Heechul watches, arms folded, as Siwon changes the baby into a tiny little star-patterned onesie. The fact that Siwon is besotted with this little boy is obvious even to the casual observer, and to someone like Heechul – his best friend – it is is unmistakeable.

“You love him, don't you?” He asks quietly.

Siwon's shoulders stiffen as he gently lifts the baby into his arms. He holds him against his chest defensively, as if Heechul will take him away from him. “Is that a problem?” He says guardedly.

Heechul shakes his head sadly. “Of course not,” he says gently, unable even to be angry when it is obvious that all Siwon wants is to take care of this little boy. “It's just...”

“Just what?” Siwon sounds angry, but Heechul knows it is more fear than anything else.

“You're setting yourself up to get hurt, you and Hyerin,” he says helplessly, feeling guilty for saying it out loud. “I mean, if she gets him adopted, or even if she keeps him, he's not yours.”

He feels horrible for saying it, but he feels like he has to – that he has to try and pull Siwon away before it goes too far. He doesn't know what his sister wants; he isn't sure if she is going to keep the baby, or send him away, and the honest, heartbreaking truth is that Siwon has no right to this child at all, no matter how much he wants him.

“That doesn't matter!” Siwon says sharply, cursing softly when the volume of his voice jolts the baby from his dozy state. Even as he begins to cry, he is his back, crooning gently in his ear, and Heechul's heart gives an unexpected, painful thump.

“Oh, Siwon,” he says sadly, “I'm sorry.”

Siwon looks at him, dark eyes flashing over the top of the tiny form of the baby. “There's nothing to be sorry for,” he says evenly, and Heechul knows what he's really saying. I know what I'm doing, and I don't care.

“You do love her, right?” Heechul asks suddenly, needing some kind of confirmation this entire mess hasn't been for nothing. “It's not just a joke to you, right?”

His best friend's thick eyebrows draw into a frown. “That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard,” he says quietly. “Do you think I'd be here if I didn't love her?” He asks, voice breaking. “Do you think I'd do this to myself if I didn't – if I didn't – ” He swallows, looking down at the baby on his chest. “If I didn't love her? Both of them?” he finishes quietly.

“No,” Heechul admits. “But she's my sister. I have to make sure.” He doesn't say what they're both thinking. And I don't trust you not to it up.

***

Heechul leaves with promises of further visits, and demands for regular photos and updates. As they stand outside, in front of the car, her arms folded tightly against both the wind and the unhappy knowledge that she will not see her big brother for a while.

He pulls her into a tight hug, and she clings to him like a child, her face against his neck. He's not as tall as Siwon; when she hugs her brother, she is not dwarfed by his height like she was as a child.

“You're doing great,” he whispers fiercely, and she refuses to look him in the face because she cannot take the compliment with any sort of grace. She doesn't feel like she's doing great. She feels like she's barely treading water. “Remember, Rin, I'm only a phone call away.” There's a slight warning note in his voice, and she knows that he means he will be there if it all goes to pot.

She nods against his neck, and pulls away from him. “I know,” she tells him, “I know.”

Heechul turns to Siwon, and tugs him into a hug as well. He whispers something in his ear, something she can't – and doesn't really want to – hear. They are entitled to their secrets. But when he claps Siwon on the back, and says, “Take care of her for me,” to him, she bristles.

“I can take care of myself,” she says quietly, annoyed at the insinuation she can't, but they don't hear her.

She sighs.

***

When they return to the NICU, she knows immediately – with that strange sixth sense you get about the people you love – that something is wrong. The baby is quiet, not even snuffling, and he lies in his incubator without moving.

This in itself is not that unusual. He's so small, so fragile, that moving is still an effort for him, and he could just be tired, but she knows that's not it. His face is scrunched up, and she wants to hold him – to see what's wrong with him – but she's scared that might make it worse.

“Siwon,” she says nervously, “do you think he's okay?”

He bites his lip, and gently, reaches his hand into the incubator to the baby's tiny chest. His face falls. “Hyerin, he's not breathing,” he says urgently, whirling around to beckon a nurse, doctor, anyone. A loud beeping emits from the machinery that constantly surrounds her son, and she freezes.

Her son is not breathing. He is not breathing, and she cannot move, frozen in horror. The nurses – always on the alert for a crisis – converge on them immediately, ready to sort the mess out, and she is politely – but firmly – shoved aside.

Siwon holds her from behind, arms tight as she pulls forward. “Let me go!” She cries, her heart beating so fast it hurts. “I need to be with him – ”

“I know,” he says from behind her, voice laced with pain. “I know, sweetheart, but you need to let them care for him.”

It doesn't compute. How can this have happened? How can her son just degenerate so quickly? She slumps in Siwon's hold, and it feels like they are the only thing holding the other up. He clutches her hand, and she watches in blank fear as they palpate her baby's chest and snap quick orders at each other.

After what feels like an hour, but is probably no more than a minute, they begin to wheel the baby out of the room and they are shepherded into a waiting room. Siwon collapses into the nearest chair, his face ashen, but she cannot stay still, and he watches dazedly as she paces up and down the tiny room.

All she can see is her son's still little face, his unmoving body, and her heart beats its way into as she imagines losing him. She wasn't prepared for this – she wasn't prepared for him to suddenly drop and leave her.

And she wasn't expecting to feel like this over it.

Her heels clip the floor as she paces and paces, and she can tell the noise is driving Siwon crazy, but she can't stop. If she stops, she will imagine the worst, and she can't do that. If she concentrates on putting one foot forward, on the clack of the stiletto, then she can tune everything out and pretend that nothing is going on.

“Hyerin,” Siwon says eventually, and he doesn't sound enthused, “could you please stop wearing a hole in the floor?”

She stops in the middle of her route across the room, and stares at him, eyes wild. “Why?” She snaps. “I'm not hurting anybody.”

Siwon's eyes flash, and she knows that he does not enjoy the unnecessary aggression. “It's driving me mad,” he says evenly.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” she says sarcastically, and Siwon's hands clench on the armrests, “is my worrying annoying you? I guess I'll just stop and pretend like I don't care.” Primly, she sits on the seat opposite, arms crossed, and smiles blandly at him.

Her heart is thumping, and she knows she shouldn't be taking her terror out on him, but it's so much better than just being scared. “That's not what I said,” Siwon grits his teeth, “and you know it.”

She's about to retort something she probably shouldn't, when the door swings open, and a man in a white coat walks in. Immediately, they both shoot upwards and surround the doctor, who looks vaguely threatened by this behaviour. She can't find it within herself to care.

“How is he?” She demands, hope blossoming in her chest, “Is he okay?”

Their tiff forgotten, Siwon grabs a hold of her hand, and she squeezes it tightly. The doctor gives them a tired smile. “He's stable,” he promises, and the breath gusts out of her in a sigh of relief. “We've put him on a ventilator for now to help, and we'll probably keep him in it overnight.” She nods, not caring what he's in as long as it keeps him breathing. “As you know,” the doctor continues, “he can't breathe on his own, not yet, which is why he has the breathing tube, but what happened here is called apnea.”

Siwon prompts the doctor when he pauses for a breath. “What's that?”

“It's a breathing condition common among premature babies, where they might take a long breath, then a short one instead of breathing properly. Occasionally, they stop breathing for more than fifteen seconds, and that's when we step in.” The doctor smiles again, and Hyerin cautiously begins to relax. He doesn't seem worried, and she has become expert in reading the doctors' various facial expressions. She knows when they're trying to soften the blow.

This doctor isn't.

“Will it happen again?” Siwon's arm winds around her waist, and she leans into him, needing the comfort. He kisses the top of her head for a second, before returning his attention to the doctor, and she intertwines her fingers with his over her stomach.

The doctor spreads his arms. “It could,” he hedges, “but we're going to keep a closer eye on him, and you've seen all the sensors he's linked up to. We'll know if it happens again.” He shrugs. “But honestly, your son is doing well right now, especially for a premature baby. I know it's impossible to stop worrying, but for the moment, it's best to take it day by day. He's made it through his first week. That's an excellent sign.”

“Can we see him?” She presses, needing visual confirmation that he's made it.

The doctor considers. “For a few minutes, yes. But it's best to let him rest for a while.”

She nods impatiently, and when the doctor does not move, she raises an impatient eyebrow.

He gets the message.

***

She finds her baby lying spread-eagle in his incubator, his breathing tube freshly taped, and she looks at the sensors strapped to his chest with new gratitude, this time. His chest is rising up and down slowly, and she could fall to the ground and thank a god she doesn't believe in for this, but she doesn't. She kneels next to the incubator instead.

For a moment, she just watches him breathe, needing to store this image for later tonight, when she tortures herself with what she could have done to help. Then, slowly, she slides her hand through the circular hole in the side of the incubator and his miniature fingers. “You scared me there, little one,” she tells him softly, her eyes still fixed on the way his chest rises and falls, “You can't do that again, do you hear me? You just can't.”

She can hear her voice breaking, and then Siwon is helping her up and she buries her face in his chest. She can feel him trembling too, and she knows he's crying because she can feel his tears in her hair. They clutch one another for a moment, and then the baby makes a small, tremulous cry and they turn back to him in a flash.

“Attention-seeker,” Siwon says affectionately, and she chokes out a laugh because as if her child could be anything but.

“He knows we're soft touches,” she tells him, not bothering to look away from the baby. “You wait. Once he's better, he'll be using that to his advantage.”

Siwon snorts, the relief palpable. “I think he already is.”

She turns around to grin at him, and there is a warm, familiar twinkle in his eye. They hold one another's gaze for a moment. “Good,” she says decisively, “I want him to know that we care.”

He nods in agreement, but once she turns to look at the baby again, a shadow falls across his face.

***

The next morning, Narae tags along for the ride, muttering angrily about the fact that Jongdae has disappeared back the 'that boy's' home again. Hyerin honestly doesn't blame him. The atmosphere around her home is tense, and focused on a tiny baby stuck in hospital. There is not much for Jongdae to do.

“He's fine, Rae,” she says mildly, as she checks her bag for the new onesies that were delivered today. “Look at it this way. He can't get in any more trouble, and if he's having fun, then let him. It's nice to see him smile.”

Narae grumbles incoherently for a second, but can't really argue with this logic. “I suppose,” she agrees reluctantly, and Hyerin giggles at her sour expression. Her best friend studies her expression thoughtfully. “You know, you seem a lot happier,” she tells her.

Hyerin fusses with the strap of her bag, avoiding Narae's searching gaze. “Do I?”

“Yes,” Narae says, “you do.” She does not get to expostulate her reasons why, however, because Siwon is being frogmarched into the living room by Sungah, who does not look happy.

“You're going to be late!” The housekeeper informs them, flashing her watch at them as she almost pushes them out the door. “Go! And tell me how the baby is,” she adds, with a cheerful smile. Minki watches from underneath her coffee table mistrustfully, paws tucked under him. He is not fond of all this noise. He is even less fond of his human tossing and turning all night when he is trying to sleep at the end of the bed.

They stumble out into the light, and strap themselves into Siwon's car. “We're not being tailed, are we?” She asks quietly, because the day before last, a reporter followed them to the hospital, and she's not having them around when the baby needs to recuperate.

He shakes his head grimly. “No.” She can feel Narae's bright, avaricious gaze on them when his hand finds its familiar place on her thigh. She knows her best friend is storing all of this information away for later, when she interrogates her on the state of her relationship.

Truthfully, she has no idea what they are. They act like they're together, but Narae would argue they did they even before their shotgun wedding, and they still don't live in the same house. They're in a state of flux, and it feels like they will be until something happens.

Of course, she has no idea how soon something will happen.

***

There is the obligatory fussing over the baby and the greeting of the several nurses who have become familiar as family over the course of this week, and then they have a quick chat with the doctor, who basically reiterates what they were told yesterday.

But what she really cares about is that he opens his eyes when she leans over his cot, and looks at her in a way that makes her think he recognises her, and knows her for his mother. Narae watches her with that same, inquisitive look, and she knows that – once again – she is storing the information away. Like a squirrel, only more elegant, she thinks wryly.

When it comes to lunchtime, she is happy to skip it, but both Siwon and Narae insist that she eat something and Siwon marches her down to the canteen while Narae goes to collect takeout from one the restaurants they frequent, because after several days of hospital food, she is not eating any more.

She leaves Siwon to settle down in a hard, plastic chair while she collects tar-like coffee from the vending machine in the corner, and when she returns, they warm their fingers on the cheap cardboard cups in silence.

“So...” She starts, unable to sit quietly.

Siwon looks at her, expression unreadable, and leans forward, elbows on the table. “Hyerin...” He tries, raking a hand through his hair – which, she notices, is a mess and yet strangely y for it. “What do you want, Hyerin?” He asks, meaningfully, the words catching at the end because his voice is hoarse, and tired.

A leaden feeling settles in her gut. She sighs. “Siwon, look, I'm not sure yet – ”

Siwon looks disappointed. “Hyerin, you can't keep saying that.” His voice is gentle, but there's an edge to it that sets alarm bells ringing in her head. “The baby is here, I'm here. We're not going anywhere. You can just say you want either of us and we're yours,” he sighs, and gives her a piercing look, “but you won't, will you?” His fingers tighten.

The way he says it – like she is trying to hurt him, or cause trouble – gets her back up. She is so tired that life seems to be spinning past her without her control, her head is dizzy and she's so hormonal that most of the time, all she wants to do is cry. So no, she doesn't know what she wants, but she thinks that she is at least entitled to a little confusion.

“You don't understand!” She is aware how loud she's being, how the words are more of a shriek than anything else, but when he winces at the volume, all she wants to do is punch him. “You don't get it,” she says shrilly, “you don't understand at all.”

His mouth tightens, his eyes narrowing. “What don't I understand?”He asks, voice dangerously low. She knows she's insulted him – she even knows she's not really being fair – but she doesn't care right now, when everyone expects her to be contained when she just can't be, not now, not ever.

“You have no idea what this feels like,” she explodes. “I was supposed to have months – months! – to get ready for the idea of giving birth and organising everything, and I had that taken away. I had to have him cut out, because I failed him,” her voice devolves into a husky, throaty mumble, halfway to a whisper. “I didn't keep him safe, and I promised him – I promised him! – that I would.” Siwon reaches towards her, and she knows that he wants to touch her, to hold her, to stop her spilling out everything she hasn't been able to say, but she steps back. She needs to continue.

“I didn't expect to care about him like this,” she tells him angrily, folding her arms so that she can pinch her skin to keep the tears from falling. “I didn't even want to. I don't even really want to now. It would be so much easier to say I'm done with him, to hand him over, but I can't, and it's all my fault,” she whispers, the sound more of a moan than anything else. “I can't, because he's mine, and when he cries it's like a knife in my ing heart.” Somewhere in the back of her mind, she is aware of how melodramatic she's being, but it's what it feels like. When her son cries, it physically hurts. When she doesn't know how to help him, all she feels like doing is crying, but she can't, because he needs her and because it will make her seem pathetic if she does.

Siwon's mouth opens, and closes, but she sneers at him in response. “Don't even try to say anything,” she mutters resentfully. “I see you all, I see everyone judging when I'm not automatically the best mother ever. It's easy for you. You chose to give a damn, you're here because you want to be, and I'm – I'm just trying to keep going.”

“Hyerin...” Siwon starts, looking decidedly out of his comfort zone. She shakes her head.

“No.” She says, sounding less than calm. “No. Just – just listen. I don't know what to do. I don't know what I should do, or what I should want. I just...I just...”

“You just what?” Siwon asks, and although his voice is soft and not accusatory in the least, she still feels defensive.

“I just want someone to tell me that it's not happening, and that when I wake up tomorrow, it will all be a bad dream,” she whispers.

“Well, it won't,” Siwon says practically. When she looks up to glare at him witheringly, he shrugs. “Sweetheart, it's happened now. You've given birth. He's stuck in hospital for the next couple of months, and you're stuck with him.”

It's such a neat little analysis of her problem, that it only makes her angrier. “And that's not fair!” She shouts, hating herself for her childishness even as she says it.

Siwon's temper – already fraying at the edges – seems to break at this. “Well, life isn't fair!” He explodes back at her, throwing his hands out wildly. “You think he wanted any of this?” He points in the direction the NICU, where her son is resting quietly. “Do you think your baby wanted a mother who doesn't really want him? Do you think I like the fact that he's not even mine and I want him more than you do?”

It's like he's socked her in the mouth, and she can see he's realised that about five seconds too late, but she doesn't care. “ you,” she breathes, the words low and threatening. “ you.” She points one shaking finger back at him. “Don't try to tell me I don't care. Don't you dare.”

“Hyerin, I didn't – ” He tries weakly, although he knows he partially did.

She's so close to crying now that her vision is wavering, and he is simply a dark blur. “I hate you,” she says, even though she doesn't hate him, not at all, he's just the embodiment of everything she can't deal with right now and she's taking it out on him. “I hate that you want me to be your perfect princess of a wife, the perfect mother of your child. I hate that you just expect me to conform to that because that's what I'm meant to do.” She snorts derisively. “Well, here's a newsflash: I can't. I'm not a good enough woman, clearly.”

“Hyerin,” he says warningly, “you're going too far.”

Oh, she knows she is, but quite frankly, she's tired of being a good little girl, and it's time he admitted that she was never going to be one. “He's not yours,” she says spitefully, the relish at being able to hurt someone as much as she hurts right now bittersweet. “You only see him because I allow you to. He's mine.”

His eyes narrow, and when he speaks, the murmur almost seems too loud in the tense stillness between them. “Don't play this game. Don't be the just because you can.”

“But I am a .” She laughs, the rising hysteria uncontrollable. “I'm a stupid who got knocked up, and can't even decide what she wants to do with her baby. That's what they're saying. I'm a gold digger, I'm a , I'm using you, and I'm a crap mother.” Her fingers curl into her palms, the nails digging in because she won't cry, she won't. “So don't tell me not to be a , Siwon, because guess what? I am one.”

He just looks at her, his gaze a strange mixture of rage and pity. She turns away, unable to confront either one of those emotions. She is suddenly very, very tired. “Oh, go away, Siwon. I can't deal with you right now.”

“You never can,” he tells her, just as angry as she is. She does not react, her own anger merely trickling into a dull misery. “You want me to love you, but you can't actually deal with how I feel about you. You're too screwed up to make this relationship work, and you know what? One day you're going to come back to me, and I won't be here.”

And with those last, resentful words, he spins on his heel, and leaves. She doesn't watch him go.

***

When she storms back into the NICU for her baby, he rests one starfish hand on top of her , as if trying to cling to her, comfort her, and alone in the corner of the nursery, she cries, silently sobbing over her child. He cries with her, his thin, sharp wails only making her cry harder, and soon, a nurse is speedily dispatched to calm the both of them.

She takes the baby easily, cooing at him gently. “There, there, little man. There's no need to be so loud! Mummy's just not feeling her best.” She rocks him softly for a moment, before laying him back down in his incubator, and kneeling next to Hyerin. “Hey, now,” she says quietly, so that none of the other people around them can listen in. “What's wrong?”

“I did something bad,” she hiccups, her breath coming in short bursts because she's crying so hard she can't breath right.

“I'm sure that's not true,” the nurse says comfortingly, patting her gently. “Did you have an argument with someone?” She asks tactfully, despite the fact they probably heard them screaming at each other from the canteen all the way up here.

“Yes,” she says, her chest shuddering. She puts her hand through one of the holes in the incubator, holding her son's little hand for comfort. She doesn't dare look into the nurse's eyes.

“I see it happen every time,” the nurse says conspiratorially. “It's natural. It's a big shock, when your baby comes early, and you're so worried and scared that you take it out on each other. Once you both cool down it will be fine,” she tells her confidently.

But Hyerin shakes her head, her eyes still fixed on her baby, who – with great effort – opens his big, dark eyes. It feels like he is staring at her accusingly. “It won't.” She hiccups. “I'm not what he wants. I'm not good enough.”

The nurse sighs sadly. “Oh, honey, of course you are.” She wraps an arm around her, and cautiously, hesitantly, Hyerin lays her head on her shoulder. “Every mother feels like this, especially mothers in as difficult a situation as you are. Everyone wants to give up at some point.” She shakes her a little. “It's okay to feel like that. It really is.”

“But I'm not even sure if I can be his mother,” she whispers so quietly, it would be easy for the nurse to miss it.

The nurse chuckles wryly. “Honey, I think the fact that you're questioning it makes you a better mother than you think.”

***

Narae finds her in the NICU, the takeout left at the desk because you can't bring food into the ward. She senses that there is something wrong from barely one look at her best friend.

“What happened?” She asks immediately, and Hyerin flushes at being caught out.

“We had an argument,” she mumbles, looking down at the floor, “he went home.” She can see Narae formulating a tactful response in her head, and adds “I don't want to talk about it,” before she can say anything else.

Narae gives her a look. “Hyerin...”

She shakes her head violently. “I don't want to talk about it,” she repeats, her tone receding sharply when she realises how loud she's being.

Her best friend gives her another look, but stays silent. They stand in front of the incubator quietly for a moment, before she takes a deep breath, and with one last look at the baby to give her courage, she turns to Narae. “I think I've made a decision,” she announces softly, because Siwon's dramatic departure has forced her to realise she can't just let things stay up in the air as they have been. She has a baby, and he needs stability and proper care and attention. She can't just play around.

"I want to keep him," she admits, the relief of finally having said it almost physical. "I can't give him away now, I know I can't." She swallows reflexively, pushing the tears back down – seriously, she's had the baby, why does she still want to cry at every little thing? – and takes a deep breath. "But I don't even know how to take care of him!"

Narae rests a hand on her arm, but she doesn't notice, too absorbed in watching her baby. He's so tiny, she thinks, so tiny and perfect and all her own. She doesn't understand how she managed to create him; doesn't understand how all the months of stress and heartbreak resulted in something she can actually love. She didn't expect it – she didn't even want it – but now he's here, she finds herself falling prey to the genetic predisposition to fall in love with your baby. She's a total cliché, she thinks wryly.

“You can learn,” Narae says gently. “Do you think all mothers just know what to do as soon as they have their babies?” She shakes her head. “You'll learn on the job, like everyone else.” Hyerin snorts at the idea of her ever having a job (as if she could be that useful), and the baby looks up at her in confusion. She leans into the incubator, and – unable to resist – picks him up.

“Did I scare you, huh?” She asks him playfully, smiling at his bemused expression, “I'm sorry.” He yawns in response, a tiny motion she finds extremely precious, and closes his eyes, clearly deciding sleep is more important than his mother's idiosyncrasies.

Narae shakes her head, rolling her eyes in affectionate exasperation. “Hyerin, you dote on him. It's obvious.” She cups her nephew's delicate head carefully, the wispy hair. “If you really want to keep him – if that's really what you want,” she presses, because she knows this has to be what Hyerin wants. If she is pressured into this, then it is no good for either mother or son. “Then you can. I won't ever let you do it alone.”

A heavy silence settles between them, neither one mentioning the elephant in the room – Siwon. Narae doesn't push. She knows something happened – she knows they had an argument, because Hyerin told her that much – but she doesn't know what it was about. And she loves Hyerin enough not to brush her off, and tell her Siwon will be back, whatever.

Hyerin looks down at her son, at her best friend's hand on his head, and sighs. “I'm scared,” she admits, “but you knew that anyway.” She cuddles her son close, and Narae's hand drops down back into her lap. “I know I can't give him away.” She nods. “I know that much.”

Narae nudges her with one shoulder. “Whoever thought you'd be a mum first?” She teases, and Hyerin smiles absently, her attention on her son. “You know...” Narae says slowly, folding her arms. “If you're going to keep him, he really needs a name.”

Hyerin snorts. “He's needed a name for a while now.” She looks down at him. She's thought of hundreds of names, even – feeling inexplicably guilty the entire time – trolled through a baby name website. But nothing ever seems to fit, probably because she's never felt he was actually hers to keep.

“Jinhwan,” Narae offers. She grins, wolfishly baring her teeth. “I had a lovely lifeguard called that, once,” she says, expression drifting off into something Hyerin doesn't doubt is ual.

She gives her best friend a dry look. “You want me to name my son after one of your flings?” She asks, amused despite herself, “Really?” She shakes her head, looking down at the baby in her arms. “Your crazy auntie wants me to name you after her ex-boyfriend,” she informs him, lifting him up so that his tiny face is next to hers. He stares back, eyes unfocused, clearly not interested. She kisses the top of his head anyway.

Narae glows at the title of auntie. “Well,” she grins, “he wasn't exactly a boyfriend...” she sing-songs, still smirking, and Hyerin elbows her in the ribs, rolling her eyes. “But still,” she says hastily, “it's a nice name, right?”

Hyerin considers, looking down at her son. She bounces him gently, and he gurgles in response. “Are you a Jinhwan, huh?” She asks him, mentally groaning at how doting she sounds, “is that who you are?”

Possibly-Jinhwan sneezes in response.

“I suppose that answers that, then,” she laughs, and kisses him on the nose. “Jinhwan.” She tries the name out again, and finds herself liking it. “Song Jinhwan.”

Narae nods next to her. “See?” She says smugly. “It works!”

And as she holds him as her own for the very first time, she smiles. "Hi Jinhwan,” she rolls the name on her tongue, “I'm your mum," she tells him, his warm little body still in her arms. He gurgles, his eyes open and beautiful. Her smile widens. "And you're mine."