Emotions she cannot put a name to see warring inside of her, and as she replays her words to the reporter, her heart sinks.

My son. She should have known, oh god, she should have realised where this was going -

Her baby. Oh god, he's her baby, she can't leave him. Her breathing is coming in short, quick pants, and her eyes are swimming with embarrassing tears.

"I can't do it," she reaches her hand out, and concerned, Narae grabs for it. Her chest hitches. "I can't leave him." She swipes at her eyes, angry at her inability to keep her emotions to herself. "He's my baby."

She can't leave him all alone.