Today is not a good day, and it's barely 9:30 am. Kyungmi sighs, raking a hand through limp, unwashed hair, and – not for the first time – curses Thursdays. For some reason, they're always the worst day of the week – perhaps because it's the day before Friday, and the weekend is just beyond her reach. Or maybe it's because she's always infernally busy on Thursdays.

She shakes her head. No. This week, it's particularly bad because – well, because she and Joonmyun are in a fight. A fight about something she considers inconsequential and he thinks is worth more than her casual dismissal, but what would he know? The stupid bastard isn't even in the same country as her right now, wasting his holiday time when –

Deep breaths, she reminds herself. Don't let it get to you. You can hash out the argument when he's back tonight. She snorts. If he's back tonight. Knowing her luck, he's probably decided to stay another day – not that she cares. It's just, the bed gets cold without him in it, and –

Oh it. She misses him. Not that she's going to admit it, because it was his decision to take off for Korea – without her, because god knows his mother hates her with a passion and he can't deal with that – so see if she's going to make the first move. There's no point, not tonight, anyway. She promised she'd take the kids for Jongdae and Yixing – a shrewd move on her part as she'll have no time to think about Joonmyun and things relating to Joonmyun.

No, instead she'll be enacting damage control on three kids, while Yixing and Jongdae take off on a well-deserved date night. She can already hear her son's sardonic sigh at the idea of his fathers even needing time alone – 'Aren't they too old for that?' – and ersely, a flutter of anticipation starts up in her gut. She likes having the kids to herself, sometimes.

But first, she has to get through the day – and that means paperwork. Groaning, she pulls a mud-stained environmental report out of the ever-growing pile on her desk, and sets to work. She will get through today. She will.

***

By lunchtime, her day has already gotten steadily worse. Her stomach – which has been playing up ever since Joonmyun left to visit his parents, and even before then – just won't settle, she has a headache, and – to cap it all, she's just dropped a stack of forms on the floor. They'll take ages to sort back into any semblance of order, and she doesn't have time. Sam will be here any minute to hear about her findings.

So she simply collects them into an untidy pile and slams them onto her desk angrily, her little act of violence doing more harm than good, as the forms threaten to slide off her desk. "No!" She yelps, her voice sharp and irritated. She knows she's overreacting, but she can't be angry at the person she actually wants to be angry at, so she's going to take it out on inanimate objects. "You stupid bastards, don't you dare – stay," she hisses, shoving them back onto her desk with more force than is strictly necessary.

Someone clears their throat from open doorway. "Is this a bad time?" Sam calls, looking a little out of her depth. She tucks a lock of her short hair behind her ear, chewing her bottom lip nervously. "I can come back later, if you want."

Kyungmi sighs, more at herself than the woman in the door. Now look what she's doing – scaring her innocent colleagues with her irrational anger. ing Joonmyun. She shakes her head. "No, it's fine. Come in, come in." She moves away from the desk, watching the troublesome stack of papers from the corner of her eye while simultaneously wondering if her hair looks as greasy as it feels. She's going to blame that one on Joonmyun, too.

Sam steps into the room delicately, as if afraid she shouldn't be here. Kyungmi isn't particularly offended by it; Sam's like that with everyone. Always perpetually stressed. Kyungmi sometimes worries for her. "So," she starts, pushing that pesky lock of hair behind her ear again, "what can you tell me about this individual?" Sam's always careful to use gender-neutral pronouns and calls the previous owner of the skeleton currently lying on the table an individual, because you're supposed to. Kyungmi has no such compunctions. Half the time, she treats them as if they're still living, which doesn't half creep Yixing out.

She forces a smile, striding over to the furthest side of the table, where the skull rests. The skeleton – well, what little of it that remains – has been laid out in anatomical position, the ribs jostling for position with each other while a lone femur looks lost without its compatriots. It's not very complete, but then they never usually are.

"Well," she says, picking up the fragile skull, the delicate eye sockets staring out at nothing. "We've been quite lucky with this one." One hand rests under the loose teeth of the upper jaw – they have a frightening tendency to drop out when she's trying to explain things – the other cradling what would have been the back of the head. "We've got both the skull and the pelvis, so I can this poor sod with some degree of certainty."

Sam winces at her use of the term 'poor sod' to describe the skeleton, but nods for her to carry on. Kyungmi fights the urge to sigh once more. "The eye sockets are sharp, and" – she flips the skull upside down, pointing to the bony protuberance just underneath the ear canal – "the mastoid processes are tiny. Based just on that, I'd go with a very definite female. However," she flashes a tired smile, trying to look enthusiastic, "I had a look at the pelvis just to be sure."

Setting the skull back down on the table as gently as she can, she stumbles backwards when a sudden wave of nausea passes through her. Sam looks at her in concern; she waves it off with a hand. "I haven't eaten today," she mutters, trying to make light of it. "No time!"

The other woman purses her lips, unconvinced. "D'you want to sit down? Seriously, we can do this another time. It's just routine."

"I'm fine!" She isn't – she can feel her stomach twisting itself in two, and resignedly, she wonders if her period is coming a little earlier this month. That would be just her luck. "Hopefully, I'll get this done in five minutes and I can get something for lunch."

Her forced cheeriness seems to have the desired effect, as Sam nods slowly. She presses a hand against her stomach, willing it to behave because she's not backing out on babysitting tonight. The guys need a break, and she needs some time with the kids.

"You were saying?" Sam prompts, still looking a little suspicious.

"Yeah, right, um –" she hurriedly grabs the biggest chunk of the pelvis, steadying herself against the table. "Um," she shakes her head, trying to clear the lingering faintness away. "Basically, all the diagnostic features are very female." She lets her finger rest in the notch just underneath the big socket for the femur. "The sciatic notch is broad and shallow, and the ventral arc is very pronounced." The tip of her finger runs along the crest that outlines the pubic bones.

She swallows, her head swimming as she grasps for something else to say. She has the presence of mind to place the bone back down on the table, before her vision shimmers and turns black. Her body slumps to the floor, and if she was conscious, Sam's horrified gasp would amuse her.

***

She doesn't stay unconscious for long. A few minutes later, her eyes blink open and she finds herself on her back, staring up at two of her colleague's worried eyes. She sighs. “Did I just faint?” She asks sheepishly, feeling a little guilty for scaring Sam so badly.

“Yeah, you did.” Daniel nods solemnly, his short ponytail bobbing. She forces another smile.

“.” She probes at the back of her head, grimacing when she feels a large, throbbing bump. “How long was I out?”

“A few minutes,” Sam says, crouching next to her. Her fingers flutter over her wrist, looking for her pulse. Kyungmi has an urge to tell her not to bother, as she's clearly not dead, but she knows it's more for Sam's peace of mind than her own.

“Sorry, guys,” she gently shifts upwards, leaning against the wall for a moment. “Give me a minute, and I'll finish off my report, Sam.”

“Oh, no, no, no!” The other woman says hurriedly. “You're going home to have a nice rest, and then you're going to the doctors! I've never seen you faint before, and I'm not letting you get sick!”

Sam's such a sweet girl, Kyungmi thinks, but she does worry too much. “I'm fine,” she waves off the concern, bracing herself against the wall as she slowly stands up. Her head feels woozy, and her knees buckle as she tries her hardest to stay upright. “On second thoughts,” she wheezes, the acidic taste of vomit bubbling in , “maybe not.”

As she dashes for the toilet, she wishes Joonmyun was contactable and that she wasn't pissed off with him, because she could really do with some comforting right now.

***

Daniel and Sam send her home immediately after that, calling a taxi for her as people worriedly feel her forehead and mutter about the various viruses going around at the moment. She assures everyone that she's fine, that it's probably just some bug she caught from one of the kids' schools when she picked them up last time, and tamps down on the fear.

She's never been a hypochondriac, exactly, but she is a worrier, and she's never really fainted before. If she was an optimist – and unfortunately, she's not – she'd be thinking that these symptoms correlate with the early stages of pregnancy, but seeing as their last hurrah with IVF failed just a couple of months ago, she is very, very sure she isn't pregnant.

So what is wrong with her? She really wants Joonmyun at this moment, even though if he was here she'd push him away because she's so annoyed. He'd be calm about this, even though, underneath, he'd be just as worried. He'd run through her symptoms, point out all of the things it could be and then take her to the doctors while holding her hand.

She hates missing him.

Stupid bastard. Why did he have to book a trip Korea behind her back and go, even when she asked him not to and take her feelings about it into account? She knows he's allowed to have holidays by himself – that he should be allowed to go back to his home country and spend time with his family.

But did he have to leave like that? Sneak out in the middle of the night as she watched him go in her kimono and nightgown, arms folded? She knows that it would have been a waste of money for him to cancel the holiday, but she'd have at least liked a discussion about it.

If she's honest, what she really wanted was for him to comfort her about their horrific argument about the news she'd gotten last week.

Her absent father is dying, apparently – or at least very sick – and wants to speak to her. Joonmyun thinks she should see him.

She doesn't want to.

The man is not her father; he left when she was little more than a baby, and never bothered to get in contact again. She's fairly sure he has another family, another life; he replaced her without a thought for her or her mother's feelings, and went back to Korea with them. Good riddance, she'd thought at the time. At least she'd never accidentally bump into him.

She's lived her life without him, and she's sorry that he's dying – she wouldn't wish pain on anybody – but he really has nothing to do with her. He's just a genetic donor, nothing more than the man who broke her mother's heart. He knows nothing about her, has never met her husband or children, or even found out what she does for a living.

And now, as he lies on his deathbed, he thinks she'll come running to comfort him. Well – hard-hearted as it may be – she's not going. He had his chance, all those years ago when she was young and wondered if her father cared. Her mother would certainly never have stopped him visiting her, even if it would have hurt to see him.

Joonmyun thinks she's being cruel; that she's not considering that there may be other factors involved. He thinks she'll gain some form of closure from it. She'd laughed and said, “Joonmyun, I'm forty years old. I think the time for closure is long gone.”

The look he'd given her had said eons, but she'd looked away. This is her pain, her issue. She appreciates that he thinks it would help her, but she just isn't interested.

And she's pissed off at him for leaving her to deal with her feelings alone, while he goes home to be spoilt rotten by his family.

Useless piece of .

***

The journey home is tense, because the cab driver is chatty and she's not feeling up to it. Her robotic, monotone responses aren't particularly polite, and she feels a little guilty when he senses her mood and quietens.

She compensates by tipping him generously when he parks outside of her home, and as she rifles through her bag for her keys, her headache returns with a vengence. When she gets into the house, she dumps her bag on the sofa, almost sprinting to the kitchen for a glass of water and some paracetamol.

If the stomach pain gets any worse, she'll move onto co-codamol. She's used to extreme stomach cramps; she knows how to deal with them. But seeing as she has the rest of the day off (and probably tomorrow; Sam was insistent) she might as well veg out on the sofa with Netflix and a hot-water bottle until she has to pick the kids up.

She's not giving up on that. Yixing and Jongdae take care of three children even when they're sick; if she's ill and it's her turn to have Shang, she takes care of him too. It's probably just a bug, and she's not incapacitated.

At least, that's what she tells herself, stubbornly ignoring the worry in the back of her mind.

***

She picks Sunhwa up from her reception class first, bending down to let the little girl throw herself at her. With the five-year-old hitched on her hip, excitedly chattering about her day, she leisurely walks over to the junior school campus to wait for Jongseok.

Jongseok and Sunhwa's school is a large, interconnected primary school with separate campuses for the infant and junior schools. Five-year-old Sunhwa is in the infant school, eight-year-old Jongseok in the junior one.

He takes his time coming out, and as the teacher approaches her, she understands why. “Ms Morgan,” the teacher greets, as Jongseok slinks behind her, clearly put out that he's not going to avoid the talking-to. He looks very much like Jongdae when he's unhappy.

Kyungmi knows that most of the teachers are confused by the fact that the kids call her mummy when they don't live with her and are not actually her biological children, but she lets it wash over her. They also don't get why her surname is different, but then she was never going to take Joonmyun's name when they got married. Much as she loves him – and she does love him, even if she's irritated at him right now – she wanted to keep her identity. Her mother's surname is good enough for her.

“Hi,” she says, watching, amused, as Jongseok dances on the spot, looking deeply uncomfortable. “Is there a problem?” She hopes it doesn't take too long. She doesn't want to be late picking Shang up.

“Well,” the teacher takes a deep breath, her expression worn-out, “while Jongseok's, um, enthusiasm about the Vikings is wonderful to see,” she starts, having to begin with a positive. Kyungmi thinks it's school policy. “His behaviour in the playground is not acceptable.” Jongseok is tellingly silent. Hmm.

“Right...” Kyungmi says slowly, shifting Sunhwa higher on her hip. The little girl watches her brother carefully, chewing on her hair. “Um, what has he been doing, exactly?” Never a question any of them want an answer to.

“He stole a bowl from the classroom, hacked two holes on the side, and stuffed bananas in them,” Kyungmi has to press her lips down together to keep from laughing, and she can see the teacher's mouth twitch, too. “And then he chased a number of children around the playground, grabbed them and ordered them to be his slaves as he'd just 'captured' them, otherwise he'd throw them overboard.”

Jongseok speaks up. “I wasn't really going to throw them! It was just a game.” He stomps an angry foot, but keeps quiet, when Kyungmi flashes a warning look at him.

“I don't think Katy knew that, do you?” The teacher says smartly, her raised eyebrow showing that she knows exactly what happened.

Kyungmi – while horrified that Jongseok has caused so much trouble – is trying extremely hard not to dissolve into hysterical giggles. “Obviously, I'll let his fathers know,” they always looks so surprised when she says fathers, “and, uh, have a talk with him to decide on a suitable punishment. How much trouble is he in?”

“Well, while we admire his imagination,” the teacher chooses her words carefully, “we've had to take away his Golden Time privileges away for the next couple of weeks, and if there's any further behaviour we'll have to take more serious action,” she says delicately.

Jongseok looks as if he's about to protest, but another look from her silences him.

“Thank you,” Kyungmi tells her, relieved it's nothing more serious, “I really appreciate you telling me, and as I said, we'll discuss this at home.”

Best not to let either Yixing or Jongdae know yet, though. It'll spoil their night off.

Not that it's nothing they wouldn't expect from their second child.

***

“Jongseok, honestly,” she scolds as they get into the car. She buckles Sunhwa into her carseat, ignoring her protests about being a 'big girl' and not needing it. “How many times have I told you that the Vikings didn't actually have horns on their helmets?”

It's best to get to the important details first.

“I forgot,” he says grumpily.

“And how could you do that to your classmates? I thought Katy was your friend!” She finishes securing Sunhwa, and fixes the eight-year-old with a look. “You know what you did was wrong, Jongseok. You're very lucky the teachers didn't punish you further.”

Jongseok splutters indignantly for a second, but comes up with no excuses. He knows he shouldn't have done it, and that's the problem. He can't escape it. “I was just trying to have fun,” he says in a meek little voice. “Mr Hall told us all about how the Vikings stole monks and stuff and then showed us the Horrible Histories Viking song and I just wanted to play at being one of them.”

“Couldn't you have played a little less violently?” Kyungmi sighs. “And let your friends know it's game, maybe?”

Jongseok nods furiously. “I'm sorry! I won't do it again!”

Kyungmi resists the urge to snort. She's never heard such a bare-faced lie, and Jongseok is the prince of tall tales. “This isn't over,” she warns, before getting into the front seat so she can drive to Shang's secondary school. They're just in time. “When your daddies get home, I'm letting them know exactly what you did.”

Jongseok's head hangs low, but she doesn't miss the rebellious spark in his eye.

***

Picking up Shang passes without incident, unless you count the blush that crosses his surly face as she waves at him out of the window when she spots him with a group of his friends. She does. She doesn't like how he's embarrassed by her showing affection now.

After he finishes about how she has ruined his life forever by being an embarrassingly clingy mother, his first question is about what's for dinner. Nothing about how she is, of course, she thinks wryly, or how her day went.

“I don't know,” she says, turning to look at the other two in the back. They're suspiciously quiet. “Any requests?”

Immediately, they start clamouring with suggestions, all of them involving junk food. She rolls her eyes, but doesn't disagree. She's not feeling up to cooking, and it's not as if she's particularly good at it, either.

“Just this once, okay?” She tells them, painfully aware of the amount of times she's said that in the past.

It's never just this once.

***

The children placated with the promise of Chinese food – Chinese food Yixing would probably snort at – she drives over to Yixing and Jongdae's place. She'll stay here until they come back from whatever the hell they're doing (she doesn't want to know), get the kids into bed, and then slip back to hers when everything's sorted. Joonmyun will probably be home by then.

She scowls at the idea.

“Alright, little monsters,” she ushers them into the house, “homework first.” They groan, but make a show of attempting it, Shang sitting there with the computer on a maths website, trying to seem as if he's not actually texting. He's doing a terrible job of it.

As Sunhwa labours over her spellings, handwriting huge and scrawly, Jongseok takes out his science worksheet and immediately starts an argument with Shang about who needs the laptop more.

Satisfied they're at least pretending to work, she turns away to call the Chinese takeaway place, and, having placed her order, sits down to work alongside them.

The trouble doesn't start until their meal is delivered. She usually loves Chinese; despite the dubious authenticity, it tastes delicious, so when the smell hits her nose, she expects to feel hungry.

Instead, she's assaulted with a wave of nausea that becomes full-fledged sickness, and is forced to leave a bemused Shang to pay the poor delivery guy as she spews her guts out in the bathroom.

A knock sounds on the door a few minutes later. “Mum? Are you okay?” Shang's voice is quiet.

“I'll be there in a minute, baby,” she calls back, not wanting to worry him. “Tell your brother and sister you can start eating while I wash my hands, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, not sounding convinced. “See you downstairs.”

***

When she sidles downstairs a few minutes later, instead of the scene of utter chaos she expects to find, the children are calmly sat around the table with the food in the middle, Shang using his chopsticks to fork out the best portions for his baby sister. Jongseok, having already dived in, looks blissful, despite the large red stain spreading on the top of his worksheet.

But the smell – however much she loves it normally – is too much, and queasily, she sits next to Jongseok. Shang watches her carefully. “Wow there, baby,” she tells Jongseok, taking the chopsticks away from him so that she can pull his homework to safety. He looks at her, affronted. “Let's save your homework first, eh?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He looks down guiltily.

“Are you sure you're okay, mum?” Shang presses, as he passes the chopsticks to Sunhwa so she can start eating.

She forces a smile. “I'm fine, honey, don't worry. Just not feeling all that well.” That, at least, is the truth. “Let's just eat, okay?”

He gives her a long look, but lets it drop, because when she says something he tends to believe it – despite his anti-establishment ways – and she watches fondly as her babies dig into their food with all the grace of starving velocirapters.

She thinks that's it, until there's a knock on the door and she answers it to find a worried Jongdae and Yixing peering back at her.

“What on earth are you doing back so early?” She exclaims, pushing them out the door. “Go, go,” she waves her hands at them, “escape before the kids see you!”

“Shang texted us,” Jongdae says, looking concerned. Yixing wears a matching expression. “He said you were sick.”

“Why didn't you tell us?” Yixing chides, an unhappy look on his face. “We'd have found another babysitter. If you're throwing up, you need rest.”

She turns around to find the guilty party staring back at her. “I only texted them!” He holds his hands up. “I swear!”

“Hmm,” she narrows her eyes at him, but turns back to Yixing and Jongdae, now in the house proper. She sighs. “Look, as you can clearly see, I'm fine – ”

“You look pale,” Jongdae says, as if she hasn't said a word. “Go lie down. I'll drop you back once I've said hello to the kids.” Yixing nods in agreement.

“We can have date night another night,” he supplies.

“But – ” she protests, not happy about this. “I'm really fine,” she tries.

“Vomiting is not fine,” Jongdae cuts in, “and I would know from the amount of times we've picked up the kids for that exact reason.”

Sensing she's outvoted, she backs down – but not willingly. “Fine,” she mutters, “but I'm making it up soon, okay? I want my night with the kids, and you need to get out of the house, alone,” she stresses.

Yixing nods. “But only when you're not throwing up. You aside, I don't want a house of sick kids.” He shudders. “It's a nightmare.” Shaking his head, he goes to say hello to the kids. A trio of “bàba's!” rings out in varying tones of enthusiasm.

Jongdae, smiling faintly at their reaction, focuses on her. He raises an eyebrow. “So,” he says, folding his arms, “are you going to tell me what's been going on?”

***

She tells him everything as he drives her home, confessing her worries about this sudden sickness and grudgingly explaining the argument with Joonmyun. He stays silent, nodding along as she talks, and when she comes to the end, he sighs.

“Mimi, you should have told me all of this before,” he says, sounding sad as he clenches the steering wheel, not even pausing to swear at a particularly dangerous driver. “Look, I know Joonmyun's been a bit of an , but I don't think he honestly meant to upset you so much. And did he really just leave without saying goodbye?” He gives her a knowing look.

“Okay, so he did say goodbye, but it wasn't a proper one,” she huffs, turning away. Humour aside, she sobers as she considers everything that's happened today. “I just don't know what to do. I don't want to go visit my dad. Seriously, all he is to me is someone whose genes I happen to share.”

Jongdae nods. He understands. He's known her since they were eleven; her father has never been a part of her life. “Sure. I get that. And I don't think you're obligated to see him.” He taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “I mean, if he'd been more of a fixture in your life, I'd expect you to go, but he really...wasn't.”

“Exactly,” she says softly, “and I don't think Joonmyun gets that.”

Jongdae shrugs. “Familial duty's a bigger thing to him. He probably won't.”

She chuckles. “Shame he screwed that one over by marrying me,” she mutters, a little bitterly.

Jongdae glances at her from the corner of his eye. “Is that what this is really about? The fact that his parents don't really like you?”

“They hate me,” she corrects, and Jongdae makes a disgruntled noise, but doesn't disagree. “I'm a failure as a wife. I had another man's baby, but not his, and I'm not quiet and submissive and a perfect housewife.”

Jongdae attempts to cover up his snort at the idea of her being any kind of housewife with a cough. “I'm sure there's more to it than that,” he says uneasily, “and besides, Joonmyun doesn't believe any of that.”

There's a moment of silence between them, and Jongdae uses this to push his agenda forward. “And really, the big thing here is you fainting and being sick. You need to get checked out.” As they hover at a red light, he turns to look at her, expression deadly serious. “Promise me, Mimi. I want you to take care of yourself.”

A refusal is on the tip of her tongue, but when she looks at his eyes, she can't do it. He's only pressing because he loves her as a friend, and it would be wrong of her to throw that in his face. “Okay,” she sighs, “I will.”

***

When Joonmyun comes home, the house is quiet. He deposits his suitcase by the door, keys in the dish they keep in the hallway. Curiously, he pads through the downstairs rooms, searching for his wife.

Nothing.

He walks up the stairs, a little worried, but when he comes up to the bathroom, his fears are allayed. The door is shut tight, but a quick twist of the doorknob is enough to make it clear it's unlocked. That's not an invitation, Joonmyun knows – if Kyungmi wanted him to come in, she'd leave the door open and, well, it wouldn't be the first time they'd had in the bathroom. No, tonight she's telling him to stay away, and unsurprisingly, it hurts.

He missed her while he was away; he always does, if he's away for longer than a day. They didn't even communicate via text, because she's still pissed off with him and he's not entirely sure how to go about fixing things. Maybe he shouldn't have said those things and then just left, but hell – he's entitled to go see his family once in a while, especially as he settled down so far away from them.

But he knows she understands that, even if she doesn't particularly like it. What she resents is his implication that she's being a by not going to see her father, but he didn't mean it like that. He just knows that she's always wondered why he left her and her mother, and a part of him thinks she needs closure on it. Another part of him knows that the little girl that's still inside her just wishes daddy would care, however much she denies it.

It didn't come out like that, however. It never does. They get themselves into these silly little frenzies and then they're hurling the most hurtful words at each other because neither one wants to lose. It ends the same way it always does – with one of them backing away because they're smarting from a particularly painful comment, or they've realised it's gone too far. And then they'll give each other space to breathe before the apologies start.

Sometimes they just start screaming at each other again, but that just ends in angry and he knows neither one of them is averse to that.

So he's not exactly sure what his reception's going to be when he walks into that room, but as his fist curls around the doorknob once more, he knows he has to. He has to make amends somehow, and what better time to start when she's relaxed and less likely to push him away in the bathtub?

Besides, he needs to talk to her about the fainting. If Jongdae called him about it, then it's definitely serious, and he might not be a GP, but he's still a medical doctor – and fainting isn't normal. He can't remember her ever doing it before, and to be honest, he's a little worried about it.

***

Kyungmi's not usually one for a bath, but sometimes, it's just what she needs. Especially with the way her back's been aching lately, and just the general stress-induced sickness that's been lingering for a while. Since she's seen no sign of her period actually appearing, she's beginning to wonder if maybe she's got a cold coming on, which would would be just great.

Idly, she trails a hand in the hot, foamy water, grimacing at how bloated she looks and feels. And Joonmyun wondered why she didn't want to sleep with him when she feels so crap? Stupid man. Her eyes shut as she leans her head against the wall of the tub, sliding down further into the sweetly-scented water. One leg rests on the edge of the tub, the knee of the other poking out of the foam.

It's in this position that Joonmyun finds her, shutting the door as quietly as he can so as not to disturb her. He takes a moment to appreciate her, as he always does; it might be more than a decade since they met, but he's always struck by how attractive he finds her. It's never really dissipated, even as they've gotten older.

She cracks one eye open, sighing. "I shut the door for a reason, Joonmyun." No honey, or baby; he's definitely in trouble. "Leave me alone." The words aren't exactly welcoming, but there's a tired, resigned quality to them that tells him she's not going to fight if he stays.

"We haven't talked properly in about two weeks," he reminds her, "and I've just gotten back from my trip. As we're married, you'd think you'd want to see me."

Kyungmi reigns in yet another sigh. "Don't start with me, Joonmyun. I feel like ."

It's the perfect segue into the very thing he wants to talk about, and he doesn't let it go to waste, settling delicately on the side of the slippery bathtub, next to her leg. She stares at him expectantly. "Yes, I heard about that one," he says, a hand on her leg because he can never resist the chance to touch her.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly seeking an explanation. "About what?" She regards the hand on her leg with a faint kind of exasperation, but he makes no move to push it away.

"Jongdae called," he tells her, unimpressed by her dismissive tone of voice. "He wanted to know how you were feeling, you know, after you fainted and everything." He can't keep the hurt out of his voice this time, but he's not really trying. "I know you're angry with me, but I'd at least of thought that's the kind of thing you'd tell me. Didn't you think I'd care?"

She looks away, uncomfortable at both being called out and at being forced to think about her little slip-up. "I didn't think it was anything serious. I've been feeling sick and headachy for ages, and I hadn't eaten very much."

He splutters for a second, not sure how she can think it's not anything serious when she ended up banging her head off a table, but deciding to address one thing at a time. "Why hadn't you been eating?"

Kyungmi shrugs, rivulets of water trailing down her shoulder to her s. "I haven't had much of an appetite lately. Everything just makes me feel crap."

Joonmyun's head snaps up, and he looks at her intently because those symptoms are starting to sound overwhelmingly familiar. "Why haven't you gone to the doctor about it? Or had me look you over, at the very least?"

This time, he looks at her closely – there's a dirtier part of him that's revelling at the chance to do so – and as she rolls her eyes and says something about thinking it would all get better in a few days, his gaze travels over her partially submerged body. Her stomach – which has never been flat, not that he minds – seems a little more bloated than usual, though he could attribute that to her period, and her s seem...fuller.

He curses himself silently. How could he have not noticed? He's a ing doctor, for crying out loud. "Sweetheart, when was your last period?" His hand travels further up her leg, shaking slightly as he it absentmindedly.

She gives him an odd look. "I...don't know." She thinks for a moment, casting back to the last time she experienced the horror that is her uterus self-destructing. "A couple of months back? You know I miss them sometimes." Her dejected look breaks his heart, because he does know – knows how it's always raised their hopes and then dashed them cruelly.

But this time, he's pretty sure there's a very good chance that what he suspects is true might actually be happening. There's an excited tremor in his voice as he leans closer to her. "Honey, I think you should do a pregnancy test."

He hovers over her for a second, barely able to hold back the smile spreading across his face, but she just snorts. "What? No, Joonmyun, I told you – the IVF didn't work and I'm not going down that route again. It – no." He doesn't miss the emotion in her voice, or the way her arms wrap around her abdomen defensively.

"Darling," he tries placing a hand on her cheek, but she pushes it away, eyes flashing dangerously. "You know I wouldn't ask if I didn't think there was a good chance I'm right." He has his pride, after all.

Her jawline tenses as she swallows. "I think I'd know if I was pregnant, Joonmyun, seeing as we've been trying for so long." There are tears in her eyes, dampening her eyelashes, but she closes her eyes to get rid of them. "I think you're just seeing what you want to see." She turns her face from him, in no mood to play this game. "Can you just leave me alone, please?"

He wants to fight his corner – to show her why he thinks it's likely – but he knows he can't push her. It's better to let her calm down, come back later and plead his case when she's not emotionally compromised. "Fine," he says, pushing himself off of the side of the bathtub. The back of his jeans is now wet, but he doesn't really care. "But I think you should at least check it out. What's the harm in trying?"

The look that flashes across her face when he says that makes him regret his words instantly. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry –"

"Please just get out?" She sounds exhausted, too exhausted to deal with what he's trying to push, and he knows it's time to back down. "I need to be alone."

He nods, already feeling slightly guilty. "I love you." They haven't said it in a while, still smarting from their argument and the separation from one another.

She purses her lips, but not to say it back would be churlish when he knows she still does. "I love you too." She just wishes he wasn't so damn optimistic all the time, but then, that is part of his charm.

***

Later that night, in bed, he's still cursing himself for not seeing it before – especially when this his speciality, for god's sakes – but then, he supposes, they weren't really expecting it. They thought the IVF had failed, again.

When the pregnancy test came up negative, Kyungmi just flat out ignored everything after that. They'd been doing this for some sort of closure, but the hope they always tried to suppress had taken over and her heart had broken. Again. Why does it always feel like his fault?

"Please, will you just do it? For me?" He holds her as close as he can, hands ghosting over her stomach; she slaps them away. She knows what he's doing. "One test. One shot, and then I'm done. I'll never ask again and I'll even find a way to get more time off so we can go on that holiday like you wanted."

Kyungmi stiffens, because that's cheating, and he knows it is. "No you won't," she says disbelievingly, quickly calculating the amount of days he's had off so far. "They'll never let you take off again."

He casts about wildly for a good enough explanation to get her in the bathroom with that test. "I'll claim it's a family emergency or something."

The chuckle he gets in response is a little less hostile this time. "No, you won't. You can't lie for , Joonmyun."

This is – unfortunately – true, so he can't even dismiss it out of hand. "I'll find a way," he promises, voice taking on a wheedling tone she recognises all too well. "And if I'm such a bad liar, then I can't be lying about this, can I? His hand presses against her stomach once more, that one little action causing to close up. If it were true...

But it won't be. She's forty, nearly forty-one and whatever fertility she did have is long gone. It's just wishful thinking, and really, she should be mad at Joonmyun for thinking it could even be so.

She can't, though. Because that hope still lingers in her heart, and the mere suggestion that they might be getting what they want after so long is sending a tingling feeling through her spine.

"Fine," she groans, unable to believe she's actually given in so easily – but then, she has missed him. Maybe it's that. Or maybe it's because she's stupid enough to believe they actually have a chance, but the less said about that, the better.

She climbs out of his hold and out of the bed. "You owe me for this," she snarls, before she stalks off to the bathroom in a huff.

He just smiles. He's already thinking of ways to repay her, and as most of them involve this bed in some way or another, they both get what they want.

***

There's still a pregnancy test in the bathroom cabinet, because after the last failure she never bothered to throw the other one away. It takes longer than it should for her to muster up the courage to actually pee on the damn thing – why must it be such a disgusting ritual? – and by the time she's finished, the timer on her phone set to run in five minutes, she's shivering.

Why is he making her do this? She doesn't want to hope, doesn't want to think about the possibility that she might be pregnant. It's too much pain, too soon. Not after the last time.

And if – by some ridiculous miracle – she is pregnant, then that's a whole new set of worries. She'll be an older mother, which means their child would be at risk of a whole host of problems, and it's not exactly like she's been taking care of herself. What about all the alcohol she had at Christmas? It's not like she's been abstaining, or taking prenatal vitamins.

But if she was...no. She shakes her head firmly, and tries to focus on the belief that it will be negative, so then it won't hurt as much.

When the timer dings, she sighs, and she can hear Joonmyun shifting impatiently outside. He doesn't like the fact she kicked him out of the bathroom, but it's hardly like she was going to be nice about it.

Here goes nothing, she thinks glumly, hands shaking as she picks up the stupid little test. She turns it over, and there it is, the sign that –

Positive.

Oh, .

Here is the Horrible Histories song Jongseok was referring to. It is amazing. Please listen. Also, it is two in the morning and I just spent ages finishing this and editing it (sorta). I have work tomorrow. This is not good.